Post by Warbuks on Nov 28, 2009 16:38:57 GMT -4
“Warbuks, that’s what they call me.”
[/b]I remember the days of standing on top of steel cages as the soles of my feet grabbed on to that metal for dear life. My body pleaded with me to stay put, my body yelled at me as it pried it’s finger nails into my body. It was like a sharp pain that dug into my organs as well as my skin. “stay put it said, stay put” I don’t know why I didn’t listen to my body, maybe it was the echo of the noise in the building. This noise seemed to get louder by the second as the sound waves started to feel like sledge hammers bashing against my ear drums. This noise yet wasn’t painful, but instead it was the noise of encouragement. The fans screamed my name, and just like it always happened I felt invincible.
“Warbuks, Warbuks, Warbuks. That’s who they wanted, and that’s who I was going to give them.”[/b]
I could feel my leg muscles contract and expand like elastic as I jumped off of the top of that cage. The wind of momentum blew against my body as I aimed for the target beneath me. In seconds time a collision occurred, and I rolled onto my back as my opponent laid lifeless. That’s when reality set back in.
“My name is Warren Bucannon.”[/b]
My mind was a mess as I tried to gather my thoughts. The best way I could describe it is if my body was split in two and not in a physical sense, but that of a spiritual nature. The man named Warbuks seemed to escape from my body right before impact and there he stood looking over the body of Warren Bucannon. The pain was real, and it was a side effect of the path I have chosen.
‘My name is Warbuks and this is my story.”
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“The Man”[/size]
“A lot of people often wonder why I wear a mask. A mask of a skeleton, people ask “why?” More often than none they think I’m trying to hide something. But the truth to this reality is maybe if you open your mind up you would truly understand that I’m trying to show you something.”
I never really found the mask; the mask is the one who found me. An old Halloween mask at a garage sale, and the night I brung it home was the night all the questions were answered.
“A sport where I was no more than a glorified crash test dummy, and finally I had a chance to make a statement. It would never be about the man behind the mask, instead it would be his actions, his actions even while face to face by the vision of death.”
Why I was so attached this mask was a different story, and the only explanation would be the dreams. An aftershock of thought when I laid eyes on the mask, and that dream ripped apart my soul and the only thing that made any sense at all in my life.
“The Skeleton”
The last thing I remember was me lying in my bed as my covers molested my body like a stripper trying to rob you of more money. My head began to feel heavy and my eyes glistened with the look of haziness. Slowly my mind began to drift, and then nothing but black. Not a single piece of light would shine through. It seemed as if the darkness lasted for hours, and for the first time in my life I could say I was honestly scared. If someone was to ask me what I was so afraid of my answer would be “nothing, absolutely nothing.” When the darkness finally cleared my eyes were met with bright colors primarily of the yellow and brown family. It was a stinging sensation as my eyes were in a squinting formation just trying to adapt, just trying to survive this new environment. I could feel my pores open with the realization of my senses going through hell as my body felt the impact of heat torching my body.
“What, where the fuck am i?”
Or so I said under my breath, acting like someone was actually going to give me a fucking answer. Slowly my eyes began to adjust as the sight of a dessert was where I stood. It was straight out of the movies with tumble weaves rolling on by and that annoying whistling sound in the air. It was a fucking John Wayne scenario, and if there was anything I hated more than country music it was old western flicks. There was no point to be optimistic, in the desert; I was out of my element I was in fucking hell. You know when you have that look on your face when you question god with the thought of “Are you serious, are you really fucking serious?” Well that’s exactly how I felt. No water, no food, not even anything to build a shelter with, I was going to die and wasn’t afraid to admit it.
“You got to be fucking kidding me.”
That’s when I felt a weird sensation coming from my body, almost like an upset stomach. As the seconds rolled by it began to get worse as I knew it was no upset stomach. The feeling now began to feel like something had my stomach in a headlock and it kept on torqing on the pressure. I soon dropped to a knee as it began to be too much for me to take. My organs all over were hurting, hurting as if something was stabbing them with a knife. It was a sharp feeling all over as I tried to stand as I wondered what the hell was happening to me. It felt like my insides were at war, and the pain was to much as I feel on to my back. The war had progressed from infantry to heavy artillery, and with each breath I took it began to hurt even more and more. I could help it as I let out a scream.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”
The scream must have been a battle cry as for that’s when the air strike came in and the bombs were dropped. There was a victor to this war and it definitely wasn’t me. A hand covered in blood ripped me open as it released itself from within me in a punching motion. Slowly another hand emerged as it began to crawl out. This was some serious shit, like I just had a baby that fucking hated my womb. I’m a fucking dude, and what the fuck was happening…
“What the hell.”
With a creator of a hole merging from my body I stared on ward to this mess of uncertainty. I had no clue what the hell was going on and did I really fucking want to? As this creature, this thing slowly began to stand the only thing I could make out of it was that it was a skeleton. “A fucking skeleton?” I questioned to myself, how the hell this could be.
“What are you, who are you?”
..:Skeleton:..
“I’m Patrick Swayze bitch!”
The skeleton looked down upon me with a chuckle as it slowly shook it’s head. The first thing that came to my mind besides dirty dancing was why the fuck am I not dead? I went to speak, but it was as if the words wouldn’t come out. I could feel the words surfing on my tongue like a wave but there was no sound, no sound at all. Finally with what energy I seemed to have in my reserve tanks I finally got a sentence out, or at least it was suppose to be a sentence.
“W w w ..wh…what?”
..:Skeleton:..
“I’m a fucking skeleton bitch! Got a fucking stuttering problem Bobby Boucher?”
“Bobby Boucher?”
..:Skeleton:..
“Ummmmmmm ….. Yaaa. The Water Boy, its only the most underrated movie ever. It’s a lot like the movie Radio Flyer except Elijah Wood and that annoying kid from Jurassic Park aren’t in it. Just thinking about that kid gives me the shivers, he’s so fucking annoying. They should have made that kid die, common I mean seriously, no one likes the kid, he’s an annoying fucking pansy.”
It must have felt like the skeleton went on for hours not making any sense at all. Half the time I didn’t even know what the hell it was talking about. My mind was empty and my thoughts made as much sense as his conversation. His voice ran through my head that felt like a cave as all it was an echoing motioning from wall to wall. I slowly turned my attention back over to the skeleton.
..:Skeleton:..
“and my prize horse Daisy on her death bed let out her last words… “heeeeeeeeeeeeeeee – haaaaaaaaaaa.” I then realized Daisy wasn’t a horse at all, all this time she was a donkey, I hate donkeys.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, you make no fucking sense.”
Slowly the skeleton creped down to my ear as he pushed his bristling bone against my skin.
..:Skeleton:..
“I’m a fucking skeleton, I’m not suppose to make sense out of this. This is your dream, and you’re the one not making any sense. So why don’t you do both of us a favor and find out what all of this fucking means!”
Slowly the skeleton rose as I stared into the two black holes placed below his forehead which would be the placement for eyes. He looked down at me as he lifted his leg slightly. In a quick devastating motion his heel came crashing into my forehead as I once again entered darkness.
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“Journals”
2 am.
November 27th, 2009.
“Dear myself, after weeks ago of finding the mask maybe I truly understand who I am. That someone is me, and maybe that’s the reason for all of this, the dream and the mask, maybe there is no answer. Maybe no answer is the best answer of all, and finding an answer only creates more questions. Maybe the question isn’t who I am, nor who the man behind the mask is. Maybe the best question is what will the skeleton do next, and maybe the question is better off not to be answered, but to be explored.”[/b]
My eyes turn on to the mask that lies in front of me. The white colored creature that lays before me, the creature the I hold with in my bodily chamber. The mask represents it all, for when I put it on Warren Bucannon is nowhere to be found, instead all you will find is Warbuks.
“Dear myself, today I killed a man. I didn’t kill this man physically, instead, I must have killed him around a dozen times inside my head. The man’s name is Vic Diaz and I have nothing against him. Unfortunately, I’m not too sure the skeleton will show him such mercy. Vic Diaz, for I apologize, because I’m going to fucking kill you.”
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