Shatter
Just a black screen, and a voice.
"Hello, my name is Robert
Edward James Lancaster II, Duke of
Wessex. And I am dead."
Fade in slowly to find a top down shot revealing a large,
enclosed circle of large, polished mirrors, with a single stool centred
within, which sits empty. A bright white light permeates the area.
"Welcome to my reality, and
welcome to you, Frederick Phoenix."
The top down shot begins to slowly spin and fall towards the ground, as
the echoing of footsteps commences.
"Welcome to a reality, where
you can dismiss any pretenses of
assuredness you may have about what you are about to face.
Pompous bastard, you, and the whole of OLW and the CAL..."
Fade to the ground, where the shot is on the bottom of one of the
mirrors. More footsteps are heard, which grow louder, and
resonate off the glass fortress. Two fine leather loafers appear
and stop in place.
"Truth be told however, even I
do not know what to expect...what I am
about to face. But I do know how
I am going to face
it."
Fade now to see the man take a seat on the stool, surrounded by
mirrors. He wears all black: black trousers, black leather belt,
black turtleneck, black Ray Bans. Only his silver Chain of
Nobility stands apart, shattering the unity of his appearance.
The shot begins to circle around him in a slow, steady pace.
"For the past few years, I have
been seeking answers to many perplexing
questions...of which I shall not give you the honour of
divulgence. You saw its culmination however in every drop of
Finnegan's blood, in every scream of pain that emanated from his
mouth. Did you see it Phoenix? Did you see the blood? Did you
hear it Phoenix? Did you hear the agony? The torment that is truth?"
He crosses one arm and places his other hand under his chin, pensively.
"What is your truth
Phoenix? Your name itself speaks volumes to
what you hold to be true, what you hold to be reality. The
phoenix is a myth. Nothing more. Yet it arose from the ashes
despite its destruction. It speaks to the resolute and dedicated
essence embodied in all of us, in all our souls."
The shot is a side, focused one, showing only his head.
"But what of one whose soul is
dead?"
"Simple."
The shot fades to his lips.
"Redefine the essence. Of
one's mind, one's body."
Now a shot of his entire body, looking directly at him on the stool.
"And that is exactly what I
have done...or shall do."
He uncrosses his arm and places his hands casually on his legs.
He smiles.
"Another chapter of history
awaits us, Phoenix. But know this,
and hear me. What you think awaits you, does not. What you
think you will face, you will not. What you think the outcome
will be, will not. Until then..."
He stands up and walks off the scene between a small gap between two of
the mirrors.
The shot fades to that of the start. A top down view of the circle of
mirrors, the engulfing light, the stool sitting now empty in the centre.
His voice is heard once more, echoing now with each syllable, each word.
"Reality ends here.
Reality begins here. I am Robert Edward
James Lancaster II, Duke of Wessex. And I am dead."
Upon the final note of sound from his mouth, each mirror shatters in a
violent burst. The noise is near defeaning. Shards of glass fly
uncontrollably around the enclosure and smash and convulse in horror,
upon liberation from their frames.
In an instant the chaos is brought to order. Destruction gives
way to silence.
Fade to black.
In an instant chaos can brought to order. Destruction can give
way to silence.
With Man, it is not so easy.
