1942 London
Maggie stepped out of the pub and walked down
the street. The night had a surreal feel to it and the sky was lit up
with search lights, much akin to a Hollywood premiere.
She turned up
the collar of her jacket and headed down Chambers towards the safe haven
of her home. Air raid sirens sang in the night like demonic beasts
calling out to the very gods that had banished them.
From the shadows
behind her two forms melted out and began following her. Maggie could
hear their footfalls echoing off the walk but she didn't pick up the
pace; she wanted them to feel a false security.
Poor bastards, she thought to herself. As her hand slipped a button open and she felt the cool hilt of her katana.
"Hello Maggie," a voice up ahead said as he stepped out of the shadows.
Maggie stopped and looked ahead. A feeling of uneasiness washed over her like a broken faucet.
"Didn't expect to see me anytime soon," the man said as it stepped closer.
"Hopefully tonight will be the last time," Maggie replied as her coat dropped to her feet.
20130811
In Dark Corners of Interrogation
INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT
MAX sits at the end of a table. From an ashtray a cigarette smolders. A video tape camera is focused on MAX. He is covered in splashes of red (blood). A DETECTIVE leans up against the wall by the rooms only door. CONTROL enters; he drops a manila folder on the table then looks at the DETECTIVE.
CONTROL:
Get us a coffee.
The DETECTIVE eyes MAX and then nods.
DETECTIVE:
Sure, Dan.
The DETECTIVE exits, closing the door behind him. CONTROL reaches over and shuts off the video tape.
MAX:
Dan. That your name?
CONTROL:
No, that's your name.
MAX:
(puzzled look)
What do you want?
CONTROL:
When are you going to end this charade? This multi-faceted facade you got going on? It will end when you acknowledge it.
MAX:
I don't know what you mean?
CONTROL leans across the table. He takes out two six-sided dice from his vest pocket and places them in front of MAX.
CONTROL:
You know damn well what is going on, and only you can fix that. Because right now you really are in some serious shit.
MAX:
(has a faraway look)
What do you mean by that?
CONTROL:
It's a game, Max. You're a character in a game!
MAX:
A what?
CONTROL:
I'm here to snap you out of it.
MAX hesitates, then...
MAX:
What do you mean?
CONTROL:
It means these two things control you destiny.
MAX:
Nothing controls my destiny. I am me.
CONTROL reacts. Backhands MAX.
CONTROL:
Let's stay on subject...
MAX:
A might touchy are we?
CONTROL picks up the folder that is on the table. Opens it and takes out one sheet and places it in front of MAX.
CONTROL:
What's this?
MAX:
(looking confused)
A character sheet!
CONTROL:
What's on it?
MAX:
(looks up at CONTROL)
My stats?
CONTROL:
Bingo.
MAX sits at the end of a table. From an ashtray a cigarette smolders. A video tape camera is focused on MAX. He is covered in splashes of red (blood). A DETECTIVE leans up against the wall by the rooms only door. CONTROL enters; he drops a manila folder on the table then looks at the DETECTIVE.
CONTROL:
Get us a coffee.
The DETECTIVE eyes MAX and then nods.
DETECTIVE:
Sure, Dan.
The DETECTIVE exits, closing the door behind him. CONTROL reaches over and shuts off the video tape.
MAX:
Dan. That your name?
CONTROL:
No, that's your name.
MAX:
(puzzled look)
What do you want?
CONTROL:
When are you going to end this charade? This multi-faceted facade you got going on? It will end when you acknowledge it.
MAX:
I don't know what you mean?
CONTROL leans across the table. He takes out two six-sided dice from his vest pocket and places them in front of MAX.
CONTROL:
You know damn well what is going on, and only you can fix that. Because right now you really are in some serious shit.
MAX:
(has a faraway look)
What do you mean by that?
CONTROL:
It's a game, Max. You're a character in a game!
MAX:
A what?
CONTROL:
I'm here to snap you out of it.
MAX hesitates, then...
MAX:
What do you mean?
CONTROL:
It means these two things control you destiny.
MAX:
Nothing controls my destiny. I am me.
CONTROL reacts. Backhands MAX.
CONTROL:
Let's stay on subject...
MAX:
A might touchy are we?
CONTROL picks up the folder that is on the table. Opens it and takes out one sheet and places it in front of MAX.
CONTROL:
What's this?
MAX:
(looking confused)
A character sheet!
CONTROL:
What's on it?
MAX:
(looks up at CONTROL)
My stats?
CONTROL:
Bingo.
20130810
This is Dangerous, I Walked Through Minefields...
"Magriel!" a voice in the crowd shouted, which made Mags turn around.
She was scanning the faces, and then an old familiar face caught her eye
and made a smile brighten hers; like a sun going supernova.
"Gabby!" Mags replied. She stepped forward and the two old friends embraced.
"I didn't know you were here," Gabby stated as she stepped back and looked more closely at her. "It's been a long, long time since we did something together."
"Come on," Mags said. "Let's have a coffee and do some catching up."
"Gabby!" Mags replied. She stepped forward and the two old friends embraced.
"I didn't know you were here," Gabby stated as she stepped back and looked more closely at her. "It's been a long, long time since we did something together."
"Come on," Mags said. "Let's have a coffee and do some catching up."
Remembrancing
Max stood amongst the crowd around the memorial. The sun had
broken through the clouds earlier and brought down a ray of light upon
the group. Both the sun and the clouds were dancing that tango, that
tango of a crisp Autumn day. Being thankful that rain wasn't showing up, although it would be fitting.
A bugle sounded off in the distance and many heads were bowed in unison, out of respect for those who had perished, from wars long ago and not long ago. Pretty placed his hand on Max's shoulder. "How goes it pal?"
Max gave him a sideways glance. "Glad to have you here."
"Wouldn't miss this for the worlds," Pretty replied; he had on his greys, with no medals; he wanted to be part of the crowd. "My name would have been carved in stone with Morris and Thandlerude if it wasn't for you."
Max smiled upon hearing Thandlerude's name. He remembered when he was sitting at post, and Thanderlude would be leaning back and playing his harmonica, and old blues song. Max could hear the song in his head but he had forgotten the name.
"Thandlerude," Max repeated. "What was that song he constantly played?"
Pretty thought about it for a few seconds. "I really don't know. But it was a haunting melody. I think it was an Otis Rush tune."
The bugle was done and then a little girl stepped forward and spoke into the mic. She was repeating a poem that was written many years ago, about a field. A field where flowers grew among the dead.
"I am going to look into it," Max said. He felt the vibration of his cellphone, but he made no attempt to answer it. He could talk later, now was the time of remembrance.
A bugle sounded off in the distance and many heads were bowed in unison, out of respect for those who had perished, from wars long ago and not long ago. Pretty placed his hand on Max's shoulder. "How goes it pal?"
Max gave him a sideways glance. "Glad to have you here."
"Wouldn't miss this for the worlds," Pretty replied; he had on his greys, with no medals; he wanted to be part of the crowd. "My name would have been carved in stone with Morris and Thandlerude if it wasn't for you."
Max smiled upon hearing Thandlerude's name. He remembered when he was sitting at post, and Thanderlude would be leaning back and playing his harmonica, and old blues song. Max could hear the song in his head but he had forgotten the name.
"Thandlerude," Max repeated. "What was that song he constantly played?"
Pretty thought about it for a few seconds. "I really don't know. But it was a haunting melody. I think it was an Otis Rush tune."
The bugle was done and then a little girl stepped forward and spoke into the mic. She was repeating a poem that was written many years ago, about a field. A field where flowers grew among the dead.
"I am going to look into it," Max said. He felt the vibration of his cellphone, but he made no attempt to answer it. He could talk later, now was the time of remembrance.
Out of the Woods and Back Into the Fight
Mags was tossed like a rag doll; she went flying up and over the trees
about 300 yards away, came crashing down hitting branches and
bouncing off a couple of trees along the way.
It wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last time that this sort of thing had happened.
She hit the ground with a sickening thud and lay still for several seconds before she lifted up her head.
"Ow," she muttered to herself. She began to pick herself up and shake the dizzying feeling from her body. Glancing around to see if she could see her katana. It was stuck in the ground, like a marker of sorts.
She saw it just a few feet from her and picked her battered and bruised body up, staggered over to the sword, and headed in the direction where she was thrown from.
She picked up the pace a little and upon leaving the tree line she bolted towards the combat. Max, Angst and Frank where still engaged with the robotic beast that towered 30 feet tall.
"It's my turn now," Mags whispered to herself as she brought up her katana and sped like a demon across the field to her intended target.
It wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last time that this sort of thing had happened.
She hit the ground with a sickening thud and lay still for several seconds before she lifted up her head.
"Ow," she muttered to herself. She began to pick herself up and shake the dizzying feeling from her body. Glancing around to see if she could see her katana. It was stuck in the ground, like a marker of sorts.
She saw it just a few feet from her and picked her battered and bruised body up, staggered over to the sword, and headed in the direction where she was thrown from.
She picked up the pace a little and upon leaving the tree line she bolted towards the combat. Max, Angst and Frank where still engaged with the robotic beast that towered 30 feet tall.
"It's my turn now," Mags whispered to herself as she brought up her katana and sped like a demon across the field to her intended target.
20130809
Pistol Whipped
"Look Max, I am the one with the gun here," Nell said. "You're in a sorry-ass state, Max. I got orders to pull this trigger and blow your fucking
head clean off.
"Well," Max rasped through a swollen jaw, "I guess a date is out of the question."
Nell brought up the butt of the gun to strike at him again but Ally got in the way when she brought her face close to Max.
"You're screwed," Ally told Max.
"Hah!" Max replied, startling the both of them. A spittle of blood flew from his mouth and touched Ally and Nell.
Nell brought up the butt of the gun and struck Max on the side of the skull, near the temple, sending his head back like JFK after the fatal shot from the grassy knoll.
"You killed him you bitch!" Ally screamed at Nell. "He's worth more to us alive."
Nell grabbed Max's head and showed Ally that, even though he was battered and bruised, he was still breathing, if only barely.
"You call me bitch one more time and I will fucking shoot you!" Nell warned her.
"Bitch," came a reply from the doorway. Nell turned to see a slender form with flowing red hair.
"Well," Max rasped through a swollen jaw, "I guess a date is out of the question."
Nell brought up the butt of the gun to strike at him again but Ally got in the way when she brought her face close to Max.
"You're screwed," Ally told Max.
"Hah!" Max replied, startling the both of them. A spittle of blood flew from his mouth and touched Ally and Nell.
Nell brought up the butt of the gun and struck Max on the side of the skull, near the temple, sending his head back like JFK after the fatal shot from the grassy knoll.
"You killed him you bitch!" Ally screamed at Nell. "He's worth more to us alive."
Nell grabbed Max's head and showed Ally that, even though he was battered and bruised, he was still breathing, if only barely.
"You call me bitch one more time and I will fucking shoot you!" Nell warned her.
"Bitch," came a reply from the doorway. Nell turned to see a slender form with flowing red hair.
> Simon in Plureality
In talking about it, and writing about it
he placed his burdens
on display, the fashion of anguish.
Making the effort to extend and externalize,
begging to be objectified, handled,
caressed, placed on her night-table,
the last thing seen before sleep,
a dream totem. Small and easily held,
her hands all about him.
He was counting on the gravity of his suffering,
the exquisite curvature of his past and future,
drawing her deep into the well of his now,
like a pit, like euclidian trajectories bent
into the circles of inferno. He felt warped,
and warping, and needed someone to act
as the planet, the source of his distortion,
its cause become the effect,
a want into need like matter into energy.
In his behaviour he offered up his troubles
in a performance to imaginary gods
in the covert hope she'd arrive to reveal
that they were in fact alone and therefore only together
and therefore his troubles hers and hers his only,
and he pretended his performance of faith
only for the day when she
might come to break it, another faith hidden
and nesting within the hollow husk.
He imagined it might be like the spreading of
an infection, his burdens passed onto her
The Beginning of the Beginning
TEASER
FADE IN:
A shot of a store-front window, the name painted on the front large picture window stating Eddie's Tea House with Coffee.
CUT TO:
Sidewalk POV up at the window as the glass shatters, camera follows body flying out the window over the camera.
MAX tumbles on the sidewalk, rolls up on his feet, bringing up his guns and firing through the busted store-front window. He makes a mad dash down the street firing behind him.
CUT TO:
FAT EDDIE stands at the broken window glancing out. His henchman MAN LING stands beside him hands clasp behind his back.
FAT EDDIE:
Max Cube will pay for this!
MAN LING:
Oh that he will, master.
FAT EDDIE:
You know what to do
MAN LING:
Call in She-Devil!
FADE IN:
A shot of a store-front window, the name painted on the front large picture window stating Eddie's Tea House with Coffee.
CUT TO:
Sidewalk POV up at the window as the glass shatters, camera follows body flying out the window over the camera.
MAX tumbles on the sidewalk, rolls up on his feet, bringing up his guns and firing through the busted store-front window. He makes a mad dash down the street firing behind him.
CUT TO:
FAT EDDIE stands at the broken window glancing out. His henchman MAN LING stands beside him hands clasp behind his back.
FAT EDDIE:
Max Cube will pay for this!
MAN LING:
Oh that he will, master.
FAT EDDIE:
You know what to do
MAN LING:
Call in She-Devil!
20130808
Underneath the Blanc Mansion
The platform was empty, dusty and full of cobwebs. It hadn't been used
in a long, long time. The doors slid open and Max stepped out, stepping
onto the dust covered platform, leaving a shoe imprint. He was like Neil
Armstrong who set foot upon a strange world for the first time, but his
speech wasn't as poetic and as grammatically messed up as Armstrong's was.
Max wasn't wearing an environmental protection suit, just his battle gear. A t-shirt with a tarot card of Death on it... and on the back of his shirt: Are You Prepared?
"Time to boogie," Max said.
Suki followed him, the Godhammer powered up, her arm a radiant light of death, said, "Lead on, Boss."
Akimoto brought up the rear with a huge sword; also a battle scowl was on his face much akin to a mime.
Max wasn't wearing an environmental protection suit, just his battle gear. A t-shirt with a tarot card of Death on it... and on the back of his shirt: Are You Prepared?
"Time to boogie," Max said.
Suki followed him, the Godhammer powered up, her arm a radiant light of death, said, "Lead on, Boss."
Akimoto brought up the rear with a huge sword; also a battle scowl was on his face much akin to a mime.
Faux Blog
An excerpt from Cube_Squared journal at Ghostbloggers:
The temple of your gods smile upon me, showing no remorse. For I am the light, or am I the truth; I am a fragmented being with no true form. No form whatsoever, a coherent thought holds rationality.
Under the notion of a burning sun, like sand become glass over time. Unbreakable and not brittle, as strong as steel.
I move my fingers and each are in different realities that I haven't been to, but I can feel what they are like. The hair on my body are like antennas, receiving signals. Beckoning like a Fraudian slip showing me the way, but promising nothing at all.
The temple of your gods smile upon me, showing no remorse. For I am the light, or am I the truth; I am a fragmented being with no true form. No form whatsoever, a coherent thought holds rationality.
Under the notion of a burning sun, like sand become glass over time. Unbreakable and not brittle, as strong as steel.
I move my fingers and each are in different realities that I haven't been to, but I can feel what they are like. The hair on my body are like antennas, receiving signals. Beckoning like a Fraudian slip showing me the way, but promising nothing at all.
Like a Puzzle Scattered on the Floor
He didn't know what his name was or where he came from. All he knew was that life for him began several months ago when he awoke and found himself on a beach somewhere. He wandered the surf for a few days, trying to figure out what he was doing there in the first place.
His nightmares over the months were a display of cinematic horror; winged beasts, explosions, an angel with flowing sentient hair, men in black and a cat that talked. And when he awoke each morning they would disappear; tucked away in his mind until he fell back to sleep.
There was the sound of a counter bell; DING.
"Order up, Joe," Shelly said, breaking him from his daydream. Shelly was still beautiful and it seemed that she had missed her true calling in life and stuck with the fast-food industry for the past 15 years.
Joe looked up at the order and nodded; the big E-Z breakfast. Like a good little solider he began to prepare the breakfast.
After pouring another round of coffee, Shelly went to the counter window and asked, "What's up, you seem to be distracted today?"
"I don't know," Joe replied as he broke 3 eggs on the grill alongside of the 3 strips of sausage and the 3 strips of bacon. "Just that I have this feeling, maybe a memory that's stirring."
"Well that's a good sign," Shelly said. She knew that when she had hired Joe four months ago that he had something about him. She just took pity on the stranger. "Maybe one day when I will open up the shop in the morning you will be gone."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," Joe said; he was scrambling up the hashbrowns. He looked at her with a cocked-eyebrow, doing his best Rock look.
Shelly smiled and turned her attention to the front door as the chimes jingled, like hummingbirds in the spring.
Joe turned his attention to the grill and was amazed at the detail he in his cooking; he didn't think that he was a fast order chef or even a chef at all, before this wave of forgetfullness. All he knew was that he was skilled.
The Long Cab There
INT. CAB - NIGHT
MAGS sits in the back seat. A parcel by her side, it's wrapped in a black foil and tied with red ribbon. MAGS is dressed to the nine, in a sultry red dress, high heeled pumps, and her hair styled back like a 1949's movie starlet.
The cabbie, an overweight caucasian sits behind the wheel. Constantly glancing into the rear-view mirror and looking at MAGS.
CABBIE:
So you hooking up with someone special?
MAGS:
Yes. Someone very special.
CABBIE:
Must be.
MAGS:
He is one of a kind. (laughs) Well, at least this version is.
MAGS sits in the back seat. A parcel by her side, it's wrapped in a black foil and tied with red ribbon. MAGS is dressed to the nine, in a sultry red dress, high heeled pumps, and her hair styled back like a 1949's movie starlet.
The cabbie, an overweight caucasian sits behind the wheel. Constantly glancing into the rear-view mirror and looking at MAGS.
CABBIE:
So you hooking up with someone special?
MAGS:
Yes. Someone very special.
CABBIE:
Must be.
MAGS:
He is one of a kind. (laughs) Well, at least this version is.
20130807
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