Monday, November 29, 2010

Sallie And Barry: The Bubble.

Picture From:



Just a short little scene I thought of whilst on the Train back from the City. Based on the Absurdist Play - "Waiting for Godot," written by Samuel Beckett.


Barry:
Sallie?

Sallie:
Yes Barry?

Barry:
Why we inside this bubble?

Sallie:
I donno. I can see my house from here!

Barry:
Sallie, we don't have homes. We're in this bubble!

Sallie:
Oh. I got some chocolate!

Barry:
Where'd you get the chocolate!? We've been in this bubble the whole time!

Sallie:
It's not real chocolate. I mean, I just used some of this dirt on the ground to make a pretend bar of chocolate.

Barry: Pauses and stares at Sallie in worry

Sallie:
What is it Barry?

Barry:
We're in a got damn Bubble Sallie! Where the hell did you get dirt from!?

Sallie:
Godot gave it to me.

Barry:
Who the hell is Godot?

Sallie:
He put us in this bubble, so we can float the skies away from the trouble underneath us.

Barry:
Yes, but who is he?

Sallie: Pause
I really like this chocolate!

Barry:
There's no chocolate in your hands Sallie! You're just nibbling on your shirt.

Sallie:
Oh... How depressing.

Barry:
Oh don't be discouraged Sallie. I bet this "Godot" person has something in mind for us, well if we've been put in this special Bubble.

Sallie: Starts blowing bubbles from a plastic stick

Barry:
Where the hell did you get those bubbles!?

Sallie:
They were just sitting there in my pocket looking all lonely like. Look at them go!

Sallie happily continues to blow bubbles. Barry looks disgruntled at the sight.

Barry:
Look, you going to let me blow some bubbles or not?

Sallie:
Well, have you checked your pockets?

Barry:
I don't have any pockets! Let me blow some bubbles.

Sallie: Cautiously passes the Bubbles to Barry
Don't waste them. Use only what you need.

Barry: Blows on them rapidly laughing hysterically
Oh this is soo fun!

Bubbles run out

Sallie: Looks as if about to cry
They're... They're all gone.

Barry:
Ahh, I've had my fun. So why are we in this bubble?

Sallie:
I don't care anymore. You've wasted all the bubbles!

Barry:
We're inside a giant bubble! Can't you just use some of the liquid off the ground for yourself?

Sallie:
But what if it pops Barry?

Barry: Angry sigh
I don't care, I've had my fun.

Sallie:
But what about me Barry? I don't want to hit the ground...

Barry:
Oh grow up Sallie! We're going to have to put our feet on solid ground soon anyway.

Sallie:
But I don't want to leave this bubble. It has everything!

Barry:
Everything!? There's no food, there's no water, there's nothing to do in here! Whatever Godot put us in here for, the end is going to be the best part.

Sallie:
I think it's comfortable in here. And look! I found a ball!

Sallie starts bouncing the ball

Barry:
Where the hell do you get these things from Sallie!?

Sallie:
I like finding things in my pockets! It's like a treasure hunt!

Barry: Franticly searches around clothes. Looks at Sallie in jealousy. Snatches the ball
Haha! This is going to be fun!

Barry throws the ball. The ball passes straight through the bubble

Sallie:
Well that was anticlimactic. Could have just asked me Barry.

Barry:
Why the hell do you get all these things and I don't!?

Sallie:
I don't know. Things just spring out at me sometimes!

Bubble Bursts. Barry and Sallie free fall.

Barry: Hysterically
Is this what you Godot had planned for us!? Just to wait all that time to fall?!

Sallie:
Look look look Barry! I found a cookie!

Sallie nibbles on cookie while Barry starts screaming

Barry:
It's been good knowing you Sallie you little bastard!

Sallie:
I wish I had my bubbles right now.

Barry lands inside another bubble. Sallie exits

Barry: Shouts and screams in happiness. Kisses bubble
Oh! Oh I'll never doubt this bubble again. It's scary out there! Did you find anything else there Sallie?

Barry looks around to see Sallie landing safely on the ground. Sallie re-enters frolicking in the grass

Sallie you bastard! Come back and get me!

Sallie takes no notice

Sallie: Talks to a tree
Hello there. Have you seen my friend Barry? We're being taken to Godot!

Pause

Shy are we? Don't worry, I won't eat you. I'm a carnivore, rawr!

Barry:
Sallie! I'm here! I'm up here you stupid bastard! Godot... I hate this bubble...

Barry starts screaming while falling upwards

Sallie: Talks to a pot plant
Hello Godot!



- A Short Script Play by Symon Taylor



This play probably doesn't make any sense to you whatsoever. It's highly symbolic though. You may take the bubbles as little extracts of technology distracting people everyday, or even being encased within them. And the moments spent without it feels as if you're falling, and that nothing can be done without them. But just fall, see what happens to you then. You may take the symbolic references in anyway possible, it's free for the mind to interpret; because that's what I aimed to do.

It's a story created in absurdity, purely symbolic.



Saturday, October 2, 2010

So Sick

This is an original image taken inside of the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne.

I've spent a lot of time in the city,
Seeing and hearing it's experiences of sound and design.
At heart, everyone is sick.

I get lost in the smog of tobacco smoke up and down Swanston,
Lost in a sea of Black as the Flinder's Goths swarm at night,
And battered with conformist suit-wear within the CBD.

I remembered when the Yarra was not brown in the clarity of last year's Summer,
I remembered a city of welcome, but not replaced with eyes of judgement.
I remembered a city of charity for the beggar, now dieing in the trash cans drenched in glutton, spelt with capital "M's".

Now it's been reduced to cut-throats, skin tight vanity, and Religious Extremists; of Bible, skin and air pumped foot-balls.

I found where what I remember retreats to though;
Across the river, dodging the trolls underneath the bridge,
Flourishing in white fountain...

And there, I made a wish to the sounds of oriental strings.

Give me trees, give me grass, give me emotion!
The Art's Centre of Melbourne, I want more than the sounds of cars screeching, or the Clown screaming "4 more quarter pounders!"
Take me away from the synthetic lights shouting to buy.

Give me something to feel, other than city heart sickness or a drunken slurr.
I thirst inspiration amongst the grass and flower-made clock,
Show me who knoweth first on rock made statue heads.

You provide the city, life;
Life to caputre, life to paint, life to sing, and life to act.
Near the palms and willows I write,

My favorite place in the city.



- A contemplation of thoughts by Symon Taylor.



Sunday, August 29, 2010

Situations.

Picture From: http://www.gangstersout.com/rage-against-the-machine.jpg


Sets you free sometimes...

People ask me why I listen to screamo, and heavy metal music. I tell them it's expression; although THEY can't understand it because of the ambiguity of the scream, it's another language to learn. Loud, and screamed is how it should be expressed; such strong and heavy hearted messages is what the final product projects through the essence of its music.

It calms me down. It's strange how music of hate, of rage, of passion can calm down such an angry soul. I guess it's a relation to situations, well, at least for the songs I listen to. I don't have a real music type/genre. I listen to songs that tell me a story, through the black and white notes on the guitar strings, through the heart beat of the drum, and the soul-drilling bass in context through the lyrics projected by a voice. They make you move, physically, and mentally.

It's pain, it's healing, it's revolution.
It's war, it's peace, it's cutting.
It's not a thought, and it's not something you can touch.
It's power, it's a weapon, it's a tool that is used by manipulators.
Music is the sounds that make you feel something, for life without sound in the soul, is like lighting fires with no air.
You spark, nothing else. Frictions that frustratingly try to set fire to something just tire and exhaust you. It's what you can channel.

I channel my rage through music, and is dispersed in a soulful way. I'm free, without physical intervention. Without it, I'd be mad.




Tuesday, August 3, 2010

The Missing Scene


Inspired by the video-clips - "Darling," by Eyes Set To Kill, "Vermillion Part 2," by Slipknot and the song "Romance Is Dead," by Parkway Drive.



In the darkest hours of our darkest times, I tear my hair out.
I want you to breathe to me, slowly, slowly now.
Let me know you're still alive.

Don't worry about me, I'm only dieing,
Dieing to reassure you that no one else has walked this far with me.
To a place best forgotten...

You mean everything to me, a factor too large to comprehend.
A myth that I have to believe in.
A heart that leaked and covered me.

Please just stitch our mouths shut now,
And let our eyes do the talking.
Glazed with the sounds of plucking strings, scratchy violins,

...and strokes from blood-stained paint brushes...

I can't let this build up inside of me.
All I need is one more reason to make us real,
But slowly the whole world is tearing it up in my eyes.

I watch every god-damned soul around me,
They wouldn't know love if it hit them in the chest,
And tore their hearts open just to see what's inside.

That's all they're looking for,
An opening to someone,
Or someone to fill it.

A bond of eternity is rare,
No one seems to see,
They just listen to the radio sounds of Sex, Drugs, and Violence.

They say a week is reasonable,
A month, spectacular,
But a year? Un-spoken in their tongue.

Our love story is ripped off a song that is forgotten,
Details different, but a song never sung again,
Only lingering off the tears on our lips, yearning to be screamed.

But what of this storm?
Are you being swept away?
Floating whimsically to the north?

I don't know what to do.
I'm chasing a plastic bag in the rain,
Weighed down by water, but pushed aside by the wind.

Don't lie to me,
I know you hurt,
Because I feel it too, scratching at the temples of my skull.

There's still yet to talk about my missing scene,
Where it is,
Why it's not here.

Reason it's missing is because we haven't made it,
I'm just trying to edit the next few pages,
From the script of eternity.



Writing piece by: Symon Taylor



I don't know. Just something written on the spur of the moment.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Hedgehog.


Note: The follow blog post contains *SPOILERS*. If you have not played the game, and do not want it to be ruined, DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING BLOG POST.


Foreword: One of my favorite video-games, Prototype, has got me thinking; what is it really like in the mind of Alex Mercer? First of all, by releasing the Blacklight Virus in Penn Station, New York, Mercer allowed himself to die, but mutate into an eniterly new entity, waking up in a morgue with no memories of his past self. The game is about Mercer's journey of revenge to the people that created the Blacklight Virus that turned him into something different; more or less than human.
To fully understand Mercer and his motives, you are obliged to watch the following videos:
Here's a link to the introduction cinematic to the game to get the feel for Mercer's character, and a bit of back-story: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RahEtkVxAPA&feature=related
Or, if you want a brief summary of what the game's about, click the following link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzVxa47UpDo&feature=channel
This writing piece is about Mercer's heart. Karen Parker, a geneticist and Mercer's girlfriend before he "died" or infected (However you would like to see it), betrayed Mercer soo easily when the outbreak of the Virus occurred throughout New York. She betrayed him by manipulating him to do numerous tasks, like gathering infectious DNA, to aid the Military and Blackwatch's task to combat Mercer. Later in the game, the player (as Mercer) has a chance to kill her if he/she went looking for her (Though killing was ambiguous).
Has the Blacklight Virus completely stripped Alex of humanity? Or has he become something much, much more...

"I looked for the truth. Found it, didn't like it. Wish the hell I could forget it. Alex Mercer; this city has suffered for his mistakes. For what he did at Penn Station. And whoever he was that's apart of me, is when I close my eyes, I see the memories of a thousand dead men screaming as I take their lives... Moments I'll re-live forever. What have I become? Something less than human? But also something more... One virus, 3 weeks, millions dead. And I was there. My name was Alex Mercer, and my work is almost done."
- Alex Mercer at the end of the game.

This clash of monologue thoughts happen between Mercer and a former work mate. This work mate recognizes Alex from when they used to work for Gentek, the company that enhanced the Blacklight Virus.


Setting: The Virus outbreak has been eradicated from New York, but Blackwatch and the Military still search for Mercer.

Key Terms (Brief summary):
Blacklight - The virus that swept New York
Blackwatch - A secret military branch that specialize in Biological Warfare.
Gentek - A genetic research facility Alex, Karen and Veronica were apart of.
Elizabeth Greene - The only human to survive and contain the Blacklight virus in her own unique genetic structure.
Director McMullen - The man in charge of the whole Blacklight Virus study.


Prototype: 2009 Activision Publishing, Inc. Activision is a registered trademark and Prototype is a trademark of Activision Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.


Mercer:
What the hell do I do. Do I have feelings for her, but what feelings? Anger? Rage? Humanity... Alex Mercer died at Penn Station, so who.... What am I? What the hell, am I?
The military code-named me "ZEUS." Am I a god or something? But even Gods have direct feelings. Soo many people died because Alex Mercer released a Virus at Penn Station. Soo many people infected, soo many innocents caught in the crossfire. And I consumed them all to find a truth I had created. I can still hear all of their voices inside of me, screaming out to me in a web of the virus that is the very fabric of my life. But that's another thing, am I alive? I have soo much life running through me that is not mine; the lives of countless others I have made into one, into me. I hate contemplating life and death, because I'm both of them, with identity issues.
They're only now allowing people cross the bridges off the island after soo long, but many people don't leave. Not after what they saw here. I saved these people, now I'm responsible for them. They deserve to live if they have survived me... An infection. All of the scientists and military personal who killed Alex Mercer, and those who created the virus are dead, I don't need to kill anymore. But what is there for me now, why do I still linger? There's still a military presence here, but they can't find me...


Veronica:
I should have handed him into the authorities, but after what he did to Karen? I wouldn't dare. I saw him visit Penn Station yesterday, the spot where the virus apparently started. He saw me straight away, stared at me for a while. His bold, grey, silver eyes locked onto me, and before I knew it he vanished into the crowd, with no evidence of his presence. I... I couldn't move, I didn't know what to do. Was he going to kill me? Did he really survive the infection un-harmed? Damn Blackwatch had the whole show behind curtains, even for a chief geneticist at Gentek like me. From what I've heard, I am one of the few surviving geneticists from the studies of the Elizabeth Greene. She was such a focal point in human discovery, and what we can do with evolution. She was the key to unlock the secrets of humanity. In her blood, the Redlight virus created many strands of DNA that reacted to different things. We witnessed few such cells dissolving cancers into nothing. We saw these cells replicate with each other, creating blood clots and white blood cells at the same time for accelerated healing. She was going to be humanity's hope, but Alex and Karen had other plans for the virus. It was not even a sickness, but a leap in humanity. Greene's genetic structure had the answers to everything, and yet, the one mistake that cost millions of lives in New York.
Now we live on like nothing ever happened. We are supposed to forget the mistakes of Gentek causing a genocide of millions of innocent people. But I heard many of them mutated into something else, something, not human at all. Savage, merciless. But after the nuke went off out at sea, everything changed for the better. The infection spread became less vigorous and was contained by the military. But why did the nuke go off in the middle of the sea? How is Alex alive after all he has done?


Mercer:
You come to the point where you take soo many lives, you start to question your own. I thought that, if I could save them all, I could somehow redeem myself. But who exactly am I impressing? God? That toy was done with me as soon as Alex joined Gentek. No, something more. I now have a stable position within the Military, taking note on how they're trying to find me, and sabotaging every plan. They're not going to find me, not yet.
A problem with hiding in public is when people start to recognize you. Veronica Miles, one of the people who worked with Alex on the Blacklight Virus, saw me when I came back to the spot where I released the virus at Penn Station. She instantly remembered me, fixed her eyes upon mine. I looked into her eyes, and somehow Alex's memories reached out to me and told me who she was. I should hunt her down so she can't speak a work about me. I should have killed her, right there and then, in the middle of Penn Station. I should have consume her, so her genetic knowledge and skills could not be used against me. But why didn't I? At that place, on that moment? She was frozen, ready to be killed, but, I ran away. Far away.
At that moment, I didn't look at her as one of my priority threats. I didn't look at her as my next target. I looked through her eyes, and stared at her soul. I don't think I've ever looked at someone like that. It brought memories to my head, memories of Alex Mercer and Karen Parker. Intimate feelings like that died with Alex Mercer, because I was betrayed by Karen, and she paid with her life. I cannot fall into this. I'm a monster.


Veronica:
From everyone else's perspective, Alex and Karen were the cornerstones to the whole project. It wouldn't have functioned as efficiently without the two of them. Even Director McMullen gave them top security access to make the research run faster. I guess that was his mistake. The two of them dug too far, and paid the consequences. Karen tried to run for it, but was caught and sent to a concentration camp to be interrogated into agreeing not say a word. And Alex? No one knows exactly. Most sources say that he was shot at Penn Station, but that would be too much waste of a great mind. They say he killed all the agents that were after him, and he went rouge seeking refugee underground. These are just stories, and I intend to ask him myself.
I've hacked into New York's big-brother network; speed cameras, shopping mall cameras, whatever's recording. He seems to be interested in Military zones. What is he up to? Is he really plotting a terrorist conspiracy against us? He can't be, his movements are too slow, as if he wants to be caught. Maybe he's trying to bring someone out of hiding? I can never be sure. All I know is, he's incredibly smart, a master's degree in genetics, engineering and a whole lot of stuff that's been wiped off the internet and put into top secret files in the military.
There's nothing about him being a soldier, or have hand military training, so how has he survived this long? Has he had special undercover training? Been taught overseas? It's impossible, because being a geneticist is a full time job, with no real breaks in between. Soo many questions I want answered, but I can't find them by sitting here. I have to look for him.


Mercer:
I don't remember any of my... Alex's past. I've made my own through the recent evens that made what was left of Alex like this. But I do know a range of past experiences from those I've taken. I see countless fathers embracing the warmth of their children, I see hardened souls with no room for love, for heart takes too much room in the conscious mind. What stuck out to me most was a scientist's forbidden love with a woman from India. She was royalty or something, and her family was bias against the tyrant that labels itself, "America." Direct quote mind you.
This scientist travels to the dangerous Dudhwa Jungles of India, to pick some rare plants to help his research. In the jungle he spots a wandering Princess picking strange flowers; they happened to hold the yam, Armorphophallus Paeoniifulius, the exact plant he needed. He steps out from the bushes, and asks the princess for the flowers. Funnily enough, she spoke English back and asked if she could escape to America with him. Astounded with her beauty, he agreed. But that was before her guards shot the scientist in the arm, and took the princess back to the Maharajah. Disappointed and discussed with her daughter, the Maharajah ordered an execution for her, on the charges of conspiring with an American. But the scientist then infiltrated the palace, killed some guards, rescued the princess, and kicked the Maharajah in the eye. He then shipped off with her to New York where they lived happily ever after. Stupid fairy tale endings.
Dumbfounded strength, luck, courage, or whatever it was, he got the job done. But this sheer determination didn't come from a cause, because he could have left with the flowers back to America, and made heaps of money. No, he got a bonus from stupid actions; a princess. Or rather, a wife. And to be able to have the privileged of kicking Indian Royalty in the eye? Something was up. He wasn't driven by vengeance, like I was, because he was injured from a guard shotting him in the arm. He wasn't angry because he had to hide from authorities to step on "Forbidden Land" to collect some flowers. No, he was driven by a heart. Something I am still yet to understand. For the only heart I ever came close to, even if it was Alex's, had betrayed me.


Veronica:
Dr. Peadar Aisling kept putting the people at Gentek down because we were seen as the "Spoilt" scientists, getting everything provided to us by demand. Dr. Aisling always used to brag about his adventures overseas to gain materials for his research. What a man though, shot 9 times in his career, fought against Shoulin Monks, crossed swords with some of Japan's greatest Samurai, and married an Indian Princess after kicking the Maharajah in the eye. Truly outstanding lies to look down upon us. Just because we had military funding, and our research would actually one day benefit humanity.
Karen Parker would usually gloat about our fundings in front of Dr. Aisling, and giving shame to his research. Alex always tried to pull her back, but Karen was usually full of herself. Alex didn't deserve that. Alex had a brilliant mind, never skipping a stone in his own research. He was thorough, never missed a spot under the microscope. Many people were fired because they couldn't keep up with him. Even I had trouble keeping up with him. I thought I had made a major discovery when I found a strand of the virus transforming itself into a cancer, yet quickly reversing it. I was excited and ready to tell the Director, but I looked over at Alex's work station to see he was one step ahead of me, and had already made it's anti-body. He was flawless in his work, so I don't understand why he could have gone rogue against Gentek, against the military, against America. He is known to be America's most dangerous Terrorist. But from what I remember during the infection, Alex was only mentioned to appear on the radio or T.V, not doing anything. He is an innocent man. He is a victim.


Mercer:
To realise I was a victim of whatever Alex did at Penn Station, was, liberating. Like a Phoenix; Alex Mercer had to die, so that I would be born. But what if life didn't go this way? What if the mistakes of Alex Mercer never occurred? I don't know a thing about him personally, yet, I'm enclosed within his image. What if the life of Alex Mercer continued and I would have never been created? New York would still be the filth it always was, secrets would still be secrets and millions of people would still be alive; even those who were responsible for the virus, those responsible for my creation. I can't dwell on the past though, because now I've been given gifts that could shatter the world. I am invincible.
Yet still these feelings keep pushing me around. One look into Veronica's eyes, and I've been fixed. I found out where she lives, and I've kept a close eye on her. But why am I doing this!? She knows who I am! She knows Alex's past! I should take her memories so I can at least get some knowledge of Alex's past in Gentek! I should kill her at rid me of the last threat against my refuge in New York! No one knows I'm still here in New York, the military thought I died on the Reagan! She is a threat to me, and my plans to completely destroy Blackwatch! SO WH..... Why can't I kill her? There is no heart left within me, only the virus tissues lying dormant within me, ready to be used at any time... So what is keeping me from killing her? I have to find out. I have to know. It's been 6 days since I saw her at Penn Station, so tomorrow, she'll be taking the train home from work. I have to know why...


Veronica:
Alex's movements have been more spontaneous lately. He's become more elusive in his movements, covering his tracks every step of the way. He's planning something, and he's going to reveal it soon. Not only has he been around Penn Station numerous times again, but now he is infiltrating military databases on a daily basis. Is he planning something city wide? Will he shut down all communications or something? Is he looking for the perfect place to release the virus again? He can't though, all virus samples have been incinerated... All that work, destroyed... Maybe Alex still has samples. Perhaps that's why he infiltrates the military bases? To get all the remaining data left on the virus? He's continuing the research into the Blacklight Virus! I know he can find the right DNA strand of the virus to cure all diseases, rid the world of sickness and disability! He will create it into the most outstanding medical breakthrough in the history of mankind! He will finish the work of the late Director McMullen. He will achieve what no man has ever achieved before!
But why has he been around my area? All of the main military bases are near Morningside Park, while I live in a apartment in Koreatown. Is he scoping out the area for someo... Me.
He knew I recognized him, he knew I'd be onto him, and maybe that's why he's been on the military databases; to check out who I've been spying on. He's after me... Crap.. No!... What have I done?


Clashing monologues end here, the story begins with an ending...


Dark clouds shroud New York as a lone Veronica Miles walks to her apartment in the rain. Shadow like figures stalk her, and feelings of fear press down hard upon her chest, making her gasp for breath. The wet, steel, cool feeling of her apartment gates make her shiver, as she opens the lock only to be quickly closed again in a loud, sudden crash. The sound of shaking metals echo throughout her apartment corridors as she rushes to seek refuge in her own room. The elevator arrives with it's small bell ringing as she rapidly presses the button to her floor. The door, she can see it across the corridor from the elevator, with its white invitation, it calls to her. She now runs out of the elevator to her apartment door, taking everything out of her bags to find the key. The sounds of various items dropping onto the hard wooden floors scream into her ears as the rattling of her keys stay in beat with her feat. The key enters the lock; silence embers as the sounds of the clicking lock makeshift with its key. The door opens, and quickly shuts as Veronica sits and curls up in front of the door, preventing it from opening again.
The familiar smell of her apartment comforts her; the old musk of the old building, the scent of the omelet she cooked in the morning, the Jasmine tea left un-touched, and the smooth touch of her favorite vanilla scented candles. Everything was the way she had left it in the morning, even her chubby house cat, sound asleep. She closes her eyes and takes in the relaxation of being home. But she was not alone...
She could feel another presence in the room as the goosebumps on her skin began to rise. Sweat began to shed, and her eyes were welded shut. "You're here aren't you? You're here to kill me?" Veronica muttered. "Veronica Miles, chief geneticist at Gentek. Ex-employee." Said a voice from amidst the shadows. "You are among the last people who know who I am."
"I don't know you." She replied. "Then how did you recognize me at Penn Station last week? Why have you been spying on me!? Why did you hack military databases to find information on me when you could have stolen secrets and sold them for money!? Why haven't you reported me to Blackwatch!!!" The voice shouted as it emerged from the shadows. "Or have you already? Give me a reason not to kill you!"
"ALEX!"

.....

The room fell into a deep silence as these two trembling souls locked their eyes on one another once more. Staring at each other, perfectly still as the rain outside spits onto the windows. Thunder could be heard outside, projected from the darkest clouds. His glowing silver eyes pierce the very fabrics of her heart, rendering her in full stillness, and silence. She was drawn into his eyes like dust to a vacuum.


Lightning flashes, but still Mercer's glowing eyes linger. And Veronica's golden, amber eyes sit un-moved, defenseless, weak in the eyes of fear. There was not even the most subtle blink, even with the flashes of light coming from the storm outside. She wanted to cry, but her tears falter. She wanted to run, but her body wouldn't let her. She just stared into the eyes of death; with no hope, no warmth staring into the cool depths of the steel-tipped iris.


"Alex Mercer..." She whispered. "What happened to you?"
He blinked as she said this, freed from the trans he was set in. He looked away, and walked towards the window, staring out into the drenched city, with her eyes following his footsteps.
"I died at Penn Station. Now this is all that's left, wandering 'life' in this image." He said self-scornfully.
Veronica stood up in confusion and crept over to where he was standing. "What do you mean Alex? You're standing right in front of me?"
Red and black molecules cover Alex like a cloud over skyscrapers, and as the fog clears, another man is in his place. The same cloud passes up and down his body, and as it does different people stand where he once stood. Like a shutter door opening and closing rapidly to reveal the crew and characters of the same play; in one man. Veronica recoils at the sight of this and falls onto her back. Crawling rigorously, trying to escape with her eyes still locked on his, she approaches her keys on the floor. Still shape-shifting, he/it talks;
"In front of you, you see whatever's left of Alex Mercer. Another disguise, another image; for whatever is left of Alex is all of these people you see, screaming into my ears until they bleed dry. Whatever's left of Alex is whatever killed him at Penn Station. Whatever is left of Alex Mercer has all but faded, I AM THE BLACKLIGHT VIRUS!"

Silence deafens, as a battle between their eyes occur, taking with it, it's casualties. Alex quickly escapes outside of the window closely chased by Veronica. She catches a glimpse of him running vertically up the wall to the top of the building, so she quickly ran to her door, and quickly out into the corridor. She passes her possessions she dropped giving no attention to where she steps. Rushing into the elevator, confused, questioning, angry and scared, she presses the button to the top floor. Hurrying out of the elevator door, past the hallway, she sees the entrance to the rooftop. As the door opens, she immediately sees Alex on the ledge of the building facing the streets below, and the rush of the many raindrops drenches her body. She runs out onto the middle of the roof, feeling the needles of the iced wind blow against her while the saltiness of her tears enters her mouth.

"If everything of Alex's is all but gone, why haven't you killed me yet?" Her quivering lips queried.

"Because, you're now apart of me." He answered, as the rain drenches his clothes, and clouds surround Veronica.

No tears, no regrets, no more questions. Hearts beat, but there is no sound, only the pale raindrops upon New York. Only one on the rooftop, but none standing. Memories gracefully flow, but quickly fade, as the rooftop door swings to the push of the wind. Water runs down the skin on his face, but it's not rain. Looking up into the skies he shouts at the top of his lungs, at the thunder mocking him from above.


Fan-Fiction Story Written By - Symon Taylor.


Reason for title: The closer you get to a small innocent creature like a hedgehog, the more it's needles are going to hurt you. It pierces the skin, gets stuck, and can end up with infections. This analogy can be used in everyday human interaction especially when it comes to the most difficult relationships. Sometimes, in the end, you just have to give it up.


Note Character Names:
Alexander Mercer = Warrior/Defender of Mankind, Storekeeper.
Veronica Miles = True image, Grace.

Monday, June 21, 2010

The Pieces.

Our English teacher told us to make a one minute scene in relevance to the film "Look Both Ways." We were then given two ideas that linked into the film for each pair. But I'm awesome and went by myself.

My two ideas were: - Alienation and Despair.


-Camera focused on muted mouths arguing. Shots are taken from various angles. The camera will then be zoomed out to see a father and a son arguing in the front yard of their court. The son is holding a brand new guitar-

Dad:
You idiot! Why the hell did you go out and buy a guitar for!? I taught you finance! The art of spending money efficiently, not putting it to waste!

Son:
Please dad, I've put up with numbers for too long... I need some kind of outlet... I need at least some kind of emotion, without figures....

Dad:
What the hell is music going to do for you?! Our family has specialised in finance for years! We've been stable with money for many generations! And YOU disgrace us by wanting to strum on a piece of wood!?

Son:
But dad, why should our family continue along this same track? Why should I be condemned to follow your same freight train, and all of my following sons and daughters!?

Dad:
What the hell is wrong with you!? You're supposed to be MY successor! But now you're chasing this.. this outlandish dream!? You've brought same on this family. Why can't you be perfect like your older sisters?

Son:
Because I'm not a depressed money crunching leech like you!

-Silence. Camera pans past their silent mouths. They stare at each other briefly, camera focuses on their eyes-

Dad:
Well then chase your stupid dream.

-Silence-
-Dad grabs then throws guitar out into the court-
-Camera is fixed behind the Dad before he throws it. The cameras are placed at different angles to catch the guitar flying in slow-motion. The last camera is placed on the floor parallel to the crash site of the guitar-

-Cameras are placed beneath the crash site where they will sit still, looking at the wooden shards fly passed the sun's rays. A side camera will view the breaking of the neck before another camera will zoom on the strings snapping. The last camera will be from a bird's eye view of the crash looking at the remains of the guitar. There is a brief pause-

-Sounds of harps play-

-Camera focused back on the father's face, then switched over to the Son, who is trying to hide his pain-
-Camera is then place between them, showing the son looking directly into his father's eyes. The father walks into the house-

Song: Perfect by Simple Plan, starts playing as the son picks up the pieces of his guitar.


- Script By Symon Taylor


Thursday, June 10, 2010

The Accounts of David Simmons - A Boer War Journal.



*An old writing piece done in 2009*


The following journal was found at The Transvaal in Africa. Some pages were lost in the plains of mud and only a few dates could be recognised, all other dates we’re approximated guesses made by the Archaeologists. This Journal was decrypted by War Archaeologist – Vern Simmons (Great grandson of David Simmons). This historical document was provided by Symon Taylor


Late January

...It was another cold January’s day at the orphanage in Birmingham; another day being trapped here with people just like me; except, I’m the oldest, making me the most responsible. It was the same old thing every morning; I get up, wash my face, and get all the little ones up for breakfast. They all came downstairs by the dozens, all dreary from their trip back to reality. The children were fed and are dressed for school and soon after, I lead the children off towards the local public school. I smiled and waved goodbye to each of them as I headed off to University.

The young ones... how innocent they looked this morning, skipping or plodding along. A pathetic bunch some might call us, because of how pathetic we really are. We all rely on the kindness of humanity in the form of donations; but even that can fail us sometime. Where is our hope? The hope of having parents of our own? Where is our light? To guide us through this empty tunnel? Where is our support? Donations can fail us sometimes...

But there was one thing that kept us going; it was our love of each other in the orphanage, how we were one with the building, and with all of the people inside. No one was left out, we included everyone, even when it came to story time; I would have at least two or three children on my lap. But still, I am a young adult, and I should be leaving the orphanage soon to get a job to help society. I always wonder at night, who will take care of the young ones like I would?

Today, when I first stepped into the University grounds I closed my eyes and smiled, taking a deep breath. My escape from reality; the University, learning can just sometimes lift my mind off other matters, to focus on the knowledge being thrown at us. It was the light at the end of my tunnel, but yet can be the train heading towards me, with massive amounts of assignments.

Every morning when I enter the school grounds, I always see a great lad named Marcus (“Marko”) Smith on one of the front benches with books; loads and loads of books. I love making fun of him, even though he’s like a brother to me, I keep repeating to him that he should get a life instead of burying himself in books. But once I’m done with the teasing, I join studying with him. After a few hours in the University, like always, Marko and I would go to his place to stay for a bit. But today something very different happened.

On the side of the street near Marko’s place, we saw a large crowd build up. I asked one of the chaps what was happening. He told me that there was a war happening in the distant lands of Africa. We walked up to the middle of the crowd and saw a poster with the details of where to sign up. Marko and I had a chat about it, “The possibilities Africa could present us!” we said. An agreement was made between us, to stick together as brothers, and to Africa we shall go...

Early February

...It was hard leaving the orphanage, and it’s harder yet keeping up with the drills they make us do here in the Birmingham training grounds. Plus all that topped on top of keeping Marko together, I heard his mother was not too happy letting us two go. Marko said to me that his mother felt like she was letting two sons go at the same time; boy did that make me smile. But this is, like the poster on the street said, for our country and for the fallen fathers who fought in the first, brief, Boer War.

Marko is sleeping right now on the top of our bunk-bed knowing we have to repeat this hard training session every day until the 20th; my body feels like it has been hit with stones. But I know it will be all worth it when I fight for the closest thing I have to family; Marko’s, my sworn brother’s, father. Marko seemed to keep up fairly well today though, a little struggle on the obstacle course, but otherwise he did fine.

Marko; what a champion. Even though I was the younger and stronger one out of the two of us, he was the smartest one. We were practically opposites, but it was that sense that made us come together like brothers. Back at university I remember if anyone would pick on him, they would have to deal with me, and if I was failing at a subject, I would have to go through one of his mind numbing lectures. But all in all it was great, we were like the markets and the farms, one can’t survive without the other.

Today Marko and I met up with this fellow named Robert Jenkins; I just called him Bob, it seemed more appropriate at the time. He shares the same tent as us; he sleeps on bed 5 row 2. He shares a bunk with a large fellow named Benjamin Leyden, he’s usually very quiet. Marko keeps moving around in his sleep in the bunk above, wonder what he’s dreaming about? Poor lad, I can’t even begin knowing what he’s going through, because I have no parents to feel it with...

19th of February

...Same day as usual, but training has become easier and easier, even Marko is keeping up strong. Heck Bob Jenkins flew right through the obstacle course; he’s really strong for a kid who got beat up by his dad as a child. You can really tell it hurts him inside though, every day he has a look about him, it’s somewhat eluding for some, but I notice more than people give me credit for.

Marko has stopped moving around in his sleep recently; it’s probably because we are being shipped off to Africa tomorrow afternoon. I am very excited myself about tomorrow, we shall get to see Lions! The proud animal of Africa they say it is. I have only seen a few pictures of them from the local photographer back near the orphanage, giant cats the man described them as. Gosh how did I adore Lions, the children at the orphanage knew how much I did and sculpted a lion bed head just for me.

God how I miss the orphanage, the children, my Lion shaped bed, the headmaster getting angry when her tea wasn’t made properly; and how the children used to listen attentively when I told my stories. Their favourite story was one the old headmaster used to tell my generation of orphans; it was called “The Rusty Knight.” It was not a tale of a knight in “Shining Armour,” but of the smart knight who was hard to see in the woods. Almost invisible when near trees, a perfect man for an ambush. His armour was his chivalry, and he only fought for the most valiant lords of the land.

But unfortunately this was an old tale written by a Boer, my enemies. These were the people that killed many brave British soldiers; I will return the favour when my time comes...

28th of February

...Ending the battle of Ladysmith, it was hard and gruesome, but worth it. I am the Awaking Lion who has just tasted blood, now I want more. Exhilarating is how I would describe the passing battle, the Boers didn’t know what hit them when I joined the fight. I used every bit of my rifle, I shot on the mark, I stabbed with my bayonet, and if I did not have time to reload, I would beat my next opponent with my rifle as if it was a stick. Marko on the other hand was lagging behind me, carefully picking his next position after the next and taking his time to aim. It annoyed me it did.

Then there was Bob Jenkins... Robert “Bob” Jenkins... a brave soul the kid was. He stormed the main camp with his unit to blow up their block houses. His unit was successful, but on his retreat an artillery shell went off at his side blowing his arm off. Marko and I saw the whole thing, for we were the unit covering their escape. When we brought Bob in to get patched up, it was already too late. Those god forsaken Boers, those monstrous British hating Boers! It’s their fault Bobby is dead! We may have won the battle because of Bob’s regiment, but that won’t bring him back. People come up to Marko and I saying “We could not have done it without Bobby,” but that won’t bring him back!

The kid got close to Marko and I, he was like our 3rd sworn brother. I shall exact my revenge soon; we will start marching off to Mafeking tomorrow. The Boers would have to wish they had never been born by the time I meet them in battle, my rifle is at the ready, my bayonet is sharpened, and my wits shall pierce the enemy’s hearts with the proud ROAR of my battle cry!...

17th of March

...I lick my wounds and I clean my claws, it’s the night ending the Mafeking battle. The Boers got what they deserve, but apparently they put up a good fight. They were more morally uplifted, while our troops were still tired from the last battle and the walk here. A bunch of pansies they are, including Marko, he got mad at me because “I apparently” revealed our position. I can’t help it if I wanted to kill the lot of them, I might have killed the cannon operator who shot the shell that blew up Bobby. All I did was charge out into enemy lines killing ever damn Boer I saw. All in all, it was necessary, the bastards deserved it.

A few hours ago, Marko started to shout at me, after his lecture from General Roberts. He must have been cranky after the battle, or just really tired, he didn’t know what he was saying. Marko kept saying things like “We almost lost because of your bloodlust!” or “The plan was all set, why in all hell did you not follow it!?” and “I’m the one who is being held responsible for your damn actions!”

I don’t care about the damn tactics, I make my own plan, kill the bastards and live another day. Marko decided to take it a bit further and blame my bloodlust on Bobby’s death. I punched him in the face when he said that, then I told him that no matter how many Boer’s I kill, it will never bring back Bobby. But like always, Marko was right, he’s always right, but it’s just sometimes I get so frustrated that he is always right. That’s why I punched him, and that’s why I lied. We’ve become a bit distant now, don’t know if he’ll forgive me or not, we shall just have to see where the future takes us.

We’re heading off to Johannesburg next; they say there we will have a memorial service for all those who have died thus far.

21st of July

...It’s been 4 months walking to Johannesburg, 4 long muddy months, and they say it will be another month before we reach the city though, another month until I, well, we can properly say goodbye to Bobby. Marko has been even more distant than usual, yet, he is always hovering around me. Not sure what’s wrong with the chap, I didn’t punch him that hard. Probably because of what I had done, I am supposed to be his brother for Pete’s sake. I’ll find a right time to talk to him, but for now, I will leave him be.

It is night time right now, and I’m outside by the fire place. I looked up to see the stars, there’s so many of them. They say that when we die our spirits are sent to God to be transformed into the bright lights in the sky. I hope when I die, I would be close to Leo, the Lion star sign; or next to my brother, in an everlasting eternity.

Marko is in his tent sleeping, I never get much sleep anymore after that incident in Mafeking. It was an epiphany for me, my bloodlust was taking over me, I wasn’t thinking straight. I snapped myself out of it when Marko left the tent that evening. How stupid could I have been?

I can hear in the distance the mighty roar of the Alpha Lion, maybe he’s won a territorial fight, or found dinner for his pride. But that’s what I sounded like when I rushed out into the battle at Mafeking. My pride, my lust, and my vengeance were all that could be heard. That day still echoes through my mind over and over again.

While looking back at the stars, I begin to wonder to myself: Why are we here? Why didn’t the war against the Boers end the first time? I know we’re avenging past soldiers, but what for? What is so special about Africa? Other than the Lions of course.

It makes me wonder at night, what is it all for? I went around to numerous people, except Marko, and asked the question to them; they began to wonder as I did. Even the generals and corporals wondered the same thing; there was something more to Africa, if Mother Britain wanted it so much...

1st of September

...What a walk it was from there to here, but we got our lucky break; the Boer’s left Johannesburg before we got here, and the towns people were more than friendly. We marched into the town yesterday and what a damn right mess this town’s in, even the central clock tower had a hole in it, and I don’t know if anyone noticed it except me. We just had a memorial service today, what a burden off my shoulders, I could finally say goodbye to Bobby and the rest of my fallen brethren.


It was at the service where Marko and I made amends, I said sorry to him for being such a git, and that he was right all along. We made up and now we’re talking again, well, slowly starting to. He may not show it all the time but I know deep inside of him he is always thinking of his mother, his poor mother; frozen still in the cold depths of Birmingham, England.

Still reminds me of the children at the orphanage, I can still see their faces locked within my mind. Carlton, Patrick, Lily, Bradliegh, Bryony, Samantha, Susan and Billy; they were my favourites in the orphanage. Even though we were all brothers and sisters in cause, these 8 were here the longest with me, and knew me the most. They were my pride, and I was the Alpha Lion, we all provided for each other.

The last month walking here was the worse; I am still trying to clean the mud off my boots. The rain didn’t help either; I had to replace all of my ammunition because all of the gunpowder was wet. Marko laughed at the sight of me draining my munitions one by one, wasn’t that funny. What a waste, but at least I can relax, at least until the 30th, they say that the battle in the Transvaal would be one of our greatest battles yet.

But I still wonder, what is this all for? I asked around even more, and I heard rumours of gold! If that is what this war was fought over, I think I have lost my faith in humanity...

29th of September

...A girl, Marko is upset with me because I’m chasing a girl. He’s acting like the jealous minor Lion in the pride who wants to be the Alpha. I met her the day after the memorial service; she came on to me like sour cream on a baked potato. It’s the spoils of war; I have to have a bit of fun while I’m in town, or else I might go mad. You see a lot in war, and you need something to distract you from it. She was my distraction.

By the way Marko looks at her; I can tell that he doesn’t like her. I don’t know what’s wrong with the chap anymore, she’s always nice to him, but he just turns a blind eye. Marko tries to avoid me now, becoming distant but yet close once again. He’s always watching me, I can feel it in my gut, even if I can’t see him physically, I know he’s always somewhat lost in the crowd near me.

I said sorry to the boy, isn’t that enough? I just don’t get it, if he hates my girlfriend and me so, why is he always sticking close to me? I don’t know how he copes with me, my arrogance, my lust for Boer blood, and my stupidity with tactics. I’m going to prove myself to him when we get to the Transvaal; I want to remind him that he is still my brother in both cause, and spirit.

We leave here tomorrow, luckily I married that girl in town, Marko doesn’t know though. I just wanted someone to carry my name through the generations. The night of our wedding was wondrous, when the Alpha Lion would make an heir to his throne. She was brilliant, the most wonderful wife a man could have. Beautiful, caring and in-tune with my needs she is, but alas will I have to leave her.

She’s lying there next to me in my bed while I write this; her beauty makes the moon’s light illuminate on her skin like an angel. My Lioness, her stomach is starting to bulge with my heir to my throne; my achievement in life. But, like my father, I would have to leave him wondering who his father was. But at least he has a mother, a mother who will look after my little cub.

It’s Marko’s life all over again. His father impregnated his mother before leaving to go off to the first Boer War; Marko has only seen pictures of him. He’s more fortunate, my wife and I do not have the luxury of cameras or time. My heir will have to become strong without me; he will have to be better than me, for my heir has a mother, something I grew without. Tomorrow shall be my day of atonement to my brother, to say sorry for my past actions. I don’t care why I’m here anymore, I don’t care about our leaders and what they stand for, Marko needs a brother right now, and I’ll be there...

22nd of October

...Marko is still the same, god how I feel guilty about it. We spent a whole month in Johannesburg, and only a few days were spent with Marko. I’m his brother for GOD’S SAKE! How much of an idiot can I be!? I was right; my wife was a distraction, a distraction from reality! Marko, the closest thing I have to family... how could I be so stupid.

We have made it to the Transvaal and have set up to defend against a Boer ambush (information provided by our scout’s). Marko’s on the other side, making sure that everything’s in place. God what a soldier, he knows what he’s doing, and what is happening next. What a fine chap. He still hovers around me, as if I had an aura about me, and strange looks always detail his face. It’s strange how this happens, I don’t know if his looks are in the cause of evil, or is he still looking up to me? After all I have done to him, he’s still not angry with me? I can hear the Boer cavalry approaching, and my claws are starting to unsheathe...

*Date unknown*

...Blood pours out my side into the mud beneath me as I write the last words of David Simmons. My head is light, and the world darkens. Marko has just crawled towards me, and has put his hand on my arm before he died. He remembered it was my birthday, or the day I was found on the streets. I am lucky I brought my journal to the battle, to die while giving my last words. I reach towards Marko’s hand and grab it with mine, this is how we die, the Alpha Lions...