Post by Deleted on Sept 7, 2014 11:40:08 GMT -5
Narrator: You are about to enter another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone!
Floating eye ball, lone standing door, Salvador Dali painting, another Salvador Dali painting, Disembodied Alex Richard Head, Yet another Salvador Dali painting, approaching title card: "Twilight Zone" ~Dun-dun-dunala!~
Narrator: Today's story is one that procures less on vision and more on the realm of Speech. Four virtually unknown wake up to find them selves trapped in a box where they cannot see or feel but only talk. They will have to rely on complete strangers who they cannot see or touch if they want to exit this sort of pocket universe. They will find that they have more in common than they would think, including a common predator. In red is a former criminal and all-around violator of peace and order who is as materialistic as he is dumb. In blue is a journalist who has fallen into a string of bad luck and can't seem to get back on his feet. I guess this is just one moment in a long trail of unfortunate events. In the orange is a rather quiet man who usually keeps to himself and let others talk for him but today he will find the only weapon he has is to speak. In the light blue...well, we'll get to him. These four men are stuck in a whirlwind of confusion as only one of their five senses still exist with no clues as to what might have put them there or why. They will have to battle their emptiness and their characteristics if they wish to escape...The Twilight Zone!
"This part won't do at all! Ugh, I can't seem to write anything I am happy with!...Wait, what about that one I never finished. I could use some of that. Maybe that'll help."
Highlight:
Delete! Copy-Paste!
"Hmmm...there has to be more I can do with this...Doesn't feel like enough yet...maybe if I add another character..."
"Hmmm...this is getting rather slow, I think I should put a little tragedy in here to give it more dynamic...yeah, that should do the trick"
"This isn't any good! I am just gonna have to start from scratch...What the hell was I think? C'mon, I am better than that."
Highlight:
Delete!
"No...no...no, someone help..."
A friendly hand shakes our hero/victim awake as he laid passed out on the couch.
"Hey dude, wake up. Are you alright?"
"What...what was...?"
The hero opens his eyes and looks around to see himself in a living room with his friend standing over him.
"Sorry about that, I know you were waiting on me to give you a ride to the airport but I thought I hit a stride in my writing but I just ended up deleting the whole thing. We can go now."
"Oh shit my match! We need to split, don't want to miss my flight"
They raced out of the house and hopped in the car before speeding off into the distance. Our impartial narrator appears out of nowhere in a slick black suit and a cigarette in hand.
Narrator: The power of the mind...a power that is constantly flexed in our dreams. A power that is just as easily flexed when typing away at the computer or writing in a notebook.
The Narrator took a drag from the cigarette before exhaling a small puff of smoke.
Narrator: As Mr. Red races off to catch his flight, his nightmare becomes but a fading memory...The nightmare of being a written character...What is Mr. Red really? He is a wrestler heading to a four-way match up where he will face, as you might have guessed, a journalist, a quiet fighter who carries a big stick, and a champion. They were all wrestlers...well, sort of...They are parodies of others. What Mr. Red doesn't realize is that he is still just a written character like...like we all are. Could we ever know if we are truly are just characters in a book, a magazine or on a forum post?...Maybe only time will tell. But in the mean time, Mr. Red will go to his match like he is written to and do all the moves he is meant to and maybe he will win if the author behind it is feeling giving. They will all step into a new square prison and have to fight to make it out alive without fully realizing it is what they are doing. The journalist might be able to get the upper hand at one point, maybe the criminal will be able to turn the tables, maybe the man of few words and his loud mouth manager will pull the rug out from under everyone's feet or maybe the nightmare will ring true and the champion will ultimately retain. It is no matter to the big writer in the sky what happens as long as it does happen. The moment will forever be written down in the archives for all to see if they wish to venture upon it and maybe after reading it and thinking on it for a moment, they will turn up to the sky and wonder if they are too just written words on a screen or page but if they do so, it will be because the writer demands it because he demands attention not only from the people but from his work. But the fun part about being the writer is that you can make up the rules...
"Hmmm...Narrator seems like too much of a generic title...lets see..."
Highlight:
Narrator
Delete...Type:
John Gable
John Gable: Here in the Twilight Zone...
Gable winked before walking off into the distance as the music for the credits began to play.
(~Dododo-dodododo-dodododo-dodododo~)
Floating eye ball, lone standing door, Salvador Dali painting, another Salvador Dali painting, Disembodied Alex Richard Head, Yet another Salvador Dali painting, approaching title card: "Twilight Zone" ~Dun-dun-dunala!~
Where are we? I can't see anything! | Why is everything black? How come I can't get out? |
Please wake up now, please wake up now, please wake up now! | Hut Sut Rawlson on the rillerah and a brawla brawla sooit... |
Narrator: Today's story is one that procures less on vision and more on the realm of Speech. Four virtually unknown wake up to find them selves trapped in a box where they cannot see or feel but only talk. They will have to rely on complete strangers who they cannot see or touch if they want to exit this sort of pocket universe. They will find that they have more in common than they would think, including a common predator. In red is a former criminal and all-around violator of peace and order who is as materialistic as he is dumb. In blue is a journalist who has fallen into a string of bad luck and can't seem to get back on his feet. I guess this is just one moment in a long trail of unfortunate events. In the orange is a rather quiet man who usually keeps to himself and let others talk for him but today he will find the only weapon he has is to speak. In the light blue...well, we'll get to him. These four men are stuck in a whirlwind of confusion as only one of their five senses still exist with no clues as to what might have put them there or why. They will have to battle their emptiness and their characteristics if they wish to escape...The Twilight Zone!
What was that? Hey! Anyone else there?!? | Where are you? I can't see anything! |
Just a bad dream, just a bad dream, just a bad dream! | Shhhh...it will all be over soon Mr. Blue |
"This part won't do at all! Ugh, I can't seem to write anything I am happy with!...Wait, what about that one I never finished. I could use some of that. Maybe that'll help."
Highlight:
What?! What did you say?! Someone get me out of here! I want to go home! |
Who are you and where are we!? I was in the middle of admiring my gold-chains and up on selling some serious merch when I lost consciousness and woke up here! | I don't know where we are but I'm Mr. Orange. I just woke up here. As far as I can tell, it is probably a cell or something but what I am more concerned with is who put us here and what they have planned...Did you hear that? |
Hut Sut Rawlson on the rillerah! Add a little Brawla Brawla to it! | Hut Sut Rawlson on the rillerah! Add a little Brawla Brawla to it! |
I didn't hear anything. Anyways, I'm Mr. Red. How do we get out of this hell hole? I got shit I need to and I am really not digging being locked up for the weekend again! I didn't even do anything to cause it this time! | I don't think this is a jail cell. I can't even feel my body or anything. Maybe this is an area out of space time where matter doesn't exist...How could something like this happen? |
All the world's a stage! | And we have to burn it down! |
"Hmmm...there has to be more I can do with this...Doesn't feel like enough yet...maybe if I add another character..."
Wow, are you a scientist or something? | No, I read in a story in an old Playboy I bought yesterday and thought it sounded cool... |
Albert Einstein said that time is irrelevant. | That it is relative to the expansion of the universe and what we perceive as time and space are really just the same thing. |
But it doesn't matter because it's not going to save you from what happens next! |
Okay, I am sick of this Outter Limits bullshit! I want someone with some answers or things are going to get violent! | Okay, I definitely heard something that time! Who else is here?! Please tell us, we need to find a way out! |
HAHAHA, He thinks it's the Outer Limits! HAHAHAHA! | Oh you will be out soon enough... |
But I don't think you'll like where you're going! |
"Hmmm...this is getting rather slow, I think I should put a little tragedy in here to give it more dynamic...yeah, that should do the trick"
What the hell is going on!? Hey! Hey! Why won't anyone give us any answers?! | Why is it suddenly so hot? Oh shit! I feel like I am on fire! I am burning up! What is happening! Someone help me please!!! |
When in Rome... | Burn it to the ground! |
And I'll dance like Nero as I play my fiddle! |
Are you there Mr. Orange?! Mr. Orange, Answer me!!! | Where did Mr. Orange go? Could he be lost in the show? |
Maybe he was burnt up ashy-white, like dirty snow... | Or maybe, just maybe, we'll never know! |
Stay away from me you freaks, before I stab each and every one of you! | Stab us with what? |
I don't think he is quite getting the concept yet... | They never do. But I can't blame them, it is a hard concept to grasp! |
What the hell are you freaks talking about?! | Don't you see what is so obvious to everyone else? |
You don't exist...well not on an objective level anyway. | You are just a creation of the mind, a figment of the imagination! |
Errrrrm...I mean it! Back off or you are gonna get cut! | A delivers entertainment to the world. |
He creates for the sake of the leisure of others! | He is meant to deliver new ideas on old mis-perceptions! |
"This isn't any good! I am just gonna have to start from scratch...What the hell was I think? C'mon, I am better than that."
Highlight:
Wait! What is going on!? | The end is nigh! |
The end is nigh! | The end is nigh! HAHAHAHAHA! Hut Sut Rawlson on the rillerah and a little Brawla Brawla sooit! |
Somebody save me! Please! NOOOOOOO! | Hut Sut Rawlson on the rillerah, add a little Brawla Brawla to it! |
Hut Sut Rawlson on the rillerah, add a little Brawla Brawla to it! | Hut Sut Rawlson on the rillerah, add a little Brawla Brawla to it! |
"No...no...no, someone help..."
A friendly hand shakes our hero/victim awake as he laid passed out on the couch.
"Hey dude, wake up. Are you alright?"
"What...what was...?"
The hero opens his eyes and looks around to see himself in a living room with his friend standing over him.
"Sorry about that, I know you were waiting on me to give you a ride to the airport but I thought I hit a stride in my writing but I just ended up deleting the whole thing. We can go now."
"Oh shit my match! We need to split, don't want to miss my flight"
They raced out of the house and hopped in the car before speeding off into the distance. Our impartial narrator appears out of nowhere in a slick black suit and a cigarette in hand.
Narrator: The power of the mind...a power that is constantly flexed in our dreams. A power that is just as easily flexed when typing away at the computer or writing in a notebook.
The Narrator took a drag from the cigarette before exhaling a small puff of smoke.
Narrator: As Mr. Red races off to catch his flight, his nightmare becomes but a fading memory...The nightmare of being a written character...What is Mr. Red really? He is a wrestler heading to a four-way match up where he will face, as you might have guessed, a journalist, a quiet fighter who carries a big stick, and a champion. They were all wrestlers...well, sort of...They are parodies of others. What Mr. Red doesn't realize is that he is still just a written character like...like we all are. Could we ever know if we are truly are just characters in a book, a magazine or on a forum post?...Maybe only time will tell. But in the mean time, Mr. Red will go to his match like he is written to and do all the moves he is meant to and maybe he will win if the author behind it is feeling giving. They will all step into a new square prison and have to fight to make it out alive without fully realizing it is what they are doing. The journalist might be able to get the upper hand at one point, maybe the criminal will be able to turn the tables, maybe the man of few words and his loud mouth manager will pull the rug out from under everyone's feet or maybe the nightmare will ring true and the champion will ultimately retain. It is no matter to the big writer in the sky what happens as long as it does happen. The moment will forever be written down in the archives for all to see if they wish to venture upon it and maybe after reading it and thinking on it for a moment, they will turn up to the sky and wonder if they are too just written words on a screen or page but if they do so, it will be because the writer demands it because he demands attention not only from the people but from his work. But the fun part about being the writer is that you can make up the rules...
"Hmmm...Narrator seems like too much of a generic title...lets see..."
Highlight:
Narrator
Delete...Type:
John Gable
John Gable: Here in the Twilight Zone...
Gable winked before walking off into the distance as the music for the credits began to play.
(~Dododo-dodododo-dodododo-dodododo~)