Paroxysm

[fenixx]

It didn’t come back to me all at once. It wasn’t like waking from a good night’s sleep at all. I wasn’t sure if it was just the room, but everything seemed distorted and blurry. My head was still, I think, but the room was moving. I blinked a few times, and the images sharpened. The room was still dimly lit by a fresh candle, while the waxy remains of its predecessor were stuck to the same wooden table. I tried to raise my hands to rub my eyes, but they were still handcuffed to the wooden chair. My hands slid down the back of the chair as the chains clinked and rattled. The firelight danced around the room and illuminated a vaguely familiar image. I wasn’t scared, more hung over and irritated. A hangover was bad enough, but the accompanying headache was doubled due to the fist that muddled my mind. I just wanted to leave, Ireland was supposed to be much more different.


Dixie wasn’t in the room; I couldn’t see how she could stand being in the room for longer than five minutes. I steadily began to shiver in the cold, brick room. My chains merrily jingled along to the rhythm of my involuntary twitches. A sudden flash from the candlelight illuminated the face of the man who knocked me out. His grin was still etched on his face, or maybe he was just baring his teeth. I slowly shook my head to try and clear the blur, but it just added to the rhythmic bursts of pain in my head.


“Where am I? Who are you?” I groaned, but I received a smile full of teeth.

Back in Boston...

Vincent Kennedy McMahon was beyond worried. The day had just ended and a new one was being born. He slowly ran a weary hand through his greying hair, as he gazed out into the expanses of darkness. Somewhere in that darkness was his answer, but he knew he’d have to wait for the sun to rise to even begin his search. He was making plans in his head, but they all seemed useless. He tried calling the local authorities, but they seemed sceptical. The only information he could provide was that a drunk employee was helped out of the bar by security and simply vanished, he couldn’t prove that the men had taken Mark anywhere. Right now, he wasn’t even certain if Mark had been taken hostage. The only evidence he had to support any claim was his gut, everything else seemed flimsy.


Then his phone rang.


“Hello?”


“Hello, Vince”


The words seemed to float in his ear like water circling a drain. His mind went blank, and the only noise to fill the void was the crackling of the bad phone connection. Then the static sparked thoughts of hatred and intense loathing. He could not only hear, but feel his blood pumping and pounding through his body. He instinctively clenched his free hand as the veins started to protrude from body, as if they were protesting against the restrictions of his skin. His mouth moved rapidly, but he wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t for a lack of thoughts, but more of a lack of ability to organise his thoughts. He wanted to explode through the phone. He wanted Dixie Carter to physically feel the pain he was dying to inflict, but he couldn’t punch her through the phone. It was like continuously poking a caged silverback gorilla from fifteen feet away, he was infuriated, yet helpless.


“You don’t know what to say, do you? I’m guessing you’ve figured out what I’ve done, and I’m okay with that. In fact, I’m glad that you know, because it’s probably eating you up inside. You know that you can’t do or say anything to make things better and that frustrates you, doesn’t it? You can’t even bring yourself to speak, can you? You’re pathetic, just like your company, your employees and your so-called fans. You sold out and turned the image of wrestling into a children’s sketch show, complete with superheroes and midgets. You created an empire that tarnished the prestige of an art that you inherited. But you’ve gotten complacent, haven’t you, Vince? You won a war almost ten years ago, but you haven’t been challenged since. Let me tell you something Vince, times have changed. This isn’t hand-to-hand combat anymore, this is modern warfare. You may have gone to war with Turner and WCW, but you have no idea what you are up against. And right now, I’m going to show you exactly how it feels to have your talent stolen, misused and then discarded on your doorstep. This is just the beginning, you son of a bitch.”


*Click*


Vince paused for a moment, listening attentively, but then realised that Dixie had hung up. He ripped his phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment. She hadn’t just crossed every line he knew of, she had removed the line altogether. All was fair in love and war, and the bitch just went nuclear. He roared in anguish and flung his phone at his opposing wall. The phone crashed into the wall and the case splintered from the impact. Vince stood in the middle of his empty office, heaving as if he had run a marathon. He strode over to his desk and jammed his fingers beneath the tabletop. He tensed his legs and upturned it with a primal scream. The mess from his desk transferred onto the carpet as his work phone and laptop crashed alongside it. The desk had broken under the pressure. He grasped at his hair and screamed for the world to hear. He screamed and howled until he was out of breath. He screamed so loud he didn’t hear his assistant enter his office and observe her distraught boss. She simply stood there until he had finished. His last scream died away into the emptiness of the night, as he turned around to find her waiting. She seemed calm and composed, even though she was surveying a scene of great destruction.


“Is everything alright, sir?”


“No.”


“Is there anything I can do to help, sir?”


“No, just leave me alone.”


The assistant turned her back to McMahon, hiding her smile from his eyes. They were probably too distracted to catch a glimpse of triumph, but she didn’t want him to be suspicious of her. She walked towards the door and slowly shut it. She pressed her ear to the door but could hear none of the loud banging and screams she heard moments before. She stayed like this for a moment, keeping silently still. She could hear him muttering while his soft footsteps kept a constant rhythm. She leaned away from the door and slowly walked to the restroom, with her smile still stretching from ear to ear. She closed the restroom door and took her phone from her pants’ pocket. She already had the number she required on speed dial and pressed the green button.


The phone rang.


“He’s cracking, it’s working”


*Click*

Somewhere in Ireland

“What do you want from me?”


The man just kept smiling. It was as if his grin was comically drawn in permanent marker. It stretched from ear to ear and showcased his rows of perfect teeth. It was an award-winning smile with an evil edge. The only time he had moved was to flick on a lamp on the table. He extinguished the candle afterwards, leaving the cool room feeling frightfully cold. My steady shiver had heightened to full blown shaking. I was in a world away from home with no idea how to get out. I just bided my time, and tried to control the shakes to conserve my energy. All I could do for now was wait.


And then she came.


The doorhandle turned and Dixie Carter stepped into the cold. The opened door let in a sudden burst of light, but it was extinguished when the door slammed shut. Dixie was wearing a similar smile to the man next to her, but her smile seemed to be the cruellest. I shrank into my chair as she strolled towards me. She grabbed the lamp and wrenched it towards my face, forcing a burst of light into my eyes. I squinted into the light, but couldn’t see anything past the lamp. The lamp was so close that I could feel the heat emanating from the bulb.


“Hello, Mark. I hope you’re well.”


“Bitch…”


“Now, that’s not nice at all. I was even going to ease you out of those shackles, but now I’m not sure if I want to,” Dixie said softly, pulling out a tiny, silver key. She held it in front of my face, and it seemed black against the blinding light. I let out a long, low grunt, but didn’t speak.


“That’s an improvement. Now I want to ask you a few questions, and I want a few responses. If I get some answers, you can walk out of here. If I don’t get what I want, you’ll be crawling your way out, or who knows, you might not even make it out that door. Trust me, you’ll be begging to give me answers by the time I’m done with you. Are we clear?”


I closed my eyes and nodded slowly. The bright light was a brilliantly rich shade of red through my eyelids.


“What are McMahon’s plans for you?”


“You think I know? The old man changes his mind every few days.”


She seemed a bit thrown off. I’m not sure what she was expecting me to say. Her smile slipped for the slightest of moments as she was reconsidering her next move.


“Do you feel that you’re being treated fairly by McMahon?”


I didn’t speak.


“Do you think you’re being misused?”


I clenched my fists.


“Oh, I see. You don’t have to answer the question; I can see that look in your eye. It’s the same look that every other ex-WWE employee has when they come grovelling at my doorstep. It’s the look of mistreatment and inner anguish. You know you’re better than half the people on the payroll, don’t you?”


“You have no idea what you’re talking about, you corporate bitch”


The man strolled towards him with that same grin and moved the lamp away from my face. His smile then vanished, but his teeth clenched together. His fist connected with my nose and I felt it break under the pressure. I gasped in pain as he continued his onslaught on my restrained body. He peppered my face and chest with quick and powerful blows. Every time his fist withdrew from my body, I saw my blood covering it. My face was being tenderised methodically as Dixie watched on. After about a dozen blows, she called off the man. He retreated back into the shadows, panting heavily. My head slumped forward and dripped blood onto my legs. I could taste the blood in my mouth. It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time.


“I tried being nice, but you wouldn’t cooperate. You know, it’s only going to get worse for you, Mark”


I slowly raised my head to the same level as her own. Our eyes met, but mine were blinded by a stream of blood. My hands were still separately cuffed to each arm of the wooden chair. My legs were chained to the two front legs of the chair. I wrapped the chains around my wrist and pulled hard to combat the pain from my aching face. My knuckles whitened, as I tried hard to stare straight into Dixie’s blue eyes.


“Are there many people in the locker room that share the same sentiments as you?”


“No brick wall is perfect.”


“Well, how many chips are there in this one?”


“Not enough, nowhere near enough for you to break it down. Your company is just like you: it’s a spineless little bitch that will always be pushed around. You’ll never win the war, you won’t even win a battle. It’ll be a blowout just you—"


She slapped me with ferocious anger. My head jerked to the side and I heard my neck crack. I grazed my head on the back of the wooden chair and I gripped his chains even tighter. As I wrenched my head back, I saw Dixie wiping the blood from my face on her suit pants. She was pissed, but my limits were being tested. She walked over to the man in the corner and whispered instructions in his ear. Snippets of the conversation bounced off the brick wall and it felt like I was in a room full of snakes. The man’s smile stretched, if possible, even further. Dixie walked out the door without a second glance at me. Her grip on the doorhandle left a red stain that had her palm print woven into it. The sudden burst of light accompanied her exit, but it died almost instantaneously. Now it was just the man and I alone in the room. He slowly strode towards me while reaching into his pants pocket.


“Stop,” I said, before he reached me. It wasn’t a plea or me begging, it was a clear order. He paused, and tilted his head to the side, examining me. His twisted smile became even more accentuated, and it was as if he was a sick caricature of a clown. The pressure on my knuckles was reaching breaking point. They were ghostly white and sending sharp bursts of pain to compliment the stinging sensations in my face. I twisted the chains around both hands once more and closed my eyes. I bend frying pans as a party trick; this was almost routine for me. I roared as I ripped my right hand towards the ceiling. The right arm of the wooden chair tore cleanly off its frame. The wood cracked loudly and splinters flew around the room. I roared again and ripped the left arm from the chair, littering the room with pieces of wood. I kicked both of my legs forward to free myself from the chair legs. The legs were sturdier than the arms, and it took a few forceful kicks to completely free myself from the chair. I rose from the ruined chair, as it collapsed onto its side. They didn’t call me the ‘World’s Strongest Man’ for nothing.


The man’s head was still tilted to the side, but his smile had been wiped off his face. Deep wrinkles outlined where his smile was, and he looked defeated without his trademark grin. Chunks of wood were still attached to my handcuffs, and they hung of the chains like crude nun chucks. I smiled as his hand dived into his pockets and extracted two switchblades. He smiled again, but it lacked the same confidence and swagger he had before. The click from the switchblades to trigger the protrusion of the polished metal bounced off the walls and gave the impression that the man held a dozen switchblades. He started towards me with both hands ready for attack, while I limped towards him. He raised the blade for a downwards blow, but the remnant of the chair that hung from my chain connected with it before the blade kissed my body. The switchblade went spiralling and clinked against the wall. The man was shocked and taken aback, as he instinctively slashed with the blade in his other hand, but I swung at it again. The hardened wood knocked the blade into the corner of the dimly lit room. The man was whimpering and sweating as he backed himself into a corner. I followed him, as the chains from my feet dragged along the ground. The noise from the chains built up to a crescendo and abruptly halted when the man reached the corner of the dank room.


I smiled and swung the wooden chunk at his tear-stained face. The wood broke off the chain, as splinters were embedded into the man’s face. The wooden slap ripped parts of the skin off of the man’s face, and his head bounced off the chipped brick wall. His cheekbone had pressed inwards and was clearly broken. Blood had splattered around his cheek and specks of it had flown onto the brick wall. The other side of his face was untouched and unaffected. I rummaged through the man’s pockets and found a phone and a similar silver key to the one that Dixie waved in my face. The cuffs dropped off my hands with a dull clunk onto the floor. I freed myself from the chains on my legs and then rubbed the welts where the chains had dug into me. I stayed like that for a minute or so, enjoying the sudden freedom. The man was still motionless and leaning against the wall. I pocketed the phone and freed the wooden chunks from the handcuffs that were on the floor. I cuffed the man’s hands and feet together, but after realising I still had two sets of handcuffs left, I cuffed his hands and feet together again. I placed the silver key on top of his head and limped towards the door. A gripped the stained doorhandle and pulled open the door. A sudden burst of sunlight accompanied my exit from the cruel, brick room.


Writer's Note - I made this one fairly big because I probably won't be writing another column for a few weeks. I've got mid-year exams coming up in a few weeks, so I really should be putting most of my time into that. That's also why this column took so damn long to get out too. The story will finish, just not right now. Sorry for the delay, but I'll make sure the next piece will make the wait worth it :)

[Stinger]

As a compliment to your writing, I did read the whole thing despite not being a fan of the style. Very well written and superbly descriptive. In that sense, it was great.

To be honest, whenever I read something like this I can't help but think I am back in the e-fed and reading a "promo". Just not my thing because, while very good as far as creative writing goes, I prefer columns that are more akin to editorials/opinion pieces.

[Pringle]

As you know I've really enjoyed the series. And, in my opinion, this was nothing short of sensational. Your descriptive writing is so excellently precise. You can paint the picture of the scene in my mind with minimal effort. I'm am desperately looking forward to where this story is going.

Well done, dude.

[Johnny Boomerang]

Interesting.

Firstly, i'm not a big fan of first person narrative, i find it often leads to repetition within the sentences, but that's your choice, and it was perfectly acceptable. ('it' being the use of 1st person). So you know, i'm feedbacking whilst reading, so if i say something that doesn't make sense it's because i'm back-and-forth.

Second paragraph, be careful of repetition. You used the word 'room' 3 times in quick succession. Find another word for it, or just employ a metaphor.

Oh man, this is tough because again it's my preference, but i don't think the coloured text was necessary for speech. It catches the eye and distracts when you've not got there, and the spacing AND quotation marks were enough to establish. As long as the dialogue is good enough, people shouldn't have a problem distinguishing who's talking either.

Be careful of how you relate events. I've just read a bit where you used 'And then'... so and so happened, and I just think employing the 'then this happened' technique is unnecessary. We get that the events are happening in this order, you know? Dude, again, i'm not being harsh, this is really good, but you know what they say, you only notice/talk about the negatives!

"as the veins started to protrude from body, as if they were protesting against the restrictions of his skin"

YES. I loved this.

Again bro, repetition is cropping up. if you use the same standout word twice close together, people will notice, and it feels... less interesting, so to speak. 'Phone' 'Moment' were the two that stood out. The Dixie phonecall was awesome, btw.

The back and forth between vince and his secretary (all 4 lines of it) i felt could've used expansion. Not in terms of the dialogue, but more of the descriptive. Like, Vince's first line is 'no', but it's just that. Just 'no'. I would have liked to have seen, for example:

'No!' he snapped, glaring angrily at his intruder

See just that little detail in how he replied amplifies his feelings and the distress he's just displayed in wrecking his office.

You used the descriptive 'from ear to ear' for a smile in consecutive paragraphs. Sadface.

"And then she came" Best. Paragraph. Ever.

Switchblade, Switchblade, Switchblade! Repetition is your enemy.

Nice uplifting yet ambiguous ending, definitely interested to see the next piece.

You know, i enjoyed that. The descriptive was very straight (you didn't employ much metaphor/simile/comparison usage- I do, a LOT, which is why I notice) but definitely engaging and you painted a picture that was easy to see. watch your repetition and you should be fine!

Nice work

[LimeFlavored]

I liked it. Not sure I really like the style, but I liked it. I would be willing to see more...

[ChrisBear]

Fuck man...listen to what JBoom says, he da man.

very enjoyable, its fun to see what this has become since you started. It wasnt my favourite of the series but thats because I think you used this to develop the story, which is fine. It was still superb.

Its been said already but if you name the next one penis you got my CotM vote.

Theres two aon the penis bandwaggon

[fenixx]

This new reply system is weird..

Stinger - Thanks for the feedback despite not liking the format. I kinda get where you're coming from with this being like a promo on the e-feds. I haven't read one of those promos before, but if it's like anything I'm imagining in my head, then I do see the connection. I'm not writing about what I fantasize about happening though, I'm just writing creatively to stretch boundaries and bring something different in. That being said, I do appreciate the more opinionated columns more than creative pieces, which may seem a bit hypocritical but meh. I'm not expecting people to see an implied opinion in my writing or anything concrete, I'm just writing creatively to explore. But again, thanks for the feedback, I hope i didn't sound offensive :)

Pringle - Thanks for the feedback, dude. It'll be a while before the next installment, I'm afraid, but after exams I'll be back to the usual. Cheers for the ongoing support, though :)

LimeFlavored - I like the feedback, not quite sure how to respond to it. I'll try tweaking the style for the next column, thanks for the feed though :)

Johnny Boomerang - Damn, thanks for the feedback and taking time to go through the entire column. I thought that the colour seemed a bit unnecessary, but I didn't want to always have "said <insert character>" all the time. I kinda wanted to make it obvious about who was saying what, but I do see how it can become distracting when there are a large number of characters with dialogue. You're right about the "And then..." bits too, it makes it seem like a list of events instead of a number of events occurring at once. Looking back at this too, I did repeat myself a number of times. I did try to cut it out, but I guess I did get quite lazy in my editing and I have to work on that. You're also right about expanding on those four lines of dialogue, I could've conveyed a lot more about McMahon's feelings in that instance, but wasted that opportunity. I don't usually force creative devices in my writing, but when you're studying English at school, it kinda just flows out. Your pieces are just brilliant I might add, but I don't see the point of adding creative devices for the sake of adding creative devices. I think I've got that balance right for my style of writing. Oh, and I also added the "And then she came" line just for kicks :). Thanks for the feedback though, dude, I'll take it all on board.

Chrisbear - Haha, just posted my replies to everyone and realised that you posted feedback just before me. Sorry about that, it's nothing personal :). I wanted to use this one to set up the next few parts of the story. Looking back at it, only two major events occurred. I don't want to have an overkill of events occuring, but two does seems quite small. Thanks for the feedback though, and I will take on everything he says, he's easily the best creative column writer in these forums. The title of my next column in tentatively titled 'Penis', but that may change :P

[Dr. CMV1]

A nice continuation of a creative series...

However, I must second Stinger's thoughts. I've said it many times in feedback to many others, but this column writing style really isn't what I look for. That you're able to keep me reading these is a testament to your creative writing. It's intelligent, focused, and thought provoking. I want to see where you are going to go with this story you've concocted. So, I'd like to see you complete this vision and see it to its rightful climax and ultimate conclusion.

BUT...

After you've done so, I'd like to see what you could do in a different format. Use your creativity to mold your thoughts into a thought provoking piece without the fake dialogue and contrived scenarios.

[fenixx]

Dr. CMV1 - Thanks for the feedback, firstly. Also thanks for the compliments about my creative writing ability, but I also want to prove that I'm more than just a creative writer. I love writing creatively, but I also want to try my hand at the more statistic-based columns that I used to write. I hope you'll keep reading after I finish up this series, but hopefully I can keep you reading for reasons other than my creativity. Thanks again.

[Savior4Hire]

I enjoy these. This installment was a bit longer than normal which may have made the previously mentioned repetition stand out more than I've noticed before, or it could have been my tiny ass cell phone screen. I also noticed one or two oddly worded sentences, but nothing that really drew me out of the column. I look forward to reading the next installment as well as a return to less creative works.

Catch you after your finals, good luck.