Post by Jinx on Sept 26, 2016 2:35:19 GMT
Sertraline, Citalopram, Venlafaxine, Fluoxetine...they’re supposed to make the voices go away. But what if I don’t want them to go? What if I need them? Hasn’t anyone considered that? Doesn’t anyone understand they’re still me, just different? I need them and no one is going to take them away. I haven’t hurt anyone...much.
I stand in my bathroom, the pills that Dr. Garroway gave me cupped in my hand. Tossing a quick glance at the door to make sure it’s locked, I turn my hand over, dumping them into the toilet. As I watch them disappear, a satisfied smile curves my lips. Who’s going to know? It’s just a day’s worth. If Dean counts them, I’m on schedule. As long as I maintain in front of him and that bitch doctor, I’ll be fine. Even Damon thinks Mommy’s more fun like this; he likes his Aunt Sam and Aunt Mac. So what’s the harm really? I need Sam and Mac in the ring; Sam can inflict the most pain where Mac keeps us from going too far. If you look at it like that, it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? I’m the middle ground where they’re the polar opposites. Sure, keeping those two from going at each other is a little trying but in the end it’s worth it.
Staring into the mirror, I can’t help but smile. A shot at the Diamond’s Championship, an “unbeatable” champion, and possibly the entire Diamonds roster in a ladder match. Hmm, now that sounds like fun. I thrive in ladder matches. I mean, come on, legalized weaponry and climbing to unnatural heights? How does it get much better? All it takes is enough force to move an immovable object, and I’d say the odds aren’t in Eternity’s favor. That is, if these stupid bitches can at least get on the same page long enough to weaken her. This might be the true test, seeing as how they’re all out for themselves. Not saying I’m not, just that it seems I understand strategy a little better than they do. The only problem I see is everyone putting their petty little feuds to rest just long enough to knock that painted freak off her pedestal. She thinks she’s comfortable with death? Well, let’s see how close she can get to the beginning of the death of her career. But of course, there’s no harm in pushing it in the right direction, oui?
I make my way up to the attic, where I pull out the only key to the door and unlock it. Dean and Damon are gone, so it’s the perfect time to get back to my Cajun roots. I lock the door behind me and begin to light the black candles around the room. Like I said before, a push in the right direction, meaning a good old Voodoo curse. After lighting the multitudinous candles, I wrap myself in the long, flowing black robe. Picking up the crimson amulet, I can’t help but laugh. I mean, any good practitioner knows you have to have an amulet of protection before invoking a curse, right? You can’t have it come back on you, now can you? It hangs heavy around my neck, reassuring me. Now it’s time to get down to business, the clock is ticking.
For once, the voices are quiet; they know how important concentration is right now. I’m sure they’ll chime in later. I pick up the large, clear glass jar and wipe it down with a soft, red cloth to make sure it’s clean. Can’t have any contamination, you know. I set it down on the floor in front of me and pick up the handmade poppet I got from Miss Karma in town. I inspect it closely before setting it down in order to pick up the glossy picture of Eternity. You know, the kind we use at autograph signings. With a red marker, I scrawl “Eternity” across it, making sure to flourish through the face. I don’t want my intent mistaken, understand? With a straight pin, I attach the photo to the doll. Setting it aside for the moment, I gather the rusty nails together. The sharper and more likely to do harm the better for this type of curse, I don’t just want her struck with a painful hangnail, you know. I want utter destruction, her downfall is my only goal here.
Now, I need a match to put a little “fire” to the spell. It helps with the potency, but not as much as my blood does. I pick up the silver dagger and make a slice into my palm, squeezing it to cause the blood to course down into the jar. Now, I won’t lie, that part sucks but it’s important to bind my intention. Can’t half ass it now, can I?
I keep my thoughts on Eternity, focusing on the pain and humiliation I want to release. One by one, I add the doll and photo, the rusty nails, and finally the match together in the bloody jar. I tighten the lid, but is that enough? Oh no, not for this one. I take the candle next to me and drip it’s black wax all around the lid. As it dries, I carve “Eternity”into the wax, sealing the fate of it’s owner inside. I shake the jar vigorously, taking care to mix the ingredients fully before finally hiding it in the darkest corner of the attic. Blowing the candles out one by one, I hang the robe and amulet, taking one last look at where I hid the jar before sweeping out the door.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
YouTube Channel: Bourbon Street Dream
I adjust the camera, flashing a smile as I settle back to get comfortable.
Eva Broussard: Welcome back, my faithful lovelies! Your Cajun Beauty is coming from Brooklyn, New York, just hours away from IWF’s Extreme Endurance! Now be sure you’re watching because yours truly is in the main event. Of course, I won’t be alone, although I know that for you, I’m the only one worth watching. Eternity and any number of “other” Diamonds are going to try to stop the Apex Predator from claiming what should’ve been hers from day one, the Diamond’s Championship. I know what you’re thinking: “Why did it take so long?”
I sigh heavily as my features harden and the Cajun inflection rears up.
Sam: It took dat damn long ‘cause dey afraid of what we can do. Look at der champion, Eternity, a dressed up, painted lunatic wit’ a part time record. Do ya tink dat bitch would still ‘ave de championship if she actually defended it?
I shift back to my normal tone of voice.
Eva Broussard: Now Sam, we need to also address the elephant in the room. My record. What most of you must be thinking is, “Here we go with the conspiracies again.” Well, think again. I completely own my losses. A novel concept I know, but one that’s rare around here. Normally, if someone gets beat, it’s never their fault, it’s always some outside force holding them back or someone cheated. Well, let’s be honest here, if you’re not cheating you’re not trying. But I’m getting off point. Do you really wanna know why I’ve been beaten by schlubs like Pandora and Zara? The answer is actually quite simple really; I didn’t care. What big accomplishment is it to beat upon the short bus kids? None,in my opinion. I’ve always longed for real competition, with something on the line; a reward of sorts, if you will. Now do any of you actually believe any of those women are worthy to face me? Non, they’re not. I’ve given them the greatest gift I could; I padded their record. Now putting a championship within my grasp….that’s like putting blood in the water for a shark like me. It gets my adrenaline going. The reason I do what I do is not some padded record over some mental midgets, it’s the gold and always has been. And who can argue that Eternity isn’t the big fish around here? Well, me of course, who else? She’s never faced me, THAT’S why she’ still champion.
Again, my features change, this time going softer as my voice lightens up.
Mac: Now I’m not discrediting her talent by any means. Obviously, she’s done something right, ya know? It’s just, well, she’s never had the odds stacked so heavily against her. Ya could almost make the argument that she’s pissed off the front office somehow.
Returning to my normal intonation, I address the camera.
Eva Broussard: Personally, I don’t give a tinker’s damn about her odds. The more Diamonds that actually show up, the better. Because for once, we have the same goal. We all want that title. Now listen up ladies, if we’re going to succeed, we HAVE to work together...up to a point. I’m not saying we all hold hands afterwards singing Kumbaya or anything. You all know how much you disgust me but sometimes this business calls for some strange bedfellows. A concept that most of you are intimately familiar with, I know. But here’s the deal, if you all are happy living in the shadow of a part time champion, then just stay home. Let the big girls play. It is a ladder match after all, something I’m sure 90% of you have never even dreamed off. But yours truly has and believe me when I say, the bloodier the better. By the end, if you’re not bleeding, then you didn’t try. Now, Eternity, I want to read something that I feel is pretty apropo.
I open the tome of Edgar Allen Poe poems, flipping quickly to “The Raven”.
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if within distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting-
“Get thee back into the tempest and the NIght’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!
Looking back at the camera, I smile sadistically.
Eva Broussard: Eternity, have you felt that presence following you? That prophet, is me. And I’m telling you now, tonight is your last night as champion. Nevermore will you have to carry the weight of that gold over your shoulder. Nevermore will you be burdened with carrying this division. Your time is up, sweetheart. My time is now...quoth the Apex Predator, “Nevermore.”
I stand in my bathroom, the pills that Dr. Garroway gave me cupped in my hand. Tossing a quick glance at the door to make sure it’s locked, I turn my hand over, dumping them into the toilet. As I watch them disappear, a satisfied smile curves my lips. Who’s going to know? It’s just a day’s worth. If Dean counts them, I’m on schedule. As long as I maintain in front of him and that bitch doctor, I’ll be fine. Even Damon thinks Mommy’s more fun like this; he likes his Aunt Sam and Aunt Mac. So what’s the harm really? I need Sam and Mac in the ring; Sam can inflict the most pain where Mac keeps us from going too far. If you look at it like that, it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? I’m the middle ground where they’re the polar opposites. Sure, keeping those two from going at each other is a little trying but in the end it’s worth it.
Staring into the mirror, I can’t help but smile. A shot at the Diamond’s Championship, an “unbeatable” champion, and possibly the entire Diamonds roster in a ladder match. Hmm, now that sounds like fun. I thrive in ladder matches. I mean, come on, legalized weaponry and climbing to unnatural heights? How does it get much better? All it takes is enough force to move an immovable object, and I’d say the odds aren’t in Eternity’s favor. That is, if these stupid bitches can at least get on the same page long enough to weaken her. This might be the true test, seeing as how they’re all out for themselves. Not saying I’m not, just that it seems I understand strategy a little better than they do. The only problem I see is everyone putting their petty little feuds to rest just long enough to knock that painted freak off her pedestal. She thinks she’s comfortable with death? Well, let’s see how close she can get to the beginning of the death of her career. But of course, there’s no harm in pushing it in the right direction, oui?
I make my way up to the attic, where I pull out the only key to the door and unlock it. Dean and Damon are gone, so it’s the perfect time to get back to my Cajun roots. I lock the door behind me and begin to light the black candles around the room. Like I said before, a push in the right direction, meaning a good old Voodoo curse. After lighting the multitudinous candles, I wrap myself in the long, flowing black robe. Picking up the crimson amulet, I can’t help but laugh. I mean, any good practitioner knows you have to have an amulet of protection before invoking a curse, right? You can’t have it come back on you, now can you? It hangs heavy around my neck, reassuring me. Now it’s time to get down to business, the clock is ticking.
For once, the voices are quiet; they know how important concentration is right now. I’m sure they’ll chime in later. I pick up the large, clear glass jar and wipe it down with a soft, red cloth to make sure it’s clean. Can’t have any contamination, you know. I set it down on the floor in front of me and pick up the handmade poppet I got from Miss Karma in town. I inspect it closely before setting it down in order to pick up the glossy picture of Eternity. You know, the kind we use at autograph signings. With a red marker, I scrawl “Eternity” across it, making sure to flourish through the face. I don’t want my intent mistaken, understand? With a straight pin, I attach the photo to the doll. Setting it aside for the moment, I gather the rusty nails together. The sharper and more likely to do harm the better for this type of curse, I don’t just want her struck with a painful hangnail, you know. I want utter destruction, her downfall is my only goal here.
Now, I need a match to put a little “fire” to the spell. It helps with the potency, but not as much as my blood does. I pick up the silver dagger and make a slice into my palm, squeezing it to cause the blood to course down into the jar. Now, I won’t lie, that part sucks but it’s important to bind my intention. Can’t half ass it now, can I?
I keep my thoughts on Eternity, focusing on the pain and humiliation I want to release. One by one, I add the doll and photo, the rusty nails, and finally the match together in the bloody jar. I tighten the lid, but is that enough? Oh no, not for this one. I take the candle next to me and drip it’s black wax all around the lid. As it dries, I carve “Eternity”into the wax, sealing the fate of it’s owner inside. I shake the jar vigorously, taking care to mix the ingredients fully before finally hiding it in the darkest corner of the attic. Blowing the candles out one by one, I hang the robe and amulet, taking one last look at where I hid the jar before sweeping out the door.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
YouTube Channel: Bourbon Street Dream
I adjust the camera, flashing a smile as I settle back to get comfortable.
Eva Broussard: Welcome back, my faithful lovelies! Your Cajun Beauty is coming from Brooklyn, New York, just hours away from IWF’s Extreme Endurance! Now be sure you’re watching because yours truly is in the main event. Of course, I won’t be alone, although I know that for you, I’m the only one worth watching. Eternity and any number of “other” Diamonds are going to try to stop the Apex Predator from claiming what should’ve been hers from day one, the Diamond’s Championship. I know what you’re thinking: “Why did it take so long?”
I sigh heavily as my features harden and the Cajun inflection rears up.
Sam: It took dat damn long ‘cause dey afraid of what we can do. Look at der champion, Eternity, a dressed up, painted lunatic wit’ a part time record. Do ya tink dat bitch would still ‘ave de championship if she actually defended it?
I shift back to my normal tone of voice.
Eva Broussard: Now Sam, we need to also address the elephant in the room. My record. What most of you must be thinking is, “Here we go with the conspiracies again.” Well, think again. I completely own my losses. A novel concept I know, but one that’s rare around here. Normally, if someone gets beat, it’s never their fault, it’s always some outside force holding them back or someone cheated. Well, let’s be honest here, if you’re not cheating you’re not trying. But I’m getting off point. Do you really wanna know why I’ve been beaten by schlubs like Pandora and Zara? The answer is actually quite simple really; I didn’t care. What big accomplishment is it to beat upon the short bus kids? None,in my opinion. I’ve always longed for real competition, with something on the line; a reward of sorts, if you will. Now do any of you actually believe any of those women are worthy to face me? Non, they’re not. I’ve given them the greatest gift I could; I padded their record. Now putting a championship within my grasp….that’s like putting blood in the water for a shark like me. It gets my adrenaline going. The reason I do what I do is not some padded record over some mental midgets, it’s the gold and always has been. And who can argue that Eternity isn’t the big fish around here? Well, me of course, who else? She’s never faced me, THAT’S why she’ still champion.
Again, my features change, this time going softer as my voice lightens up.
Mac: Now I’m not discrediting her talent by any means. Obviously, she’s done something right, ya know? It’s just, well, she’s never had the odds stacked so heavily against her. Ya could almost make the argument that she’s pissed off the front office somehow.
Returning to my normal intonation, I address the camera.
Eva Broussard: Personally, I don’t give a tinker’s damn about her odds. The more Diamonds that actually show up, the better. Because for once, we have the same goal. We all want that title. Now listen up ladies, if we’re going to succeed, we HAVE to work together...up to a point. I’m not saying we all hold hands afterwards singing Kumbaya or anything. You all know how much you disgust me but sometimes this business calls for some strange bedfellows. A concept that most of you are intimately familiar with, I know. But here’s the deal, if you all are happy living in the shadow of a part time champion, then just stay home. Let the big girls play. It is a ladder match after all, something I’m sure 90% of you have never even dreamed off. But yours truly has and believe me when I say, the bloodier the better. By the end, if you’re not bleeding, then you didn’t try. Now, Eternity, I want to read something that I feel is pretty apropo.
I open the tome of Edgar Allen Poe poems, flipping quickly to “The Raven”.
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if within distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting-
“Get thee back into the tempest and the NIght’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!
Looking back at the camera, I smile sadistically.
Eva Broussard: Eternity, have you felt that presence following you? That prophet, is me. And I’m telling you now, tonight is your last night as champion. Nevermore will you have to carry the weight of that gold over your shoulder. Nevermore will you be burdened with carrying this division. Your time is up, sweetheart. My time is now...quoth the Apex Predator, “Nevermore.”
Well howdy there pardner.