This is not a full story. It is thoughts for a new one presented in a somewhat different fashion. I had a story idea while up to my armpits in another. Instead of writing an outline to preserve the basics, because of all the summer blockbusters trailers I've seen lately I decided to try and do it in a movie trailer style.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
This is not a full story. It is thoughts for a new one presented in a somewhat different fashion. I had a story idea while up to my armpits in another. Instead of writing an outline to preserve the basics, because of all the summer blockbusters trailers I've seen lately I decided to try and do it in a movie trailer style. Hopefully that will help me recall the imagery better and give me something to post besides the usual, Hey everyone I had this really neat idea!
Cue: ES Posthumous 'Nara'
From Grover-who-might-one-day-get-this-written Productions
Fade into a beautiful clear blue sky with the sun shining over a sparkling clear steam. Slowly, our view pans across a park with women watching their daughters at play as butterflies flit from flower to flower.
“The Future is perfect.” The speaker is a woman whose voice holds a note of sadness.
We zoom in for a close up on one butterfly as it casts its proboscis like an angler fishing for nectar. In a flash a cruel beak crushes it as a Raven's black wings carry its mangled body into the sky.
“But the price is high.” Our narrator continues. “Gender has become a rank and Men are Kings.”
We see well-dressed men who are as handsome and powerful as Greek Gods. They are attended by women who are beautiful perhaps, but subservient. More scenes of women in all different kinds of professions from the traditional ones of mother to construction workers and police officers, but all serve Men.
A billboard celebrates equal opportunities for all.
“However, some are more equal than others.”
More pictures follow of Men in positions of authority, but not a single one of a woman.
“Not all agreed with this vision of the future.”
We see a dead man lying behind a truck with a bumper sticker that reads, “I'll give you my gun when you take it from my cold dead hands.”
A feminine hand in fingerless gloves reaches down and picks up the pistol from the body. Zooming out we see a big body builder like woman wearing military combat gear.
“That War was lost.” The voice grows sadder. “And now the last Rebel has been caught.
A man who has been worn down until nothing is left but the steel of his soul throws himself at the female troopers who are clean and strong. Machete and combat tomahawk cuts down two, but more follow and he is overwhelmed by their numbers.
Cut to a camber where men of authority are in discussion.
“Certainly, we now have full control, but it would be wise to have another distraction for the populace since the rebel bogey men are no more. Besides, Bread and Circuses are nearly a tradition.”
“True,” Another agrees. “But we don't want to this blow up in our faces either. We don't want to teach anyone how to fight us. We just finished a war after all.”
“That's why we have researchers, isn't?” The first speaker who resembles Micheal Clark Duncan waves to a thin humorless man.
“We have been experimenting on ways of preventing any kind of violence against our representatives, the Police.” The scientist who is a poster child for Josef Mengele, says, “This would allow us to test these methods as well as other protocols. It would be like evolution in action.”
“I' don't like the idea of women running around loose without a man to manage her. “ A man who let himself grow fat in spite of his perfect body disagrees.
“Then let's link our 'contestants' fate with border-line failures who are debatable real men.” The Micheal Clark Duncan look-alike states. “We take care of trouble makers in both genders, while using them as guinea-pigs and taping the whole thing as a reality show.”
“We can't lose!” The second man exclaims while they all look pleased.
“Of course not!” The first proclaims waving his cigar like a baton. “We're Men!”
We cut to our ragged rebel who is spread eagled on an examining table. He looks half starved and has many scars.
“My, aren't you the mangy mutt.” The first speaker jeers.
“I prefer to think of myself as a rat.” The restrained man rasps back. He may be captured, but his eyes say otherwise. “A stainless steel rat.”
Turning to a white coated scientist, the first speaker commands. “I want this one.”
“But the process will kill him.” The scientist objects. “This one is in far too poor condition to survive the transmutation.”
“I rather doubt that, Doctor.” The Man looks at the prisoner. “That's one tough SOB. He'll spit in the Devil's eye before giving us the pleasure of seeing him die. She'll be one hell of a bitch.”
The Scientist looks as if he'll object again when the Man holds up his hand. “Speaking of which there are some specific things I want. After all she needs to be ... photogenic. The Man's smile is not pleasant.
A montage of images follow of the rebel being injected and in terrible pain. His convulsions bow him nearly in two, but he survives.
Opening his eyes, it is over, but we hear only a feminine voice. “Aww crap.”
“All butterflies emerge from their chrysalis new and reborn,” Our narrator says.
Scenes of hand to hand combat follow. Women twisting and striking as they fight for their lives. Wild leaps and acrobatics are shown as blades flash and arrows fly. One dives from a high bridge as death follows behind her.
“All must find their wings.” The voice finds hope somewhere in that sadness.
We see a young man turning his head away from the rude jokes of his fellows. “Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed.”
The young man looks up startled as a very feminine shadow falls upon him. We see a woman's bare back as she leans forwards to kiss him. A sparkling onyx line appears on her shoulders and races across her back as their kiss builds in passion. Pulling apart there's an intricate tattoo of butterfly wings covering her back.
“Then they must fly!” Our narrator has found hope and sings.
We see the young man running for his life; a glimpse of a red headed woman locked blade to blade in a sword fight; soldiers running while armored cars support them. More scenes of our young man crying as he holds someone unseen by us, and that tattoo slowly filling with wondrous colors.
Faster flashes of him running forward his face set in stubborn determination among more pictures of that tattoo becoming full of more pigments, but it now is clear it’s filling as if with pooling blood.
The screen turns red leaving only the tattoo. Doing one of those neat 3 D pans we zoom out seeing the silhouette of a bosomy woman with a long braid running down her back, holding a sword.
Underneath reads, “Coming soon or maybe someday when I can finish up all my other projects!”
The screen gives a twitch as if changing stations revealing the crumpled butterfly we saw in the beginning that was crushed by the Raven. It trembles and then unfolds like an origami back to its original form, an untouched butterfly. Zooming in, we see its eyes are camera lenses that are focused on us! Clicking and whizzing, with mechanical sounds, the butterfly launches itself into the sky.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks.