Character Assassination

A man in his mid-thirties with blue eyes and longish blond hair shakes his head awake to find himself in a dark room. The only light in the room is one shining down from above, and as the dizziness wears off, he looks down to see that unable to move his legs, arms or neck, he is strapped in a hard wooden chair. His eyes move around the room, looking for any kind of answer as to how he got there. But it is so very quiet. With no clocks and no windows to show daylight, he has no inclination as to how long he has been there or even what day it is.

He closes his eyes and tries to remember what it was that he was doing before he got to this place, moving his head side to side, trying to remember who he is exactly, but everything is still so foggy. He is convinced of one thing, that he was drugged pretty harshly. He also knows that he is still alive, so, that is something.

Time passes, and the man in the chair with eyes still squinting is muttering to himself out loud. He is praying, for that is what it is called when in a desperate situation, one squints their eyes and talks to themselves---over time, this action will cause you to become completely & utterly deranged. Many raving lunatics walk amongst this earth having done just that.

A loud bang comes from behind where the man is sitting under the light, and the sound is obviously one of a heavy metal door being opened. The man in the chair opens his eyes and sees nothing more than before, as the opening of this door did not bring any more light in. He does however hear the steps of a person walking towards the back of him. He assumes these feet to be in boots, as the clomping of the heels is a deep one, and therefore probably not the kind that dress shoes on a man or heels on a woman may create.

The door is closed behind this individual walking at a casual pace. This suggests that more people are aware of the man in the chair, as the person walking did not close the door. The walking does stop almost directly behind the man in the chair and the man hears a sound like two blades being rubbed together.

Man in the Chair: “Who are you?”

Man behind the man in the Chair: “I probably should be asking you the same question, don’t you think? Don’t be alarmed right now though, these are just Fiskars, you know the best brand of scissors on the market---and we are just gonna get rid of these ridiculous locks of yours, for starters.”

The man behind the man in the chair begins to clip off the man in the chair’s hair, very close to the scalp, so that any remnant of what he looked liked prior to the entrance of this man has been lost. The man in the chair tries to move his head around to make it more difficult, but as his neck is secured by a thick metal collar that is fastened tightly to the chair, the man bound has little success.

Man behind the man in the Chair: “There, that looks a lot better. You look a little less Aryan now. You know, if you were really going for the historical look, maybe you would have dumbed down the Fabio aesthetic, as all those tales came from an area where people with blue eyes and long flowing blond hair didn’t dominate. Just a thought, pal.”

The man behind the man in the chair then grabs the man in the chair’s ears and pulls them hard.

Man behind the man in the Chair: “So we know who it is that you want everyone to think that you are, wandering around in your robe and your sandals, slumming at people’s houses and quoting fiction, but the question is, who are you really?”

Man in the Chair: “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”

The whole while the man in the chair was saying this, he was squirming, trying to free his head from the hands gripping and tearing at his ears.

Man behind the man in the Chair: “Ah yes, you are the light of the world. Hmmm...doesn’t look very lit in this room does it? Nope, not much light in hear. Your world must not have included this place, right? Now then, are you a king?”

Man in the Chair: (still squirming and wincing with pain, as the blood begins to stream in little rivulets down the side of his head) “Yyyyessss, you say rrrrighhttly that I am a kkkking...AHHHH! Ughh!!! (beginning to tear up) I was born for this cause...Eevvvveryonnneee who hears thee truth....(breathing hard as he feels his ears being torn from his head).

Man behind the man in the Chair: “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Please, don’t stop on my account. Tell me, please elaborate for myself and this world of light that you have brought here in this room with me, just what exactly you came here to do. Please, don’t hesitate. We have all the time in the world.”

And with that, the man behind the man in the chair, rips the man in the chair’s left ear right off from the side of his head and holds it out in front of the man in the chair, so he can see it in the light. Blood is gushing everywhere. The man in the chair is screaming and breathing hard, closing his eyes and squinting.

Man behind the man in the Chair: “Squint all you want, what you have here is the beginning of the end. Now, please don’t let this little mishap cause a lack of drama here today. Get on with it! What exactly did you say you came here to do? Was it to listen to people? Have you been doin’ enough listening, or just spending all your time tramping around telling the rest of us what we should be doing? Well, no matter. It doesn’t really matter now does it? Can you still here me? (leaning over and yelling extremely loud into the man in the chair’s remaining right ear) CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

With all his might, the man in the chair shouts back at him.

Man in the Chair: “Yes! Yes! I can still hear you!”

Man behind the man in the Chair: “Alright then! Great! We are back on the same page. Well then, where did we leave off? You were about to tell me and the rest of your world in this dark room, just what your business is here. Please, enlighten us.”

Man in the Chair: “I...I...I should bear witness to the...the...”

The man behind the man in the chair kicks the man in the chair directly in the ribs with his boot. The kick is hard and deep, and the man in the chair screaming out loud and then intensely whimpering, breathing hard, with tears shooting out from his face, spits out his words quickly.

Man in the Chair: “The truth...I bear witness to it and everyone who izzzzzzzzzz...is of it...will hear my voice! Thhhhheyy willl hear mmmy voice!”

The man behind the man in the chair begins to chuckle.

Man behind the man in the Chair: “Well, I certainly hear your voice, but I’m not sure that anyone else does. After all, you and I are the only ones here in this room, and sorry to say, you aren’t in the best of positions to be saying much else than what I ask, isn’t that true?”

Man in the Chair: (eyes closed with tears beading under the lids and pouring down his cheeks, collecting in his bushy beard) “Yyyyessss...Yes...whatever you say.”

Man behind the man in the Chair: “Wow. WOW! For a man that is supposed to be all powerful, you really don’t seem to be living up to your end of the bargain right now, you know that? You know how many people have died because they read your book and marched off to war to kill and be killed in your name? You start whining because somebody ripped off one of your ears? Wow. I have to say, I’m really not that impressed.”

The man in the chair, now bleeding profusely from where his left ear used to be, has slumped his head down and his legs seem to be shaking involuntarily. The man behind the man in the chair is pacing slowly behind him.

Man behind the man in the Chair: (slapping the man in the chair’s face) “Awe, come on now. You can’t die on us yet. You have to be buried and return, etcetera, etcetera! You know the deal. You can’t just die in a chair all tied up like some Hollywood B-movie hostage!”

Man in the Chair: (completely delirious, with his head slowly slumping back down and drool pouring from the side of his mouth, the slimy liquid now mixing with the blood that is all over him) “Who...um...whoever...loves...the perish...um...judge not....ugh...ahhhhhh....the eye of the nnnnnnnnnneedle....AHHHH.”

The man behind the man in the chair stops and puts his hands on both of the shoulders of the man in the chair whose head has slumped back down again, with a puddle of blood forming next to him on the concrete floor. The man behind the man in the chair leans in to say something to the remaining ear of the man in the chair.

Man behind the man in the chair: (Not yelling or whispering, speaking in a “hospitable” tone) “You know, this isn’t even fun for me anymore.”

The man in the chair doesn’t respond, and the man behind him grabs the other ear that he just spoke into and rips it right off the man’s head. The man in the chair barely jerks his body this time. The man behind the man in the chair tosses the blood soaked right ear off into the dark and then kicks the man in the chair repeatedly in the ribs. He does it so many times that he loses count, and with each kick he feels his foot going in further, burying itself deeper, most assuredly having broke every rib in this man’s body, having punctured all the organs inside. As the last few kicks have gain no reaction from the lifeless body still strapped in the chair, the man that was kicking now kicks the chair itself, with the man in it, and the whole thing tumbles over into the pool of blood on the floor.

The only man alive in this room now pulls the string on the lamp above, turning off the light. He then walks in the pitch black darkness to the heavy metal door which he had entered in. He knocks a couple of times, and a latch is shifted on the other side. The door opens and the man leaves the room. The door is again latched behind him, closed forever.