The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Forces of Reality
20:27 Jun 07 2007
Times Read: 840




By Daire Lynch



“Breath, Don’t forget to breath. Always breathing”

“Keep your eyes shut.”

“Keep your mind focused.”

“Keep your eyes shut.”

“Feel the breath enter your body. Feel your mind awaken.”

Avar stuck his tongue between his teeth and concentrated, it wasn’t easy prying open his left eye just enough to be able to see his teacher while at the same time giving the outward appearance of deep mediation. It was an acquired skill, one that he had….



THONK



“I said keep your eyes shut.”



…..yet to master.



Avar winced and brought his hands to his head, a large lump was forming where Brodvar’s staff had struck him. He ground his teeth together in an effort to relieve the pain without breaking his silence only to find the tip of his tongue.



Eyes bulging, his hands shot from the top of his head to his mouth.

“Ow.”



THONK



“OW!”



Brodvar’s staff slid neatly back under the folds of his robe as he rose from the rough wooden stool he had been sitting on.



“That is enough training for today, go.”



Avar opened his mouth to protest but as Brodvar turned back to face his student he brought the folds of his robe up off the floor revealing the gnarled white oak that was the bane of the ignorant and lazy alike. It was a subtle move that he had mastered after sixty years of apprentices and traveling seekers of knowledge. Now he could silence the most rebellious of pupils with a slight rotation of his wrist, granted he was holding his staff at the time.



Avar rose from his knees and bowed,



“Tomorrow?”



Brodvar leant on his staff, the White Oak creaking against a loose floorboard. He stayed motionless for a while, as if contemplating a great question.



“Tomorrow.”



Avar smiled and bowed again before turning to leave. A breeze greeted him as he moved from the old mans shack. Only now, with the breeze in his face did he notice how warm and laden with vapour Brodvar’s shack really was. It was no wonder he had lived so long, but it was possible that if he set one foot outside of his own herbal environment he would crumble to dust. Brodvar had lived in the village for over eighty years, people would tell stories of the numerous times he was responsible for saving the village from this illness or that band of marauders. To Avar he seemed like an older version of his father, always telling him to stop dreaming and then hitting him with the nearest stick. The only reason he kept up his lessons was because of his mother, Brodvar had saved her from a fever while Avar was being born. Without Brodvar his father would be alone and the village would be left without his mothers songs. Brodvar’s teachings were still interesting but Avar wasn’t sure how long it would be before his staff would cave in his skull and he wouldn’t be able to walk let alone learn. Well his head would most likely feel better by tomorrow, in fact Avar was certain he was building up an immunity to the white oak.



How long had he watched over the village? It must be close to a hundred years. And never once in those hundred years did he find someone that was even close to becoming his successor, that was until he met young Avar. Nineteen years old and as receptive to ideas as any teacher could wish. But still, nineteen and with the mindset of a child. If he remained as stubborn as he was now it didn’t matter how talented he was, if he didn’t start to co-operate he wouldn’t survive. Brodvar had been a dedicated student, but those times were different the people knew what was waiting for them out in the shadows of reality, they knew the power of thoughts. These days the young were all like Avar, none of them wanted to hear the old stories, they thought they knew all they needed to know. All their faith was placed in their new sciences and clockworks. Brodvar looked out the plain of glass that Avar had put in earlier. He squinted through the swirls of what he guessed was melted sand at the blurred sky. It was no use, the stars were distorted and vague. Brodvar looked to the staff in his hand, he didn’t need to see the stars, he could feel their approach, a hundred years hadn’t dulled his senses enough to mask their coming. Stepping outside Brodvar looked to the sky, the trees surrounding his shack were swaying in the gentle breeze. The sound of their leaves accompanied by an ethereal whisper carried on the wind coming from the forest. Brodvar looked towards the sky. Now it was the tree branches obscuring his view of the stars. Leaning on his staff Brodvar looked at the branches, looked through the branches, looked into the branches. As the branches curled away revealing the stars Brodvar became aware of an increase in the forest whispers. The whispers were accompanied by their smell, a scathing, acrid scent that carried on the breeze. Brodvar took one last look at the stars before retreating to the masking vapors inside. As he closed the door the sound of the branches moving to cover the stars once again was accompanied by the sound of breaking glass.





Avar hopped on one foot, his other held firmly in his hands.



“Why did you break the window? It wasn’t cheap you know.”



Brodvar raised an eyebrow, his staff leaning against his shoulder.



“Would you put a price on the stars young Avar? “



Avar removed a shard of glass from the sole of his boot and threw it out the open window,



“What? What stars? I’m talking about the indigo glass, that cost me more then your whole house is worth.”



THONK



Brodvar stood, his eyes fierce, the end of his staff buried itself into the floorboards.



“So now you would put a price on my home,” ; Brodvar took a step forward.



“You would put a price on me next no doubt, at how much do you value me?”



Avar stammered, moving backwards as Brodvar advanced on him, his staff gouging a furrow in the bare wooden boards.



“You have no concept of cost and of value, you would cover the stars with glass having no understanding of what would be lost.”



As Avar stepped back again his feet caught the edge of the stool and he toppled. As he tried to lift himself to his elbows Brodvar’s staff hit him in the chest and pinned him to the ground.



“Don’t move.”



Avar became aware that although he had continued to back away Brodvar had stopped as he had passed the window, looking out towards the forest. Now he didn’t even appear to be paying attention to him, the only sign he hadn’t died on his feet was that his staff was still pinning him to the floor.



“I’m sorry, it’s just that I….”



Brodvar’s staff pressed down on his ribs harder silencing him. Brodvar still hadn’t moved, Avar didn’t even see the staff move yet he felt it force him back to the ground. In fact, now that he looked closer he could see Brodvar’s staff was not even touching him, it was hovering an inch from his chest, yet he could feel it holding him to the floor.



Avar reached out for the tip of the staff, as his fingers drew nearer he could feel them start to burn, there was no heat coming from the pressure on his chest and the oak was just as it ever was. Yet when his fingers got close it was as if the staff was not made of white oak but was a white hot metal. Avar had helped in his fathers forge and was used to working with glowing metal but the heat that came from the staff was different. It was as if he was holding a glowing coal in his hand yet when he drew away his hands felt no pain and they had no wounds. Before he could question it any further the pressure on his chest was released and he sat up. Brodvar was sitting in his usual position, staring at him intently.



“Tell me, what do you smell?”



Avar was still sore from the fall and confused as to how Brodvar could act as if nothing had happened. He was about to answer that all he could smell was the same herbs as ever but the fact he was being asked meant that there was obviously an answer Brodvar expected. Avar rose to his feet and turned his head to the window and inhaled deeply. As before there were the choking herbs and vapours but now under all that there was something new. Something that Avar had smelled before, back in the forge.



“Is that….is that iron?”



Brodvar’s beard twitched, Avar had never seen him smile but then again most people didn’t make eye contact with him long enough to take note of any of his facial features other then the fierce eyebrows and ragged beard.



“Good, Iron. But where is it coming from?”



Avar looked to the herbs hanging from the rafters then to the vials of bubbling liquids. Each one could smell like anything, but together they confused the senses even your vision was hindered by the stinging vapours. Avar studied each vial in turn before he looked to the window.



“The forest.”



Brodvar rose to his feet and pointed to a dried herb hanging from a wooden beam.



“See this herb? Know what its called?”



Avar looked at the dried and tangled mass, small colonies of mould had started to grow along the edges of the leaves.



“Red Thorn.”



Brodvar’s eyes narrowed,

“Do you know by what other names it goes by?”

Avar resisted the urge to roll his eyes, everyone knew about red thorn or as most called it flame thorns. The thorns from which the plant got its name were coated in a noxious sap that were known to cause the sufferer of even the smallest scratch to plant their hand into open flames in an effort to ease the pain.



“Flame thorns”

Brodvar nodded,

“Know where you can find it?”

“The forest?”

The forests around the village were always avoided if possible. It wasn’t just the wild animals and the risk of getting lost, nor was it the abundance of plants like the flame thorn. Plants so poisonous that to brush their leaves left you numb, itchy or scarred for life. It was the fact that many of those who were foolish enough to go in seldom came out. The few that ventured deep into the forest and managed to return came back with stories of creatures living in the forest. They were said to be half man and half beast, the stories were usually shrugged off as dementia caused by starvation or the ingestion of wild berries and mushrooms. When Avar was younger he and his friend Sporn had managed to walk half a league into the forest before loosing their nerve and returning. Of course it had been Avars idea to go into the forest. Sporn had been born a follower, born slower then the rest of the children, physically he was twice the size of the other children but he was slow. Avars father used to tell him that he had twice the muscle but only half the wits to balance it out.

Avar ducked under branches as he followed the winding path. As he walked he became increasingly aware that the sounds of the forest, usually a source of interest to him were becoming more and more subdued and instead of silence they were being replaced by a sensation that resembled sound. Not quite hearing, but the knowledge that something was there, watching him. It was as if he could hear a sound that had been hidden beneath the other sounds of the forest and then there was the smell. The same smell he had gotten in Brodvar’s shack when the old man had flattened him to the floor. Only now without Brodvar’s smoking concoctions and mixes of herbs the smell was even more potent, it caused Avars thoughts to swim and shadows to pass before his eyes, casting shapes out of the darkness. The shapes were almost that of a man, only longer and more twisted then any man could be and still remain upright. He had collected several plants of the red thorn which now hung at his side in a leather pouch. Avar had to keep placing his hand on the pouch when the scent became overpowering. A simple touch of the plants twisted branches sent a burning sensation up his arm which was enough to help him regain his focus and keep moving. He knew back in the shack there would be unguents and creams, made from things only the Gods and Brodvar knew of, that could sooth his fingers.



Just as the sun had set Avar came to a clearing in the forest. In the centre the remains of a fire were smouldering, small red tendrils of smoke curling upwards towards the stars. Avar looked around the clearing to see if the person who had lit the fire was still there. There were no foot prints leading to or coming from the fire, yet the ground in the clearing was bare and dusty. The clearing was cast in a red glow from the setting sun and the dying embers. He could see the tracks of animals dotted around the clearing, only none of the tracks ventured into the clearing. Avar scanned the tree tops surrounding the clearing for signs of archers. The men who were brave enough to hunt in the forest would spend days in the tree tops waiting for something to cross their path. It was easier to sit and wait for something to come to you then to risk getting lost in the winding trees. The last thing Avar wanted was to disturb a hide. But there were none of the signs that would indicate that the clearing was in use, other then the dieing embers. Just as he had decided the tree tops were empty he noticed the area of open sky in the centre of the clearing was free from stars. The red smoke was curling upwards and where it gathered in the centre the stars were gone. Not hidden from view by the smoke, but gone, as if they never existed. Avar started to walk towards the fire his eyes fixed on the starless sky in the centre but as he set his foot into the red dust that covered the clearing the scent he had up until now been able to bear washed over him and dropped him to his knees. He knelt, hunched in the clearing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. As he knelt he noticed that the red dust was not actually dust, he brushed it with his finger tips, it burned. It wasn’t dust, it was finely ground red thorn plant. He looked around, panicked. The red dust coated both his feet and his hands. He patted franticly at his hands to remove the burning powder but all he managed to do was to kick up clouds of the red thorn dust. He coughed as a cloud washed over him, burning his throat and causing his eyes to water. He shut his eyes against the pain, as he groped in his pouch for some loose material to tie around his nose and mouth, kicking up more burning clouds as he did so. He dug franticly through his bag trying to get to something to cover himself. His hands already burning fought through the tangles of red thorns gouging deep furrows in his hand. He withdrew his bloody hand a scrap of cloth held in his fist. He tied the cloth across his nose and mouth, his eyes clamped shut against the dust. As the pain in his arms grew the sounds he had been staining to hear became clearer and clearer. They were almost whispers, promises, prayers. Words spoken by the mind, not the mouth. They were not just the noises of the forest, they were directed at him, he was supposed to listen. He looked at his hands, blood had mingled with some of the dust from the red thorn. A thick red paste now covered half his arm. He could hear a distinct voice amid the murmuring crowds. There were no real words, it was a voice that spoke directly to his mind, bypassing his ears. It was the voice Brodvar had tried to teach him about in his first lesson, the voice of the land, the voice Avar had told Brodvar was only in his head. The old man had laughed at that, it was the only time he had heard Brodvar laugh, and now he knew why. It was in his head. But now it was in Avars head and it was telling him to run. He struggled to his feet, the knees of his trousers had burned away in the dust allowing the dust to bite at his skin. Turning to flee from the clearing Avar stumbled, his eyes obscured by the stinging dust, his mind obscured by the pain. He moved blindly forward. Shadows moving in on all sides as his vision faded. The voices, now fading back into the forest whispered one last warning to him. These were not shadows cast by light and shade, these were the shadows of Ideas, of beliefs. These shadows were not simply a dim outline of the world, these shadows were alive, they sought to cover the stars and they were dangerous. Avar closed his eyes as the shadows drew closer, the scent growing stronger and stronger. Just before his vision left him Avar looked to the stars…..Only now did he know what Brodvar had meant, how could you put a price on the heavens. He smiled as his vision left him and at the thought of Brodvar’s reactions if only he could see him agreeing with what he had said. The last star blinked in the sky and Avar sagged to the ground and then the world went dark.

Testicle Sound Express The Movie
20:16 Jun 07 2007
Times Read: 844

Side Effects …. (Working Title)

Daire Lynch



INT. MEDICAL INSTITUTION - ARTIFICIALY LIT, DIM.



Two MEDICAL ATTENDANTS are walking down a plastic tiled hallway. The tiles are a pale green and cover both the floor and walls. Above them fluorescent bulbs HUM and PLINK. They are both wearing white lab coats, one man is carrying a clipboard, both carry an extensive set of keys on their belts. CLIPBOARD MAN is talking animatedly to his companion who is unshaven and appears to be hung-over. HUNG-OVER MAN is walking a little behind the other attendant, he is slowly rubbing his eyes.

CLIPBOARD MAN

(Questioningly)

Testicles?





Hung-over man stops walking and tilts his head back staring up into the fluorescent lights.



HUNG-OVER MAN

(Matter of factly)

Testicles.





The man with the clipboard stops mid-stride and looks back at his partner.



CLIPBOARD MAN

(un-believingly)

Testicle testicles?





HUNG-OVER MAN

(matter of factly)

Testicle testicles.





The man with the clipboard walks over to a large metal door set in the wall and slides open a slit at eye level before looking in.

CUT

INT. MEDICAL INSTITUTION CELL



A man lies face down on an un-made bed, the sheets and pillow lie on the floor. His breath condenses on the plastic coating his mattress. Over his shoulder there is a large metal door set in the wall. As he lies there a metal slide is pulled open.



V.O. CLIPBOARD MAN

(even more un-believing)

What do you mean testicle, testicles. Like balls testicles?



The slide on the door is pulled closed and the man on the bed slides off the bed and onto the floor.

CUT

INT. MEDICAL INSTITUTION - ARTIFICIALY LIT, DIM.



HUNG-OVER MAN

(Slightly less matter of factly and mildly annoyed)

Balls testicles.





CLIPBOARD MAN

(Laughing)

What do you mean balls testicles?





HUNG-OVER MAN

(exasperated)

Christ David, I cant spell it out any clearer. Balls testicles.



The hung-over man buries his head in his hands and exhales loudly.







HUNG-OVER MAN

Look David, its just as it sounds, it doesn’t make sense but that’s what happened.





DAVID walks over to the next door along the corridor and again slides open a metal grate. He peers inside. He compares the information on his clipboard to that of a page tacked to the wall beside the door. He looks back into the room and writes something on his clipboard before sliding the grate closed.



DAVID

Yeah, but testicles, its just so, I don’t know, unlikely.



HUNG-OVER MAN

Unlikely? What the fuck do you mean unlikely?



DAVID

Hey man, relax. I just have a hard time believing a man who licks the patients in his spare time. If Jesus (pronounced “Hey Zeus”) said the sky was blue I’d still look out the window.



HUNG-OVER MAN

There aren’t any windows in this fucking place.



DAVID

I wasn’t being literal Steve.





STEVE reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a handful of pills which he proceeds to pop into his mouth one after another. Craning his head backwards he makes a loud swallowing noise and then grunts as he struggles to swallow them.



STEVE

Shut up David, just shut up and do the next cell.





David walks over to the cell and slides back the grate.



DAVID

He isn’t moving



STEVE

So?



DAVID

(concerned)

So! So, maybe he’s dead.



Steve rolls his eyes and walks over to the door and moves David out of the way. He peers into the cell and cranes his neck to look from side to side. He holds his hand out behind his back, making grabbing motions. David places the clipboard into his hand. Steve stands back from the door, and looks down at his clipboard, flipping from the front page to a page somewhere further back.



STEVE

Well says here he hasn’t been given anything since Tuesday, he should be awake. Maybe he IS dead.



DAVID

What? No. Is he Breathing?



STEVE

If he is he isn’t doing much else. Wait. Ok, I saw him move, he’s fine. Lets go.



DAVID

Christ, don’t do that to me. I can’t loose another one today.



STEVE

First, you didn’t loose the first one, those assholes down on 4 did. Second all we have to do is check the charts, mark their names and move on. That’s it. We don’t have to baby-sit them, just tick the sheet.





Steve grabs the handle on the doors grate and closes it violently. He then pushes the chart back into David’s hands and walks passed him onto the next door. David looks like he wants to say something in response but thinks better of it. He folds his clipboard pages open to the correct page and opens the next doors grate.

CUT POV DAIVD

A letterbox view of the cell.

A man sits quietly in the corner of the sparse cell. He sits with his hands in his lap, his head down, staring at the floor. He is wearing white non-descript clothing, his head is covered in matted and ragged hair. Although he is sitting still the fingers on his hands are moving constantly in elaborate circles, each finger moving independently of its neighbour.



PAN LEFT





Steve is walking away down the corridor obviously talking to himself and obviously annoyed.











DAVID



So I’ll just finish up here will I?

CUT

INT. MEDICAL INSTITUTION – NURSES STATION- BRIGHTLY LIT



A YOUNG NURSE is sitting behind a desk talking on a telephone. She is wearing the typical nurses outfit complete with nurses bonnet. She is leaning back in a chair, the phone pressed between her shoulder and cheek. Her feet are up on the desk and she is looking slightly downwards under the desk.



YOUNG NURSE

Jesus!



She hangs up the phone and looks down to the floor under the desk.



YOUNG NURSE

(Louder then before)

Jesus!



The woman rolls her eyes and kicks under the table. A figure that had been unseen beneath the table grunts and hit their head on the underside of the table with a loud CLUNK.



HEY-ZEUS

Christ Mandy, you hit me in the ear.





The man, who appears to be Mexican comes out from under the table holding his ear.



MANDY

Why did you need to hide from her anyway? Is it the testicle thing?



HEY- ZEUS

How do you know about what I told him about the testicles?



MANDY

Girls talk Jesus ; and Samantha had been waiting for Steve to ask her out for months. Then you tell him about the testicles and he cancels the date. How could I not hear about it. I mean, testicles…..its just so un-likely.









HEY- ZEUS

Don’t blame me, I couldn’t very well not tell him about the testicle thing, I mean shit, I didn’t want to stop him getting laid but the woman had testicles, I couldn’t not tell him.



As Hey- Zeus is massaging his ear a figure walks up behind him, as Mandy makes eye contact with the approaching figure she smirks and nods in their direction.



VO. SAMANTHA

Ahem.



Hey- Zeus turns to face the figure and as he sees who it is his face drops and he tries to smile.



HEY- ZEUS

Oh….hi Samantha, Mandy here says you were looking for…..



Before he can finish speaking Samantha kicks Hey- Zeus in between the legs.



SAMANTHA

(Angrily)

TESTICLES!!!!! You fucking screwed me over some fucking testicles. Do you have any idea of what you just did to me you fucking prick.

CUT

INT. MEDICAL INSTITUTION – BREAK ROOM- ARTIFICIALY LIT, DIM.



Steve and David are sitting at a sparse table. David is sipping at a vending machine cup of coffee and Steve is smoking a cigarette.



DAVID

Did you hear what happened to Hey-Zeus?



STEVE

Of course I heard, she did it because I canceled the date last night.



DAVID

Why did you cancel anyway? She’s a nice girl.



Steve takes his cigarette from between his teeth and grinds it into the table.



STEVE

I swear David if you don’t drop this fucking thing right now I'm going to knock your teeth down your throat.



David holds up his hands in a submissive gesture.





DAVID

Ok Steve, Ok, I’ll drop it.



Steve, sitting with both hands flat on the table looks at David.



STEVE

Ok Davey-boy. Get your coat and follow me, I'm putting an end to this once and for all.



DAVID

What?



STEVE

I said I'm going to put an end to this. Samantha is working the night shift over on the WW and I'm going to bring you to see them. And then you will see why I had to cancel the date with Sam.



Steve gets up and spins his chair across the room leaving David looking after him a questioning look on his face.

CUT

INT. MEDICAL INSTITUTION - ARTIFICIALY LIT, DIM.



David and Steve are walking down a narrow corridor. The walls are the same pale green as the opening scene. The floors are cracked black and white tile. The florescent bulbs in the ceiling HUM in a constant drone. Steve is walking ahead of David, who is looking around nervously as though fearful he is going to be caught.



DAVID

Look Steve, I don’t need to know why you skipped out on her, I mean I understand. It was the testicle thing I get it.



STEVE

No David, This ends now. I'm tired of people whispering every time me and Sam walk down the hallways. I am going to show you what Hey- Zeus was talking about.



The two men reach the end of a corridor and Steve turns to face David. Behind him a sign on the wall reads- “Women’s Wing. Authorized personnel only”

CUT

INT. MEDICAL INSTITUTION – WOMENS WING- DARK.



A door cracks open on the opposing wall. Two silhouettes squeeze through the open door and slink across the room. The lead figure motions the second figure forward and they walk slowly across the room until they get to a sealed room. The lead figure clicks on a small light. Another sign on the wall they have reached reads – “Observation Room – Subject 0003.”-



STEVE

Ok, here we are. I want you to go and sit in front of that window over there.



Steve points to a large floor to ceiling mirror set in the wall across from the two men.



STEVE

I want you to site there and don’t move. I’ll bring her in. She won’t be able to see you and you can get a good look.





David looks like he wants to question Steve but decides not to.



After a short time waiting another light flickers into life in the observation room and muffled voices start can be heard. David looks up and he can see Steve and a small woman in a patients robe. David sits up and peers into the room his hands held together resting in his lap. Steve is leading the small woman, who appears to be in her early 60’s to a table and chair in the centre of the room. As he watches, David notices that Steve is pointing to a control panel on the wall. David looks around and notices that there is a similar panel on his side of the glass. He leans over and flicks a switch, suddenly he can hear a static laden Steve talking to the woman.



STEVE

Ok now Mrs…………Cranston.



David watches as Steve reads information off a small clipboard and then places it under his arm.



STEVE

Now Mrs Cranston I understand that its late and I really appreciate you answering my questions.



MRS CRANSTON

Oh I don’t mind. I have had everything explained to me earlier today.



STEVE

Ah yes….Dr. Kennedy told me he had consulted with you already, its just that the boys down in the lab asked me to get some answers for them and from what they tell me its better we get the answers sooner rather then later.

First I’d like to determine when it was you actually noticed the problem



MRS CRANSTON

Well The doctor had given me the pill and told me to wait 15 minutes before I took it. So I kept the pill in the palm of my hand like this….



Mrs Cranston simulates placing something in the middle of her hand.



Then after the 15 minutes I went to take the pill and I noticed that my fingers were unusually sensitive. I took the pill and the doctor told me that I should notice an improvement in my arthritis within 24 hours.



STEVE

And then, that’s when you noticed the….ehm…..growth.



MRS CRANSTON

Well the next morning woke up and there they were, right on the end of my fingers.



The old woman held up her left hand and waved it back and forth in front of Steve.

CUT

INT. MEDICAL INSTITUTION – WOMENS WING- DARK.



David sits watching as Steve talks with the old woman. Then suddenly the old woman lifts her hand to show Steve her fingertips. As David watches, the old woman pokes a fleshy growth that is protruding from the ends of her fingers. As she waves her hand back and forth the protrusions wiggle. David brings his hands to his mouth and covers a gasp as he watches the old woman’s hands.



DAVID

Jesus. Testicles.