Friday, May 27, 2011

The Scribe

This is a piece I wrote back in may, a character development piece for a screenplay I'm working on.   D'Verse is having their weekly Poetics prompt, and the topic is trying to get into the head of someone and write as if you are the actor playing that person, or are that person.  Obviously my choice is a fictional character.  And just a warning, the piece is pretty disturbing.

Someone’s always left alive,
To bear witness,
I’ve spent all my life a poet,
And today, for that, my life is spared,

To watch such violence,
As your flesh, now Picasso-like,
Composed from friendly blood,
To keep composure,
To numb,
To silence,
All the aversions,
Your mind will surely throw,
For if you survive and cannot recall
You are no use to him at all,

Hours long he keeps them tied,
And stoves suppress,

Your eyes,
Tainted forever more,
Must look away,
When they cry for you to help,
In such, confusion's solved,

They never wonder
What side you're on,
What role you play,
A role they will never understand,
In fact, I can't say that even I am so aware

When all the days have exhausted,
As all the bleach destroys stain,
Pack he does,
With myself in tow,
Locked into an unseen panel,
Of a van he will flee in,
and the darkness there is a refuge, a reprieve

No light to occupy,
No sounds to churn,
Just the noise of rocks,
Or stone-
Kicking tires,
Scraping chrome,

Then the journey shall anew,
A bantering from beyond,
I can almost see the realtor,
Smiling as he takes the hand,
He would be the first,
To have his limbs severed this day,

Into the bowels I am cast,
Bound and gagged,as
They file through,
Some dirtied, others bruised,
Rarely though are the signs acute,
From sleeping victim to begging thief,
The portrait changes over time,
Branching out as before,
Never a shortage for the well to shore,
Documenting each one of them,
A plethora of character, endless though,
As often it does seem,

Fear has left me….Numb
Desire for releasing, to be the hero...quelled

I've envisioned my closing argument,
Pleading for forgiveness, I'm A VICTIM too,
I remind the jurors of,  to whom my future relies...Alas,
but this is but fanciful imagination

Justice offers, or owes, me nothing
No day in court, no bargaining,
No sentencing, only sentences
Creative, albeit from a monstrous womb,

To pass the time,
Between each chapter,
I play a game, if pursuits of play
are even appropriate...but it binds me from implosion

He always takes a souvenir,
Where it goes I dare not guess,
But with each new face,
I survey their person, for additives to persona
And, it keeps me from asking, "How many more?"

My greatest work, how sad that sounds
Characters so real, because they are
So richly layered and with depths of shading...unprecedented

Fathers, daughters, sisters, mothers,
Lovers, partners, strangers too...
A myriad of outlines; no credence or bias toward,
To which, I must analyze the way he operates into,

I must confess, I've plagiarized
From each and the exact words,
born in that split-moment, just before finality,
Are the kinds of voice, that simply can't be reproduced fictitiously

Is there a difference? Between his mind and my own
Is there a pattern? Am I really that different
Can I hypothesize? Do I owe him a debt of gratitude---
Should I dare attempt define? Or a pox upon?
Each moment of calculation,
What every path represents
A variable, a data set,
For what I can not,
Nor, at this point, care to know-- Yes, I'm that far removed 

Just today, if the separation of day even still exists
Three men,two women Lions & lambs, both ripe for the slaughter

Each day I pray, yes pray... For a plot twist, or just any new development to siphon boredom from routine
When they are here, the innocents--which by his account, none truly ever can be, the smell of fear protrudes their it should...I'm still a realist...I still know the more than ever
Only the subtleties of accent, set them apart, hint to distances travelled, from where... It doesn't matter, but it certainly assists an accurate rendering of characterization...ever slur, twitch, tic and dialect, differentiates the countless extras needed...when this becomes film
yet agonizing pieces of morality tend to throb...."WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO?" I'd shout internally, as my other shoulder begins to tingle, "they're all the same, if not them, then...well, you"
Yes, they’re all the same to me, they're not real, simply props for my artistry, yes, that's it exactly...craftwork...where research is key

The misfortune of others has lustered my personal status, blinded me with egoism, I have a very pleased Id, yet periodically, the cancer grows, that temporary shift in mental subtext, back to a time when mental composure was everything....

Who am I-
that I should be the one to survive?  Back in my prior life, I wouldn't have been able to convince myself the answer, I would've sniveled in distortion, shedding a ballast of tears....But the man I have become, the evolution of self, well...the answer's simple...I have a gift, a gift he needs...a symbiosis... a pairing, he and I....he performs, and I document every detail, significant or trivial...that's why

His motto, his only creed,
Always leave one to breath,
Always leave one alive,
For a very long period now... that scribes been me, illustrating a masterpiece, one he seems pleased with, as am I

So hardened by the facets forced, I may have begun to feel invincible, a linchpin of indispensable importance in his scheme

Today though,
All this may have changed,
As it’s come to my attention,
The number of writers,
In this place,
Is now two.. and the voice in my head fears she's better than me...but it can't end this way, I've at least, at minimum, a paragraph left to write...  

Unchained he left me alone with her...Hatchet in plain view, Was he testing me?  Who's he talking to up stairs? Who's there with him?  

Question's of similarity flooding.  Wood feels no different than any other appendage.  Her eyes flooding, mascara drowning her dress...What have I become?  Who am I now?  and with one fell swoop, hatchet compromises bone... Never questioning..."should I try to leave?"

Frayed old man descends the stairs...He heard the screams...this I'm well aware of...Drenched red, from hair to shoe...A smile enveloped his frown, glimmering through the darkened room...

A smile that turned to a disapproving grimace, as he sees her all but whole, except for the writhing hands upon the concrete pool..."Smart...but don't feel so day, it'll be you or some other her." Sighing as he leaves....and I do as well... never questioning the scent in the air, the deafening scream, the taste of blood that's painted poetry upon my lips...Will I ever be strong enough?  Will I ever live up to expectation? day... Perhaps, one day I'll win his love

So it looks as if a sequel's in store
If I survive to pen another tale,
I may never,
Be set free again


  1. Whoa buddy. This was amazing--you have given me a view of 'writing for a living' I could never have conceived myself. A grueling, fascinating, and coruscating read, occasionally seeming to be about something a lot bigger than one serial killer and his plans, waiting for Godot in the basement with a hatchet.

  2. Hello! I'm a realtor! My worst nightmare comes to life here on the pages of this blog. There are ample urban legends spoke of in the industry, but seriously, your OTHER is my worst freaking nightmare! Fred...this is amazing! Goosebumps will linger...and I'll let you know when the nightmares end. Oh, right...I think I'm gonna quit my day job too...just sayin!

  3. a friend of mine is a retired corrections officer, and he tells us how many more suicides there are in jail than you can imagine, or than they let the public actually know...

  4. Holy batkittens! Creepy, horrifying, surprising and did I mention creepy? Seems to be going around. I'm scared to ask about the screenplay character and what else he gets himself up to. Chilling, well written, and gave me the shivers.

  5. goodness...guess i missed this one have you continued is def on the disturbing side...the seeking of approval at the end is universal in some ways which makes him relatable on that level...nice piece fred...

  6. definitely got into a crazies mind ...interesting write enjoy upon first reading but feel it's one I need to explore more ...which hails well for a story or screen play ...thanks for sharing x

  7. oh my god..think all words have just fallen from me..great write but disturbing indeed

  8. Bam! a persona piece of the quality found along with the Duke of Ferrara in My Last Duchess. The Scribe's mind's not right, either.
    Boom! I'm blown away by this piece.
    Damn! it's a God-damn good job.

  9. Hedge, thanks glad you enjoyed it, love the way you compared it, totally in the film pitch state of doing things. Love the comparison by the way, thanks

    Tash, This tale take place in the US, so I think NS realtors are safe:) Glad you enjoyed it, sorry about any nightmares lol

    Zongrik, Ok, that's some interesting information, I did not know that, thanks

    Anna, yep pretty creepy write indeed. The story doesn't really go any further than what I have here, this piece is almost a rough sketch within the character sketch. Obviously I don't have the Serial Killer himself sketched out here though. Glad you enjoyed it:)

    Brian- I have continued it, but I am sort of inflicted with writing promiscuity. I'll start something and my mind floods with ideas almost hourly it seems, thus my immensely vast collection of notebooks where I jot ideas down, so I'll start the work and then about 30-45 pages in it seems like I have a new idea that is too good to not pursue then and there. In other words I have about a couple dozen of screenplays currently in-production. I understand the problem, and I do try to work on it, it's just very difficult to work through. i've completed 5, and have 3 more done just needing editing. New ideas always throw me off course though. Yeah, when you're trying to sketch a character, especially one who's been turned as far from normalcy as this one has, it's highly recommended if not essential to try and incorporate a few things here and there, whether traits, nuances or whatever you can do to relate the character to the reader, yes the reader, because if you don't get by him or her, you'll never get a viewer. It's tough, but it's certainly fun. Glad you enjoyed the piece, thanks

    Kez, yep crazy this guy's turned indeed, his whole sense of worth, love, and belonging has completely been altered. Glad you enjoyed it thanks

    Claudia, thanks, definitely a disturbing one for sure:)

  10. What could be more challenging than writing from the pov of a serial killer? Well, writing from the pov of one of his victims, whose mind is gradually slipping further and further into a schizoid state. Brilliant contrivance making him the captive biographer first and accomplice second. I can see this as a novel, but I have a tougher time envisioning it as a film. Good Luck with that, Fred. Really unique and unexpected take on the prompt.