Post by chase on Jan 31, 2021 9:24:39 GMT -5
Chapter 1:
"Where are you?" Jessica Blackley said to herself as she stared into the darkness that was the backyard of her home. The beautiful woman's honey blonde hair was a mess. She looked worried as she could possibly be. Tears filled her eyes.
On the table in front of her, next to steaming coffee was a picture of Chase and herself. They were in a field of sunflowers. Both looked just so damn happy to be together.
Jessica eyed that picture, remembering the good times. She remembered the times before Chases many deployments. She remembered just how full of life he was back then. He was strong willed and protective even after he'd joined the Marines. Of course that was before he'd spent so long in active war zones.
She'd been sitting in that kitchen chair for days. She hadn't gotten any real sleep in weeks. She was far too worried about him. He'd disappeared in the middle of the night after one of his episodes. She didn't know if her love was alive or dead. She feared the worst.
Friends and family came to visit often. They wanted her to move on but she couldn't. She loved Chase with all her heart.
She walked to the window and stared out of it into the night. "Where are you?" She said as more tears filled her eyes.
"Why couldn't you just get the help you needed? You weren't in this alone, Chasey." She whispered.
Her phone rang loudly. She rushed over to pick it up, thinking that it may be her husband. He'd never called before, but this could be it. She wiped the tears from her face.
"Hello?" She answered.
The voice on the other end of the line was not Chases voice. It was her mother. She'd called four times that day to check on her daughter.
"Up late again?" Jessica's mother asked softly. Jessica replied with a sigh. "What if he comes home tonight? I want to be awake." Jessica replied.
Jessica's mother understood. Jessica's father was also a military man. Her mother often stayed up late at night wondering where he was and if her husband was ok.
"This isn't healthy, Jess. I know you want to be up if he comes home, but you need to sleep. And you need to eat. I'm bringing groceries over in the morning. I know you haven't been eating regularly." Her mother told her.
"Ok. I'll try to get some sleep. See you in the morning." Jessica said. "I love you." Her mother replied as Jessica hung up the phone.
Chapter two:
To say Louisiana was hot would be an understatement. It could best be described as walking around in an enormous hot tub that just so happened to be outside in the middle of a one hundred and ten degree day. This was especially true in the swamps.
Chase was outside in this extreme heat. He hung feet first from a tree limb about fifteen feet from the ground. He was shirtless. He was either sweating profusely or the moisture in the air had accumulated in his body.
"Fifty." He said as he had just finished what was apparently his fiftieth full body sit up. One could say that this man had serious mental issues but he was very fit and in shape.
He flipped himself down, landing on his feet. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off. Even his black sweat pants were completely drenched.
"l have to hand it to you, Bane. You were tough. Probably the toughest fight I've ever had. Nothing bothered you, making things even harder. Things that would put any other man on his back, you walked straight through without flinching. You're a monster, but all monsters can be defeated. There's an old saying from Mr Mihagi in karate kid three. Lose to man. Ok. Never lose to fear. You tried. You failed."
He took a long draw.
"I should probably quit these. I guess this is just my way of shortening my time here on this Earth. Every day becomes a little harder due to the damage to the lungs. Eventually they just can't take anymore." Chase stated flatly before asking on the ground.
"So. Next up is the Strong Style Title. I'm going to be honest. I don't know what that is. I'm not exactly into championships. I'm not doing this for gold. I'm doing this not for God, but for my own well being. All I've known for years is violence. My every being was bred for the fight. My instincts catered to only destruction. So imagine my surprise when I'm discharged. Imagine trying to slide into every day life. Life without bombs, bullets, or blood. It isn't easy. This is my way of dealing with the change. It's all I know."
He took another long draw.
"I don't know much about you, Harvey. You're big. You're a showman at casinos. Great. Me? I'm a warrior. I'm a man who had raised villages. One who has gone into enemy camps undetected to take out one target and slip back out. Tell me, Harvey. Do they have that in your casinos? Do they have exploding bombs there? I'm only trying to get you to understand one simple fact. You're an entertainer. I'm sure you're good at what you do. Me? I'm a warrior...a combatant. And I'm good at what I do as well. Which one is better suited for the ring? You make that decision."
His eyes quickly glazed over and his skin went white. Moments of clarity like that have been few and far between over the past few months for Chase Blackley.
"No. You're dead." He said.
Chapter three:
James Butler was Chases best friend growing up. They were practically friends in the womb due to their mothers' friendship. They were born on the same week, only two days apart. They lived on the same block, attended the same schools. They even joined the Marines together.
James was one of Chases troops. James was also the first to die in a horrific road side bomb ambush. He was the first body that Chase carried back to base.
"James. You're…...you're dead. You died in the desert." Chase said. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. It could have simply been the intense heat and humidity of the Louisiana bayou. It wasn't, however. No. This was a bad mental state for him.
"How are you here. Why are you here?" Chase asked. A tear began to fall down his face. "I should get help?" He asked.
Chase took a deep breathe. "I am helping myself. I'm fighting again. I'm doing it because I deserve to get punched every day. It's my fault you're gone, James. I'll never forgive myself." He said as he stared at a tree.
"Don't say her name! She left me. My world. She left me." Chase said, falling to his knees. His cigarette fell to the ground.
"Go. Leave me alone. Just go." He said over and over and over again.
He laid there until the sun went down.
Chapter Four.
Anabeth Jones was a very attractive woman. She had honey blonde hair, though slightly greying, and emerald green eyes like her daughter. Anabeth had been with Jessica all day. She worried for her daughter's well being. She'd noticed the weight loss in her daughter's arms and legs. She also noticed the increasing belly bump. Though Jessica hadn't told anyone, Anabeth knew that her daughter was pregnant.
Jessica had tried to hide it from everyone, including Chase. She just couldn't bear to put something else on him, especially with the troubles he was going through.
Anabeth eyed her daughter softly as she sat the groceries down on the table. She noticed the bags under Jessica's eyes. "How did you sleep last night, dear?" Anabeth asked. Jessica shrugged her shoulders weakly. "I couldn't. I need him, mom." Jessica replied.
Anabeth sighed. "I know. He needs to be here when his son, arrives. I know it's a boy. You're carrying low." She said sweetly. Jessica didn't speak for a moment. She hadn't planned on telling anyone for some time. "How did you.." Jessica started. Anabeth laughed. "I'm your mother. And mother's always know these things." Anabeth said as she started making her daughter a ham sandwich.
When Anabeth was done, she sat a ham sandwich in front of Jessica. Mrs. Blackley inhaled the lunch. She was famished and eating for two. " Now. Please go get some rest. I'll be here all day." Anabeth said. Jessica nodded and headed to the bedroom.
Chapter five:
Chase Blackley sat beneath a giant tree. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips. A look of clarity filled his face.
"For months Jessica asked me to get help." He started. "But I couldn't. I'm a Marine. We don't feed into weakness. My issues are a weakness. We take care of things ourselves. That's why I've chosen to fight. This is my way of dealing with my mind. I know what's there and I know how to handle it. Weakness isn't something I give in to. That's what makes me dangerous, Harvey. You're a weak man mascerading as warrior. Me? I'm a warrior through and through. My heart beats that of a warrior. The blood of a warrior flows through my veins. And I'll do whatever it takes to win. You? Well you puff out your chest and try your hardest to do what comes naturally to myself. I'd say you should prepare, but you already have, yes? You're a smart man with huge plans. I'm sure you're prepared for what comes next should you win. The title shot? I'm sure you're ready. You have a plan to win. All entertainers do, yes? So let me ask you one question. What happens after I beat you lifeless? Do you dust yourself off and continue that plan? Ordinarily I'm sure you'd simply dust yourself off. But I'm no ordinary opponent. I'm a trained killer. Part of me enjoys inflicting pain on others, especially those like you. I love seeing the eyes fill up with fear once those men like yourself realize that you can't win. Quite often they off themselves beforehand. But every once in a while the coward is even too much of a coward to even do that. In those cases, I get blood on my hands. Harvey, one way or the other, your blood will be on my hands. Whether you like it or not" He added with a smile. He ashed the cigarette.
"I said before that I'm not here for titles or even winning. I'm only here to feed the beast that lurks inside of me. No. Not some unexplained actual beast like some others around here. No. I'm here to feed the beast that was created when I entered basic training. It constantly needs sustenance. Pain is the only way to feed it. Whether it be my own or someone else's. I just need battle. I just need a purpose in life. A title wouldn't give me purpose, but fighting each week would. A championship is nothing more than an object people fight for. Champions come and go. Titles change hand all the time. They're nothing. I'll fight for one if need be but my only goal is to make sure my opponent can't get up. At the end of the day, that is all that matters."
Chase ashed the cigarette. As he did, his eyes glazed over.
"Not again."
To be continued.
"Where are you?" Jessica Blackley said to herself as she stared into the darkness that was the backyard of her home. The beautiful woman's honey blonde hair was a mess. She looked worried as she could possibly be. Tears filled her eyes.
On the table in front of her, next to steaming coffee was a picture of Chase and herself. They were in a field of sunflowers. Both looked just so damn happy to be together.
Jessica eyed that picture, remembering the good times. She remembered the times before Chases many deployments. She remembered just how full of life he was back then. He was strong willed and protective even after he'd joined the Marines. Of course that was before he'd spent so long in active war zones.
She'd been sitting in that kitchen chair for days. She hadn't gotten any real sleep in weeks. She was far too worried about him. He'd disappeared in the middle of the night after one of his episodes. She didn't know if her love was alive or dead. She feared the worst.
Friends and family came to visit often. They wanted her to move on but she couldn't. She loved Chase with all her heart.
She walked to the window and stared out of it into the night. "Where are you?" She said as more tears filled her eyes.
"Why couldn't you just get the help you needed? You weren't in this alone, Chasey." She whispered.
Her phone rang loudly. She rushed over to pick it up, thinking that it may be her husband. He'd never called before, but this could be it. She wiped the tears from her face.
"Hello?" She answered.
The voice on the other end of the line was not Chases voice. It was her mother. She'd called four times that day to check on her daughter.
"Up late again?" Jessica's mother asked softly. Jessica replied with a sigh. "What if he comes home tonight? I want to be awake." Jessica replied.
Jessica's mother understood. Jessica's father was also a military man. Her mother often stayed up late at night wondering where he was and if her husband was ok.
"This isn't healthy, Jess. I know you want to be up if he comes home, but you need to sleep. And you need to eat. I'm bringing groceries over in the morning. I know you haven't been eating regularly." Her mother told her.
"Ok. I'll try to get some sleep. See you in the morning." Jessica said. "I love you." Her mother replied as Jessica hung up the phone.
Chapter two:
To say Louisiana was hot would be an understatement. It could best be described as walking around in an enormous hot tub that just so happened to be outside in the middle of a one hundred and ten degree day. This was especially true in the swamps.
Chase was outside in this extreme heat. He hung feet first from a tree limb about fifteen feet from the ground. He was shirtless. He was either sweating profusely or the moisture in the air had accumulated in his body.
"Fifty." He said as he had just finished what was apparently his fiftieth full body sit up. One could say that this man had serious mental issues but he was very fit and in shape.
He flipped himself down, landing on his feet. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off. Even his black sweat pants were completely drenched.
"l have to hand it to you, Bane. You were tough. Probably the toughest fight I've ever had. Nothing bothered you, making things even harder. Things that would put any other man on his back, you walked straight through without flinching. You're a monster, but all monsters can be defeated. There's an old saying from Mr Mihagi in karate kid three. Lose to man. Ok. Never lose to fear. You tried. You failed."
He took a long draw.
"I should probably quit these. I guess this is just my way of shortening my time here on this Earth. Every day becomes a little harder due to the damage to the lungs. Eventually they just can't take anymore." Chase stated flatly before asking on the ground.
"So. Next up is the Strong Style Title. I'm going to be honest. I don't know what that is. I'm not exactly into championships. I'm not doing this for gold. I'm doing this not for God, but for my own well being. All I've known for years is violence. My every being was bred for the fight. My instincts catered to only destruction. So imagine my surprise when I'm discharged. Imagine trying to slide into every day life. Life without bombs, bullets, or blood. It isn't easy. This is my way of dealing with the change. It's all I know."
He took another long draw.
"I don't know much about you, Harvey. You're big. You're a showman at casinos. Great. Me? I'm a warrior. I'm a man who had raised villages. One who has gone into enemy camps undetected to take out one target and slip back out. Tell me, Harvey. Do they have that in your casinos? Do they have exploding bombs there? I'm only trying to get you to understand one simple fact. You're an entertainer. I'm sure you're good at what you do. Me? I'm a warrior...a combatant. And I'm good at what I do as well. Which one is better suited for the ring? You make that decision."
His eyes quickly glazed over and his skin went white. Moments of clarity like that have been few and far between over the past few months for Chase Blackley.
"No. You're dead." He said.
Chapter three:
James Butler was Chases best friend growing up. They were practically friends in the womb due to their mothers' friendship. They were born on the same week, only two days apart. They lived on the same block, attended the same schools. They even joined the Marines together.
James was one of Chases troops. James was also the first to die in a horrific road side bomb ambush. He was the first body that Chase carried back to base.
"James. You're…...you're dead. You died in the desert." Chase said. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. It could have simply been the intense heat and humidity of the Louisiana bayou. It wasn't, however. No. This was a bad mental state for him.
"How are you here. Why are you here?" Chase asked. A tear began to fall down his face. "I should get help?" He asked.
Chase took a deep breathe. "I am helping myself. I'm fighting again. I'm doing it because I deserve to get punched every day. It's my fault you're gone, James. I'll never forgive myself." He said as he stared at a tree.
"Don't say her name! She left me. My world. She left me." Chase said, falling to his knees. His cigarette fell to the ground.
"Go. Leave me alone. Just go." He said over and over and over again.
He laid there until the sun went down.
Chapter Four.
Anabeth Jones was a very attractive woman. She had honey blonde hair, though slightly greying, and emerald green eyes like her daughter. Anabeth had been with Jessica all day. She worried for her daughter's well being. She'd noticed the weight loss in her daughter's arms and legs. She also noticed the increasing belly bump. Though Jessica hadn't told anyone, Anabeth knew that her daughter was pregnant.
Jessica had tried to hide it from everyone, including Chase. She just couldn't bear to put something else on him, especially with the troubles he was going through.
Anabeth eyed her daughter softly as she sat the groceries down on the table. She noticed the bags under Jessica's eyes. "How did you sleep last night, dear?" Anabeth asked. Jessica shrugged her shoulders weakly. "I couldn't. I need him, mom." Jessica replied.
Anabeth sighed. "I know. He needs to be here when his son, arrives. I know it's a boy. You're carrying low." She said sweetly. Jessica didn't speak for a moment. She hadn't planned on telling anyone for some time. "How did you.." Jessica started. Anabeth laughed. "I'm your mother. And mother's always know these things." Anabeth said as she started making her daughter a ham sandwich.
When Anabeth was done, she sat a ham sandwich in front of Jessica. Mrs. Blackley inhaled the lunch. She was famished and eating for two. " Now. Please go get some rest. I'll be here all day." Anabeth said. Jessica nodded and headed to the bedroom.
Chapter five:
Chase Blackley sat beneath a giant tree. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips. A look of clarity filled his face.
"For months Jessica asked me to get help." He started. "But I couldn't. I'm a Marine. We don't feed into weakness. My issues are a weakness. We take care of things ourselves. That's why I've chosen to fight. This is my way of dealing with my mind. I know what's there and I know how to handle it. Weakness isn't something I give in to. That's what makes me dangerous, Harvey. You're a weak man mascerading as warrior. Me? I'm a warrior through and through. My heart beats that of a warrior. The blood of a warrior flows through my veins. And I'll do whatever it takes to win. You? Well you puff out your chest and try your hardest to do what comes naturally to myself. I'd say you should prepare, but you already have, yes? You're a smart man with huge plans. I'm sure you're prepared for what comes next should you win. The title shot? I'm sure you're ready. You have a plan to win. All entertainers do, yes? So let me ask you one question. What happens after I beat you lifeless? Do you dust yourself off and continue that plan? Ordinarily I'm sure you'd simply dust yourself off. But I'm no ordinary opponent. I'm a trained killer. Part of me enjoys inflicting pain on others, especially those like you. I love seeing the eyes fill up with fear once those men like yourself realize that you can't win. Quite often they off themselves beforehand. But every once in a while the coward is even too much of a coward to even do that. In those cases, I get blood on my hands. Harvey, one way or the other, your blood will be on my hands. Whether you like it or not" He added with a smile. He ashed the cigarette.
"I said before that I'm not here for titles or even winning. I'm only here to feed the beast that lurks inside of me. No. Not some unexplained actual beast like some others around here. No. I'm here to feed the beast that was created when I entered basic training. It constantly needs sustenance. Pain is the only way to feed it. Whether it be my own or someone else's. I just need battle. I just need a purpose in life. A title wouldn't give me purpose, but fighting each week would. A championship is nothing more than an object people fight for. Champions come and go. Titles change hand all the time. They're nothing. I'll fight for one if need be but my only goal is to make sure my opponent can't get up. At the end of the day, that is all that matters."
Chase ashed the cigarette. As he did, his eyes glazed over.
"Not again."
To be continued.
