Email your comments to me. I stared intently at the gun holstered to the hip of the security guard stationed at the enterance of the Embassy. I couldn't understand why, at this moment, it was so interesting. He noticed my glares from across the street and I dodged the eye contact. It was almost a direct hit. Scooping my head down and to the left, my feet and then body followed in the same direction. My obvious attempt to conseal my face landed hard in the eyes of the guard. He smelled something burning at that moment. It was the all too familiar scent of his frying braincells. He was perfectly dressed in uniform. Starched to the nines. It just happened to be two sizes to big. He looked like a rookie. Straight out of the academy. And not quite all there in the head. That gun's image was still floating about behind my eyes. I needed to be inside that Embassy. I felt a pull and a strain whenever I got nearer the doors. There was no way I could just hop on in there now with the suspicions weighing me down. Not with Pile guarding the door. Not to mention in this wardrobe I had neglected to change out of. .................................................damn it. I've got nothing. More when I feel like typing.
I awoke to find myself lying on the cold marble floor. I bumped my head on something hard as i tried to lift myself up off the ground. Squinting from the pain, I noticed I was in a very familiar place. Not only did the smell of burning ashes, like those that were trying to cover the smell of rotting flesh, give the location away, I realized I was lying between two oak pews rowed with Bibles. Pushing myself up from all fours onto my knees a sudden electric shiver shot down my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Images from a time well locked into memory came flooding into sight. "On my knees in front of God again". This time something was a bit off. I was over thirty, alone and covered in what could only be concluded as blood. Either I revenged the Mothers and Fathers of past alter boys by crucifying one of God's own or I'm now a priest on his period.
The bump on my head was too big and bloated to have happened at my most recent waking. The pool of blood filling the bruise was already coagulating around the edges. Too spongy for a fresh hit. Stepping into the aisle, grasping the corner of the pew for leverage with my right hand and rubbing the sore atop my head with the left, I looked the church once over. "What the hell I'm I doing in this cleric's robe?", seemed like the perfect question to have asked first. It seems, though, that it in fact should have been the last......
More on this train tomorrow. I'm losing consciousness!
Night.
2/23/10
I'm thinking there should be a flashback scene here. When the voice over ends with the question about why he's wearing the robe, he should be shot back to his young life growing up in a small, God fearing, town. I'm not sure how I want this story to flow...
- The flash takes us to his old house where his father beats him with a crucifix for doing sinful things.
- same scene only it's with his overly religious mother chanting in the bathroom, rocking back and forth on the toilet scrubbing his naked body clean of all impurities...this causes his old wounds to bleed. The connection to the now bloody clerical robe is made.
- or if I want to take it to a comical place. Yeah. Keep it funny with hidden, subtle messages to suggest hardship. Make your own assumptions on his past as you watch/read.
so, then the flash takes us to his little farm house with the family eating dinner. There is a knock at the door. It's Christian's friend. He is shaking from fright, it seemed. It was the hottest summer Alabama has had in decades, it must have been fright. Christian asks Bobby to come inside and calm down. Crossing the threshold of the small farmhouse, Bobby catches the faint twinkle of light that shot from the crusifix. He instantly puked on Christians back. "Now I've got lube for another week, thanks!" Christian laughed while shrugging his shoulders up, trying to keep the slightly cooling liquid from running down his arms. Bobby, wiping his mouth, "I'm so sorry". Through his tearing eyes Bobby could see Christians father staring through the double doors that lead to the kitchen. Christian always forgot to close doors all the way. "You need to feel it latch, and listen to the click, baby" Bobby would whisper in a hoarse tone. Why Bobby didn't just secure the door, Christian would never figure out until he was older and staring down into the six foot hole with the name Robert Pattenson on the stone. "He wanted to get caught" Christian mummbled. It could have been the only explanation. And they did get caught. Bobby felt Mr. Bourne's eyes burning through the soul of Christian everyday after that night in the barn.
- Cut to scene in barn six months earlier:
The cool breeze is blowing in from the southwest when two boys come laughing over the hill. Their conversation, like so many before it, revolved around what adventure it was that they had just survived together. They are dressed in clothing not suitable for the brisk weather, but they would never notice the nip in the air this night. Friendship was turning into something a bit more warming. On the way back through the field towards Christian's house, Bobby kept nudging his way closer to the barn that had been out of the Bourne's family commission for some time now. "What's up with you tonight, Bobby?" Christian had a way with his tone that sunk into Bobby's very excistence. "Just thought we'd hang out a bit more before I headed home." Bobby swallowed the word home hard. As they reached the barn, Bobby was rubbing the back of his neck and kicking a bit of dried up dirt. Christian's back was turned to Bobby as he poked at the peeling red paint and lifted his shirt a bit to scratch his stomach. Their skin only needed to sense the other's near it to tighten up with anticipation that would in turn relax it into submission. Their souls would forever become one after leaving the barn that night. Bobby couldn't fight his eyes from devouring the small glimpse of flesh being stroked over by Christian's slender fingers. Christian was tall and husky. He had thick black hair that almost reached his shoulders. His face was thin and his eyes were a pale green that flecked gold when the light hit them just right. Everything Bobby never knew he wanted. Christian turned slowly around, gliding his left index figer along one of the barn's planks of wood. Looking into Christian's eyes, while his back was against the splintering side of the barn, he felt something crack open in his heart. Bobby's stare could crack warm plastic and it was directed right into the center of Christian's yearnings. The two were face to face, close, and remained in eachother's eyes for about a minute. Switching from left to right and catching the bridge of the nose inbetween slow passes, Bobby moved his hand slowy to just brush up against Christian's arm. The brief and subtle motion made Christian break the connection and almost lose his balance. Bobby grabbed both sides of Christian's waist and smiled a crooked smile from the right side of his mouth. Bobby rose his stare from Christian's waist and brought his eyes back to his with a slow and deliberate intention. Christian knew at that moment that he would be in love with Bobby for the rest of his life.
The barn door swung shut with a crack. The slow stuttering of the unoiled hinges made a beat that, unconciously, Christian hummed to. Bobby took Christian's hand and pulled him over to the back of the barn. He had planned a midnight picnic for the two. This was an innocent plan before the evening progressed. They would always sneak off to a new location and Bobby would surprise Christian with something for just the two of them. Board games by the falls. Jacks on the abadoned train tracks. Christian's most memorable, before this one, of course, was when Bobby put together a model airplane collection that Christian hadn't gotten around to and hung them from the trees outside of the city limits. There was a small cave-like growth of brush and trees that Christian had loved since he was a boy. Bobby had painted the planes to sparkle in the moon light. A blanket lined the inside of their nook and made a perfect place to stare up through the gliding shimmers of light to the stars above.
---I'm not sure if I want to use this in Bourne Again: Christian or keep it as another story all together. It seems as though it is going in a direction that would be a drama rather than a comedy. I'll get back to it.
Let me know what you think.
It has been a month...
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