a death blow is a life blow to some
‘A Death blow is a Life blow to Some
Who till they died, did not alive become —
Who had they lived, had died but when
They died, Vitality begun.’
“a death blow is a life blow to some”
“I followed you.”
A teenage girl, dressed in a dark brown smock, kneeled in the mud at the edge of a field. Droplets of rain made their way like tiny rivers down her face. The robes clung to her slender frame, but she didn't seem to notice. She was focused on a mound of dirt, marked only with a makeshift crucifix - two simple sticks bound together by a single strand to twine.
“Into the darkness that night,” she sniffled, taking a moment to compose herself. Her voice cracked, but she continued on, “I followed you as far as I could. You said you had to get out - you had to be free. I didn’t know what that meant, I just knew I loved you.”
In the distance, there was the slow murmur of thunder - a threat on the horizon or a warning. Her green eyes turned back towards the compound that kept the Children of the Light. She released the breath she didn’t realize she held, turning her attention once more towards the ground.
“I heard you screaming in the dark and yet I followed. I didn’t know what any of it meant, I just knew I loved you and I would do anything...” The girl's fists clenched, her voice lowering to only a pained whisper. “When mom and dad died, you said you’d always keep me safe, no matter what. And you did. You took the pain and the suffering and turned it into a light…and so I followed you into that darkness.”
A crack of lightning forced her to pause once more. She couldn’t help but start to shiver. She was afraid of storms but not tonight - tonight she would be brave. Tonight, that storm would give the cover she would need.
“I wish I had been faster - I could have stopped them. I could have said something, I could have saved you…but I just watched. If I’d have been stronger like you, your freedom may not have came with such a price,” she wailed.
Fingernails clawed at the earth - slowly at first - before working into a fervor. Despite her best efforts, the mud and muck slipped back into place. There was another roll of thunder followed closely by a flash of light, illuminating the area around her and the mounds that made up the Potter’s Field.
Her gaze turned to the sky, eyes wild and defiant. She knew she should run - she knew she should get away before the Seekers saw that she had escaped. Sometimes pain can set you free, but often it binds you to what you should leave behind. Voice raw with grief, the girl shrieked once more. Her hands trembled and shook yet still she screamed - as though her pain itself could pass through and penetrate the grave itself.
“In death we part,” she whimpered finally, her shoulders slumping forward. Pushing herself to her feet, her head nodded resolutely towards the tree line.
“Freedom finds a way.”
“one last breath”
“When did you first know you were dead? Was it when you died?”
The scene opens up, the camera low in the sand. There are lights on the horizon: the City of Sin - a testament to the sheer determination of man. Much like the early Americans who forged their ways across the land, it sits amidst a hostile terrain, a beacon of hope, fame, and fortune for some.
For others?
Well, that’s the other side of fortune. The other side of fame. Lady Luck’s leftovers: left behind to find their own way.
A scorpion rushes across the surface, stopping as someone lightly steps across its path, followed by another whose feet drag along in their wake. It begins to burrow beneath the ground.
The camera pans out to show The Sound of Death, slowly walking her way towards the lights that shimmer along the faceplate of the New World Championship belt, cradled lovingly in her arms. The woman known only as Jane Doe shambles just behind.
“What did it feel like Donnie, to experience that moment: to rise from the grave? Those seconds spent in darkness can seem like an eternity to some, enough to sheer their sanity, but others - like you - you simply get to walk away. Unfazed and unchanged - or at least so you may say.”
The woman with the dark green eyes slows her pace, mirrored immediately by her partner. The winds whip the white cloak around her.
“In life, we get so many second chances, but in death, often we get none. Yet here you are, risen, and as is your right, returned to reclaim what was yours. Or at least what you perceive to be.” Death extends the belt in front of her, “Though if seeing is believing, you know that’s just not quite true. So somewhere inside you must ask yourself Mr. Hopkins: Is this really a second chance or simply a second step closer to the end?”
She moves the championship onto her shoulder and stops. Her eyes drift up to the skull-faced woman who has come to a restless pause beside her. Turning, she gently brushes Jane’s dark hair aside, revealing the milky white eyes.
“A man like you only has so many miles left to walk - so I wish you well on this journey - because as you’ve found, it’s just begun. One more step, one more breath, one more battle to be won just to get back to where you started. So then tell me Mr. Hopkins: when will that ‘one more chance’ finally be the last? Will it be when you walk away with this held above your head, that one final push for the power and prestige for which you came” she lifts the belt into the air. Jane’s lifeless eyes follow, watching with increased interest, “Or will it be when you get buried once more beneath the ground, finally able to fade away?”
After a moment, the champion’s grimy hands begin to reach for the belt. The Sound of Death lowers it, placing it gingerly in her arms. Her hands lingering for a moment, before she turns back to the frame.
“You’ve come a long way just to give up Mr. Hopkins, and we understand now it will take even further for you to give in. You’ve shown us all your strengths: your resilience and your resolution - after all - you’ve risen from a grave. But are you really unfazed and unchanged or did something already die within? That spark, that desire, that drive that brought you success so many times failed you once before…will it fail you once again? Is this truly the final fight of the great Donnie Hopkins or has that already happened? They say a severed head can survive up to thirty seconds - so what happens to the severed mind? Is this then really the final great awakening you wanted or simply a wake for the walking dead?”
Jane, still clutching the belt in her arms, now starts to stumble towards the city.
“Let it be this, Mr. Hopkins, and nothing more: One last step - as you walk down to that ring. One last battle - as you fight her hands, clutching at your throat. And one last breath - as you choke once again, this championship just beyond your reach. The truth is, we all started as nothing and so that’s what you’ll become - a memory and a message to the next person to walk your path. A warning - be wary of what’s to come - and nothing more.”
The New World champion starts slowly, but quickly begins to pick up her pace. Death walks close behind, her eyes still locked into the frame. “When will you know it’s over, Mr. Hopkins? Is it when it’s done?”
She turns back towards their partner, her voice becoming merely a whisper in the wind.
“One last step, one more battle, one final breath.”
The camera stays still, watching the two figures move into the distance, first with Death following, before they once again walk side-by-side.
The scene fades to black.
You ran.
You didn’t know the way, but you ran just the same.
One foot in front of the other becomes one foot closer to the grave. Their voices call after you - an invitation to return, to repent, to fall back into the fold.
But you want to be free - and so you run away.
One foot in front of the other. Keep going - you’ll find the way. The weight of the robes slow your pace, drenched from the downpour - your foot slips and you slam into the ground.
Breathe - freedom finds a way.
The closer their voices get, the less inviting they become.
Turn and look or run blindly into the dark?
You hear your name - not far away: “Jane!”
No turning back now.
Run - run and get away!
Feet slide but your toes dig in. Don’t turn back - run! A hand catches your elbow and you scream. You struggle - scratching, clawing. Another set of hands - someone takes hold of your hair. A glint of steel flashes in the dark. Your throat feels cold and wet, but why?
You scream - or try - but you can only manage a gurgle.
Trembling hands search - it’s done, but you can’t help but smile. Freedom found its way. You take one step, then another before dropping to your knees, hands falling by your sides. You made it - you’re finally free - and the only cost was your life.
Slumping to the ground, your watery gaze looks into the trees. Your spirit may be free but your body? A memory of what remains and what could never be.
“The Children of Light are for eternity.”
And the ones who run?
Simply sacrifices.
You blink - past the masked men that mull about, waiting for you to die - is something familiar. A pair of green eyes.
Watching - waiting for you to die?
Something so familiar from your past life.
“I’ll always keep you safe…” she had whispered into her sister's ear the day their parents died.
One last wet breath.
One final struggle.
And you’re free to be nothing…
And nobody.
Just another…
“Jane?”
The girl’s emerald eyes looked up from the ground first with shock, then horror. The three men who had followed her from the farm lay at her feet. Their masked faces, stained with blood from their recent battle, stared into the sky. They overcame her in a blur, blades flashing. Her head had been pulled back by her hair, and she had started to scream…
The ones who ran were simply sacrifices.
But suddenly, just as fast as they had come, they quickly fell away. They shouted - first with panic, then with fear - before their silence set in. In the scuffle, she had been swept from her feet, far beneath the fury that had found the Seekers, and which now stood above their lifeless bodies. It was a woman she once knew - though her skin, save for the fresh blood that stained her hands, was now almost white.
Their matching smocks, their matching…
Finding her way to her feet, the girl inched forward, her hand trembling as she reached out. The woman didn’t move as the girls fingers found their way into her hair, pushing it back to see. Those eyes, once vibrant and full of life - the mirror of her own - were now cold and empty.
“I’ll always keep you safe,” She remembers the words her sister had said, the day their parents passed away, “No matter what.”
There was something in it that she understood, but she didn’t have the words to say. Sometimes pain can set you free, but often it binds you to what you should leave behind. It was then she screamed once again, the sounds her sister could no longer scream - the sounds that had shook the earth and trembled past the grave.
*based on "A Death blow is a Life blow to some" by Emily Dickinson
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