fate slew him, but he did not drop

‘Fate slew Him, but He did not drop --
She felled -- He did not fall --
Impaled Him on Her fiercest stakes --
He neutralized them all --’

AA‘fate slew him, but he did not drop’

'fate slew him, but he did not drop'

“What happens when the lights go out?”

The scene opens up. 

Isabelle stands inside a small hotel room in front of the bathroom door. Her hand hovers just over the handle.  She looks past her shoulder, away from the camera and into the reflection of the full-sized mirror.

“That final time when Fate becomes fatal. We would all love to free ourselves from that path, whether through medication or memories,” the Sound of Death turns toward the frame. There is a thump from behind the door. “It’s our resistance to that reality that makes us human - our hubris. We hold on - to Hope - to a future that has already begun to unfold and a legacy that still lingers, and will deny that our dreams have already been deferred.”

The knob shakes and another loud bump comes from behind the door.

“It’s destiny - the attraction and repulsion of the inevitable - and our fight against the very Fates themselves though they have already laid out our lives in their looms. We wish to weave our own way - pave our own path - but the picture we paint is never the portrait of self-perseverance we wish to portray, but simply one of pride.”

The noise becomes almost rhythmic now - thump, thump - as something, or someone, crashes against it.

“You grasp still from the grave, Mr. Hopkins but your hand has yet to find its way free. For the Fates you follow and the ones you fight are not an escape from your ending, but a blistering reminder of the reality which you have failed to see. You’ve fallen; though you fight, you can feel it inside. You are drawn to Jane, not because of what is wrapped around her waist but because of what she holds in her hands - that final and fatal grasp from which you can never flee.”

Suddenly, the noise stops. Death turns and looks it over, her eyes lingering on the handle.

“You’ve escaped the grave, but never its grip. You’ve fought the Fates, but never found your way free. And you’ve sought redemption, but once again you will fail to reclaim this…representation of what you wish you could be. Unfortunately for you, Mr. Hopkins, redemption is not an option for those who can not be redeemed.”

The blows begin again, each one now a full-forced collision - the door beginning to buckle in at the hinges; each smash brings the fresh sound of splintering wood. 

“Please do not misunderstand what I say, Mr. Hopkins. We respect you, all the same. You’ve shown the world who you are and what this means to you. It is everything, and for you and the world you gave away - it’s all that remains. A reminder of what could have been - a Hope - that you’ve hung onto, but if only you could see the scene as it’s set, you would see it is you that truly hangs.”

Finally, a single bloodied hand shoots through. It feels along the frame, searching for the other side of the handle.

“Through force and fear, you’ve threatened to unthread the needle, but you’ve only managed to tie a knot. Though you struggle, you can feel the suffocation - the strangulation - and though you may deny it your destiny remains the same. In death, you will depart.”

The lock is twisted loose and Jane staggers free. Her arm is a bloodied mess and her milk white eyes scan the scene. Her gaze lands on her sister, stopping for a brief movement before moving past her and towards the exit

“You made your mark as a monument to Man - you’ve fought -  but in the end you’ll fail. A testament of the times and a tribute to your demise.” Death watches as Jane attempts to pull open the door, only to be stopped by a small chain. She starts to jerk at it, but Isabelle steps beside her, gently closing it before sliding the bolt loose. “One final fight left to the flick of a switch - a simple gesture - such a shame.”

Jane jerks the main door open, stumbling out into the Boston night. The Sound of Death watches, before turning back towards the frame.

“What happens when the lights go out?” she asks. Her hand reaches beside her, switching the light out.

“Only Fate remains.”

She takes hold of the door, closing it behind her and the scene fades to black.

She stung Him -- sapped His firm Advance --
But when Her Worst was done
And He -- unmoved regarded Her --
Acknowledged Him a Man.