Post by the whiny bitch on Jul 26, 2009 15:27:41 GMT -5
Flashbacks of the brutal Match. Chair shots. Barbed wire. Blood, Sweat and tears. Raven himself lost the match.
Raven lost that match, because he told luminous to much. Way to much. Luminous knew all about Raven. All of Ravens secrets, attached to Luminous's brain like a leach. Luminous comes out the remainder of the match, but Raven is a winner in his own eyes. He may not have pinned Luminous 1..2..3 but he inflicted pain and that is victory to Raven. He bled, another victory for Raven. Raven thinks in a sick way. Raven lives a sick life.
Luminous and Raven, Rivalry, Is cut. Luminous is no longer a boy, He is a man. In other words, He is no longer a robin, He is a Raven. For The Real Raven, He is no longer a man, He is a god. Not due to his losing streak. That doesn't mean a thing. Ravens legend, spirit will be here for ever. His name in history of ECW, and all his title reigns. Indeed Raven is a legend. But he is also a man. He kills in the name of FCW. Blood, Dead, Is his life. Sorrow will last in Raven forever as well as hardcore will be in his veins forever. But Luminous. Another trained superstar, a successful superstar trained by Raven will always be in his heart and that is nothing that happens everyday. This is a once in a lifetime for Raven. Raven will go on and keep his empty flock. But one thing did change. Ravens heart is no longer empty. Raven says good bye.
Good bye to what his life is empty. There is nothing to say good bye to. Day is night for Raven. If you look closely you can see the holes in his chest.
The camera shows Raven his back turned to the camera, the camera zooms in on his back. Blood and scars. Blood drips down his back, hitting the ground
Raven: A strong argument for the religion of Christ is this - that offences against Charity are about the only ones which men on their death-beds can be made - not to understand - but to feel - as crime. All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. Does anyone recognize this? As a child, I read books. Not just any. I was very in to Edgar Allen Poe. A man of his word. I think I am just like him, I am a man of my words. And I forget about certain things such as Luminous.
Ravens voice echoes through the dark room. Fiend. A fiend of hardcore wrestling a fiend of blood. Raven loves the feeling of blood, his cold dark red blood dripping slowly down his back, he likes the sound of blood dripping and hitting the ground.
Raven: Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant. I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.
Raven bangs the solid brick wall with his fist.
Raven: I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
I have great faith in fools; self-confidence my friends call it. I have no faith in human perfectability. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active - not more happy - nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago. I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror. In one case out of a hundred a point is excessively discussed because it is obscure; in the ninety-nine remaining it is obscure because it is excessively discussed. It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.
Raven takes a deep breath, dreaming. He only had one dream. To be a writer, as he grew up his dreams changed. He saw fighting in his house. His father beat him. His father beat his mother. His father is now nothing.
Raven: It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.
Raven lost that match, because he told luminous to much. Way to much. Luminous knew all about Raven. All of Ravens secrets, attached to Luminous's brain like a leach. Luminous comes out the remainder of the match, but Raven is a winner in his own eyes. He may not have pinned Luminous 1..2..3 but he inflicted pain and that is victory to Raven. He bled, another victory for Raven. Raven thinks in a sick way. Raven lives a sick life.
Luminous and Raven, Rivalry, Is cut. Luminous is no longer a boy, He is a man. In other words, He is no longer a robin, He is a Raven. For The Real Raven, He is no longer a man, He is a god. Not due to his losing streak. That doesn't mean a thing. Ravens legend, spirit will be here for ever. His name in history of ECW, and all his title reigns. Indeed Raven is a legend. But he is also a man. He kills in the name of FCW. Blood, Dead, Is his life. Sorrow will last in Raven forever as well as hardcore will be in his veins forever. But Luminous. Another trained superstar, a successful superstar trained by Raven will always be in his heart and that is nothing that happens everyday. This is a once in a lifetime for Raven. Raven will go on and keep his empty flock. But one thing did change. Ravens heart is no longer empty. Raven says good bye.
Good bye to what his life is empty. There is nothing to say good bye to. Day is night for Raven. If you look closely you can see the holes in his chest.
The camera shows Raven his back turned to the camera, the camera zooms in on his back. Blood and scars. Blood drips down his back, hitting the ground
Raven: A strong argument for the religion of Christ is this - that offences against Charity are about the only ones which men on their death-beds can be made - not to understand - but to feel - as crime. All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. Does anyone recognize this? As a child, I read books. Not just any. I was very in to Edgar Allen Poe. A man of his word. I think I am just like him, I am a man of my words. And I forget about certain things such as Luminous.
Ravens voice echoes through the dark room. Fiend. A fiend of hardcore wrestling a fiend of blood. Raven loves the feeling of blood, his cold dark red blood dripping slowly down his back, he likes the sound of blood dripping and hitting the ground.
Raven: Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant. I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.
Raven bangs the solid brick wall with his fist.
Raven: I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
I have great faith in fools; self-confidence my friends call it. I have no faith in human perfectability. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active - not more happy - nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago. I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror. In one case out of a hundred a point is excessively discussed because it is obscure; in the ninety-nine remaining it is obscure because it is excessively discussed. It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.
Raven takes a deep breath, dreaming. He only had one dream. To be a writer, as he grew up his dreams changed. He saw fighting in his house. His father beat him. His father beat his mother. His father is now nothing.
Raven: It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.
