In the heart of darkness.
My dearest friend don't go
My dearest friend don't go
She was gone. They had taken her.
He had lead them back through the wilderness, past the wall into dangers unknown--beasts, monsters of every size, every shape. They had all died. He was the only one who remained.
Why does Marlow keep going up the river?
Don't go to war
Don't choose to go
Why doesn't he turn back?
Stealthily, Jack navigated his way through the jungle, hazy sunlight encasing the trees' twisted branches. Foreign noises, beastly noises, trickle through both channels. Jack traversed on, knowing the fulfillment of his mission lay ahead in the heart of darkness.
There's a part of him that wants to, Jimmy. A part deep inside himself that sends a warning.
You will not win down the the cursed path of war
But there's another part that needs to know. To defeat the thing that makes him afraid.
The deeper he entered the jungle, the louder the sound, his breathing, became, until they were one in the same--the shrieking of the birds, the growling of the beasts at bay, the breathing of man. He became one with the jungle, slithering through the path like a snake, looking for prey.
Looking for her. His prize. His game.
Satine.
It's not an adventure story, is it, Mr. Hayes?
No, Jimmy. It's not.
This is the future of an illusion
He found her laying peacefully on a cliff, the moonlight's glow upon her skin and hair. He crouched over her, watching. Waiting.
She opened her eyes slowly. Saw him. Smiled. "Jack. You've come to save me--"
Jack smiled. It was too wide, he felt. Too sharp. Too deadly. "No."
Her own smile faltered; his increased. She realized too late what would happened, her eyes widened in a realization of horror that came a mere second before Jack lunged at her, pinning her to the ground, his smile, his teeth shark as a knife. She struggled, resisted, failed; he held her down, beat her head against the hard stone as she fought against him, reached for a loose rock and began beating her mercilessly with it.
Aggressive culture of despotism
This was pure joy. Power, aggression, violence, hatred--all poured out on such a deserving victim. She screamed; he laughed. She fought, nails scratching against his face; he stopped her, his teeth sinking into her wrist, drawing precious blood.
Living fantasy of the immortal
"Jack, no! Stop!" But he wouldn't. He never would. Did her blood taste this good when it filled her mouth? Did it fill her lungs, choke her 'till she was out of breath, make her feel like she was drowning? Did it cause her pain like he now caused her pain? He hoped it did. He hoped every dash of the rock, every bite, every cut, every drop of blood let her feel just how deeply she had hurt him. And he would enjoy it. He would enjoy destroying her.
The life was draining from her. She didn't have the strength to fight. Jack stood up, the rock still in his hand, and observed his work. He noticed with pleasure that she was unrecognizable. He had done his work, but he needed a finish. A flourish.
The reality of an animal
With a wide swing of his arm, he sent the rock crashing down to her skull--
And Jack awoke with a scream.
My dearest friend don't go
She was gone. They had taken her.
He had lead them back through the wilderness, past the wall into dangers unknown--beasts, monsters of every size, every shape. They had all died. He was the only one who remained.
Why does Marlow keep going up the river?
Don't go to war
Don't choose to go
Why doesn't he turn back?
Stealthily, Jack navigated his way through the jungle, hazy sunlight encasing the trees' twisted branches. Foreign noises, beastly noises, trickle through both channels. Jack traversed on, knowing the fulfillment of his mission lay ahead in the heart of darkness.
There's a part of him that wants to, Jimmy. A part deep inside himself that sends a warning.
You will not win down the the cursed path of war
But there's another part that needs to know. To defeat the thing that makes him afraid.
The deeper he entered the jungle, the louder the sound, his breathing, became, until they were one in the same--the shrieking of the birds, the growling of the beasts at bay, the breathing of man. He became one with the jungle, slithering through the path like a snake, looking for prey.
Looking for her. His prize. His game.
Satine.
It's not an adventure story, is it, Mr. Hayes?
No, Jimmy. It's not.
This is the future of an illusion
He found her laying peacefully on a cliff, the moonlight's glow upon her skin and hair. He crouched over her, watching. Waiting.
She opened her eyes slowly. Saw him. Smiled. "Jack. You've come to save me--"
Jack smiled. It was too wide, he felt. Too sharp. Too deadly. "No."
Her own smile faltered; his increased. She realized too late what would happened, her eyes widened in a realization of horror that came a mere second before Jack lunged at her, pinning her to the ground, his smile, his teeth shark as a knife. She struggled, resisted, failed; he held her down, beat her head against the hard stone as she fought against him, reached for a loose rock and began beating her mercilessly with it.
Aggressive culture of despotism
This was pure joy. Power, aggression, violence, hatred--all poured out on such a deserving victim. She screamed; he laughed. She fought, nails scratching against his face; he stopped her, his teeth sinking into her wrist, drawing precious blood.
Living fantasy of the immortal
"Jack, no! Stop!" But he wouldn't. He never would. Did her blood taste this good when it filled her mouth? Did it fill her lungs, choke her 'till she was out of breath, make her feel like she was drowning? Did it cause her pain like he now caused her pain? He hoped it did. He hoped every dash of the rock, every bite, every cut, every drop of blood let her feel just how deeply she had hurt him. And he would enjoy it. He would enjoy destroying her.
The life was draining from her. She didn't have the strength to fight. Jack stood up, the rock still in his hand, and observed his work. He noticed with pleasure that she was unrecognizable. He had done his work, but he needed a finish. A flourish.
The reality of an animal
With a wide swing of his arm, he sent the rock crashing down to her skull--
And Jack awoke with a scream.