The Soul of Shimérik: "Willing to lose myself in darkness; I must know if it truly exists—
a stain we all share,a thread we all wear, a scar to repair,
where could it be???
...Shimérik! Feast thine eyes to a trial of separation! On cue, I'll reveal to you the tightest spot where only instincts shall fit. Yet, to stake my passion upon an expression unknown... I beg thee now for empathy... Pray, I pray! If such a thrill were to exist, let it be remembered!"
Narrator: On stage, there's only one star in sight. The prescribed attire she adorned was that of a white dress. Devoid, or with that, a lack of. Verily, this visual spoke louder than the reputation of that mask. Held abreast to the fans she addressed, the blandest of crowns unfit for no frown.
The Soul of Shimérik: "We fell to the depths, for this world was too bright for us! Framed to fame yet only in name; thus, standing before you once more... seeking greater glory... to become the same... one passion rife with incandescence!"
(*th thump*)
Witnesses, all of you... Innocent audience O mine who hold stems of tribute... the heavens call out my name. It's now! Sunder the skies and shower me with thy rapt spotlight. Spare no eye, for it's you who grant us this crown!
(*th thump*)(*th thump*)(*th thump*)
Until forever, the greatest act of today!
Narrator: The people's icon dons the coronet.
Behold the precipice of evolution. She now stands just beyond them all. Over the horizons, there, the sun, passion seeks to call its own. For within it, bore an era new. Basking in its glow, this translucent aura wrought forth a smile. Yet, these rays of status drip down, painting the actress flush. With outstretched arms, ignore as one might; paradise burned too bright. Collapsing upon the stage—the greatest opportunity.
The Soul of Shimérik: . .. ... .....
(*th... thump*)...(*th....... thump*).....
Narrator: Smothered... endure.... Smothered... endure...... Smothered... endure.........
Why, with such weight, did it flicker? Just out of passion's reach, an arm's length away.
The Soul of Shimérik: (*th....... thump*)..........(*th................. thump*).................
Narrator: Imagine you may the time she had not—such is the conceit of the self-proclaimed bestower of fame. From within, the desire in agony. To have forgotten this blind girl had no place to run. Underneath a sun that followed, there was nowhere to hide; in fact, she could do not but crawl. Once thriving now just surviving below a familiar warmth gone cold. This scorching, now frigid intensity feasted upon any ambivalence. Echoing in obscure silence as if she melted away...
burn...burn...BURN!
Between subtle shading in the presence of tomorrow—
A visceral reaction!
!!! : "AHHHH"
. .. ...
(*huff*)....(*huff*)....(*huff*)(*huff*)(*huff*)(*huff*)
Narrator: On display to wake all that can see... the hollow cry that held no purpose. Behind the mask was a choice to debut. Now, thrust into Shimérik's beating heart, a dagger splitting the two. Mounted in place, watching, was a stolid face as if some statue. Blood thicker than water dressed their hue. Now, soaking heavy, foreign sweat, the deafening truth—
YOU ARE READING
Crown of Fame: Sholto's Script
Mystery / ThrillerUpon an act with life itself as our stage, remember what we are. When the lines of reality and illusion blur... when passion overlaps with desire, it's only fitting that, a human, judge what is truth. The City of Shimérik has long since waited for t...
