i will be the first one to admit that this is NOT the on the normal venue for my writing, but ... i'm a HUGE John Cena fan... that man is soooooo sexy! i used to watch wrestling when i was younger, but my brother never fails to miss a show. i was watching it the other day... and i thought of this opening...
so here it is. i want this story to be kind of dark- esque, and...well... as the title indicates, about what happens behind the scenes. (basically i deals with the my OC and her rise through the buisness).
i hope you guys like it!
Everything goes quiet. The lights follow suite, darkening everything around into a hollow abyss. The only thing left is the ring, sitting squarely in the center of the arena. Some artificial sunlight drips down from the overhead emergency bulbs so only a single circle is illuminated. Confetti litters the canvas, remaining the only remnants of this week's elaborate storyline. Something I like to call the illusion. Poetic, yet tragically realistic.
Some find the illusion comforting, something they can hold onto when they're in doubt. Others openly accept it, refusing to believe what lies beneath. Picture it: your idol, strong and handsome, valiantly fighting their rival and it all ending with a largely overdue celebration. I used to find the illusion comforting, and accepted it into my daily life, but not anymore.
The camera's turn off for another night and the crowd goes back to their lives, homes, and families. The superstars go back to their hotel room. Maybe they run to catch a flight back home. The one time they look forward to, before going back to the gym in the morning. The illusion's broken, at least until the next week. Or the next broadcast.
I find myself sitting in the middle of the circle, legs crossed, staring at the giant screen hanging below the fist. My picture was just one that screen, and I couldn't help thinking that. My illusion was not only broken, but disappearing. Evaporating, even, from my existence.
And all for the sake of entertainment...
I spotted him appear from behind the curtain. Slowly, he makes his way down the ramp towards me, staring right back. I can see that he's smiling, but I know he's just as uncertain.
In this instant, it's like I can read his mind. He's asking himself what I'm doing here. He asking why this all seems so dramatic. Too dramatic. He's thinking about asking me what I'm thinking about. He always asks me that, even if he really doesn't want to hear.
He continues towards me, stopping at the bottom of the ropes. I wanted to leap up hug him. I wanted him to come into the ring, pick me up, kiss me, run his hands over my body, and tell me that everything was 'okay'.
But he didn't. And I didn't. Instead, I sat harder. I brought my knees to my chest in an attempt to hide myself. If the situation was as bad as I was making it out to be, he would come to me and do all the things I wanted. He didn't budge. He continued staring for another few, incredibly nerve-racking and intense moments, then nodded towards the barricade. He scaled it with one leap, then placed himself in the front row of folding chairs.
An explosion of sound came from his pocket in the form of a 'riiiiinnnnnggggg.' I watched him sneak his cell phone from his pocket and turn it off. It as his girlfriend, no doubt. She was probably wondering where he was.
The silence was beginning to drive me crazy. It was making me reflect upon everything that had made me this pathetic. Yet, I subjected myself to it. And yet again, I wanted it to end.
Then the pity was washed away by a flood of anger ripping through my veins and cutting at my heart. He told me he'd have my back! He told me that he's be there! Well he's here now and he's not doing a damn thing! "...talk..." The words passed through my lips on a whisper that was barely audible. I strained my eyesight to see more than just his outline when I realized he had no intention of doing anything. I felt the anger grow, forming a knot in my throat. "TALK!" I screamed, letting the pressure go.
He folded his hands to his chin and redirected his eyes to the floor. He was telling me: When you're ready...
Tears were running down my cheeks, staining them with the make-up I had be given to wear. Running further with every passing moment, more stains formed on the clothes I had been given to wear. This made me angrier. I tore at the material, shredding until I broke a nail. With that, the rest of my body crumpled to the canvas and I cried.
My dream, my illusion, was shattered...
this chapter is just something to show you what my story is going to be like. THIS WILL HAPPEN/ TIE IN LATER IN THE STORY! i put it here to foreshadow that this fic is not going to be one of those ones where a completely novice OC comes in and wins the WWE/Woman's championship within a matter of days. that's not realistic. as my summary states, my OC starts from a low position and works up. this chapter can indicate two possible things.
1) she'll get to the top and have "the illusion" come crashing down
2) she'll never get to where she wants to be.
...i'll leave it up to you to decide for now...