Title: ...dyin to live...
Featuring: Freddie Styles
Date: 3/8
Location: Unknown
Show: Confliction 2019

I stood before the room of Gods, my status as the Wrestling GOD on the line, as well as my status of King. Since I had failed to accomplish what I promised to be a given. It wasn't merely the fact that I failed to take down Clyde, it was the fact that I was pretty well outclassed. I understood why I was standing before the panel, and I was ready to accept my consequence for my failures.

The glares I received from each member seemed to burn a hole through me. I could feel their fiery gazes penetrate through me, leaving me intimidated.

"Do you know why you stand before us Freddie?" One of the men on the panel asked, his voice deep and booming. Like a roll of thunder from the heavens.

"I do. I failed the counsel of Gods, and I've failed my Kingdom of followers. I will accept the consequence handed down." I replied, unable to meet my eyes with his. My shame was overwhelming, and I had the strong feeling of needing to vomit. I was about to lose everything I worked hard to attain.

"Freddie Styles. Us of the counsel have decided that your representation of us in the mortal world is not agreeable. Therefore, we shall revoke your Immortal Status, and your place among us will also be suspended until we feel you have re-earned the Original right."

Everything around me seemed to fall apart, as I fell to my knees, trying to regain my breath. It felt as if I had been sucker punched in the gut, leaving the wind knocked out of me. I tried to steady my breathing, and accept this painful information; but it was to no avail.

"As for your self-claimed title as KING, we believe that you still deserve the right to the Kingdom you've built. We hope you realize what the title of GOD stands for. We shall re-evaluate this situation when the time is right. Until then, you must make your own decisions, and rely on only yourself and friends. We wish you luck Freddie. Do you have any further comments?"

This is where I suddenly vanished from the room filled with the all-powerful, and found myself staring in to the mirror, gun in hand. I looked to the gun, and then back to the mirror. Dark circles were underneath my eyes, and it looked as if I hadn't slept in days. I then spun the chamber, and pointed the gun directly at the mirror, barrel aiming at my reflection, and pulled the trigger.


Heh. I was to live then.

A broken man...

.... symphony of light floods Freddie's eyes, blinding him momentarily and forcing him to shield his eyes. The sensation of movement overwhelms his body, as he experiences something simmilar to a rollarcoaster ride, minus the screaming and spirals. The ride soon comes to a halt, however, and the light fades much as the dreams of those lost souls who never took a chance at life.

Freddie himself was eventually to become one of those lost souls, if he would not act on the second chance life was handing him once again.

"What is this...?"

Freddie slowly opens his eyes and finds himself in a dusty attic, his eyes widening in realization that this is, in fact, the attic of his old home. Warily, Freddie takes a step forward while his unbelieving eyes cast glances about the attic. The dust kicked up from the ground, a plume of it lit up by the sunlight filtered through the cobweb window, as specks danced about like fireflies as they intermingled with one another on their constant rise to the heavens. The sound of a footstep echoed throughout the seemingly abandoned attic, a lonely sound with none in which to accompany it. No cockroaches to skitter about the floorboards, no rats to squeak at the intruder. Seemingly abandoned, seemingly...lifeless.

"But how...how could this be?" Freddie's whisper cut through the air, adding to the sound waves which now mingled in the room. His eyes, retelling the memories of a life that once was, scanned about the room at the various boxes that adorned the ground before them. Another step forward, the euphonious outbreak of sound from the fall of his boot echoing off the attic walls once again. Sound was to be welcomed in this seemingly barren, silent world. A world in which everything had meaning to him.

The dusty attic's temperature had steadily rose throughout the day, causing it to be quite warm thanks to the sun's persistent battering. A single droplet of sweat rolled down Freddie's forehead, whose eyes blinked open once more. His feet, moving forward once again to allow yet another orchestra of sound radiate throughout the room.

"It's sad...isn't it?"

A voice cut through the air sharper then Freddie's whisper had before, the dust seemingly vibrating as the sound waves passed through them. Freddie recognized the voice and at the same time was frightened by it, his body jolting as he turned slowly, a small child standing before him.

"Don't be afraid." the child whispered.

For Freddie Styles it was hard, however, to not be afraid...for that child was him. His younger self, sadly looking about the attic. Months ago Freddie remembered this exact scene, minus the child, as his parents had invited him to come and take what was his; for they were selling the house and didn't want him to lose memories of his past. Surely this had to be a dream of deja vu, with a hint of schizophrenia. This would explain the manifestation of his childhood self, right?

"Why did you do it?" the child whispered once again, tilting his head with a curiousity very familiar to Freddie--after all, that curiousity was his own, "Why did you stop being a hero?"

The burning lump within Freddie's throat was almost too much for him to bear speaking through, but with a strained voice Freddie responded to his childhood apparition's question.

"I didn't mean to...I just, the people...I thought they'd given up on me. I thought...that they wanted to see me fall, even after all that I'd done for them."

"That's silly, don't you know the first thing about being a hero?"

This reply stunned Freddie, as he looked on at his childhood self with a partial sense of annoyance and regret.

"What are you saying?"

"Those people did love you...but in wrestling everyone loves to see the hero fall. They love it because they believe in the hero to fight back, to survive and give them something to believe in. Those people were sad because they expected you to prove to them you could still do it, but when you proved to them you could after...they kept on believing. They never betrayed you...you were punishing them for looking up to you as a hero, just because their views were different."

Freddie slowly sank to his knees, staring at the dusty ground in thought as one of the strongest senses of guilt he'd ever felt swept through his body, sending chills trickling down his spine and causing tears to glisten in his eyes. It was a dose of reality that Freddie had been waiting to receive, a realization that had been waiting to be made ever since the misunderstanding began. Finally, after all of this time...Freddie knew the truth--he had the answers in his hand, and for once? Denial wasn't a river running through his mind.

"You...you know..." Freddie chuckled softly, choking the words out in a whisper as he lifted his head to look at the child, "You're pretty smart for a little kid..."

Freddie's younger self laughed and shook his head, looking at Freddie as though he had a dunce cap firmly placed over his head and a "Kick Me" sign taped onto his back.

"Of course I am...I'm you, aren't I?"

It's an interesting paradox, that's for certain.

With a slight chuckle, Freddie lowered his head and stared at the ground, thoughts running through his mind like the gentle yet rapid flow of a stream. Moments passed on in silence, the dust beginning to settle around them as the remaining specks began to finish their performance in the sunlight, dancing down towards the ground. Soon, however, the younger Freddie's voice would float into Freddie's stream of thought, disrupting the current and drawing him from his mind.



"Freddie...? Wake up, honey, it's for you."


If a word could be used to describe Freddie's thoughts towards his younger self, at this moment in time, it would be "strange". Freddie's eyebrow raised as his younger self stepped forward and brushed his hand against his cheek.

"Hey...come on, wake up sweety."

'...this, this is strange...' Freddie thought to himself. However, with the gentle shake of his shoulder by his younger self, the world around him began fading. It was, of course, on this note that Freddie realized that his dream was coming to an end and that it was time to wake up.

The offer for a second chance had been given to him, along with the realization that he still had a chance to fulfill his boyhood dream--to be the man he'd always wanted to be. A simple dream ending with a strange twist...and all of the questions he wanted answered were taken care of.  Clyde Walker was the first step on that path.

It was time to start over...and make things right again.

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