Stigmata Posted October 17, 2017 Posted October 17, 2017 Camera opens on a large white crucifix, which is upside down. It slowly pans and amidst many burning candelabras and a background of stained glass windows, a man in a tattered black robe stands at a pulpit. He slowly raises his head, and reveals a face that has ornate black, white and red make up, with long jet black hair. He glares into the camera and flashes a malicious grin before beginning to speak. Stigmata: OCW stands on the precipice of change. Of a new era. Just as day yields to night, and Summer must submit to Fall, so must OCW endure a darkening. Everything must decay before it can grow anew. Without change you have stagnation. There can be no hope springs eternal, without first a winter of discontent. He raises his hands in the air, and just as the camera begins to close in, wounds seem to spontaneously open in the center of both hands. They begin to bleed a steady trickle of crimson down his arms, dripping onto the pulpit. A pipe organ begins to softly play a haunting dirge and Stigmata's grin fades as he continues his sermon. Stigmata: I have been chosen. Selected by a higher power to spread the word. I will gather my disciples and together we will use OCW as a platform. My voice will thunder the eternal verities, drowning out the ring of all that is false. The word will spread across the world like Captain Trips. There is no vaccine for the truth. Those who oppose me, and wish to sow doubt and disbelief, will reap a dark harvest. All non believers will be baptized in blood... He quickly shakes the bloods off his hands in a single violent gesture, spattering the camera lens, and his evil grin returns. Stigmata: Mine! He begins to laugh maniacally, as the organ music crescendos. Suddenly all the candles are snuffed out. Silence follows. 2
Recommended Posts