Hopes Manifest Where Dreams Inspire

“Do not be sad that all odds are against you; be happy that your real purpose is with you.” - Ernest Agyemang Yeboah ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air is thick with foreboding energy, like a dark, deepening blanket threatening to consume whatever dares to enter. The steps ahead are lit by an unearthly glow from somewhere above. My steps are light, and each carefully touches every new square inch of concrete with extreme caution. All of my focus is on what awaits me. I hug a wall on this side of the staircase, the fear filling my chest. I feel the sweat on my brow and the nape of my neck. As I emerge, I see up above me perched at the top of another set of smoke-draped steps, a giant figure - a man, some fifty feet in height, with a flat top haircut, shirtless, with jean shorts on, and sneakers on his feet. His eyes are lifeless, without pupils or color, and his gaze follows my every movement. My steps stay light, crossing one foot over the other as I inch slowly to the center of this platform. I am aware of a precipice on either side and behind me. The only place to stand is here, staring up at this creature. It is now that I suddenly and oddly realize that I have a proton pack strapped on my back. It’s possible I should not have watched Ghostbusters right before falling asleep. I am both inside my own body and outside it somehow. I hear muffled, terrified-sounding words, then realize they’re coming from my mouth. “Doozer the Doozarian? Good evening. As a duly-designated representative of Vae Victis, PRIME, and professional wrestling, I order you to cease any and all Bandit activity and return forthwith to your place of origin, or to the next convenient parallel dimension.” The creature snarls in my direction. “ARE YOU A GOD?” I frown, confused. “No.” Suddenly, there are more of them. I’m able to count at least six others surrounding the Doozer creature - a Jiles creature, a Dean creature, another Dean creature, an Avalon creature, a Gamble creature, and a Hess creature—so many creatures. All at once, like supernaturally evil Rockettes, they turn sideways with arms outstretched, then spin back and scream… “THEN… DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!” All at once, eggs fly from their fingers and pelt me from every direction. Boiled eggs, raw eggs, eggs over easy, poached eggs, sunny side up eggs, green eggs, but no ham. I throw my arms up in defense, but it’s no use. I am thrown back from the force of this egg assault, terrified because I am allergic to poultry. I am also allergic to citrus fruit, but that doesn’t seem relevant right now. Either way, I left my EpiPen at home, so it’s a problem. My eyes are practically closed due to copious amounts of egg goo, but I can still make out the Jiles creature turning and shooting eggs from his fingers at the Doozer creature for no reason. This is of no concern to me in particular, but apparently, the Jiles creature is just an asshole. But I’m not scared of Cancer. More people die of the flu every year. I shoot straight up in bed. A bad dream. “Dammit, Scott,” I scold myself. “When someone asks you if you’re a God, you say YES!!” Shaking my head, I throw back my Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man throw blanket and stand to my feet, yawning, stretching, and greeting the new day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Magically, hopelessness gives rise to profound hope.” - Stefan Emunds ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air in the warehouse felt thicker than usual. Scott had started training here when it was cooler, but the full heat of summer was cooking the metal structure like a giant crock pot. It didn’t help that the air conditioning wasn’t up to the challenge. Too much sun was beating down on the roof, and too many bodies were inside. Scott wiped his brow, the heat from the overhead lights adding to the desperate, thick soup of humidity and making his skin slick. He could hear the rhythmic thud of bodies hitting the mat and the echo of occasional laughter. This was home to him now. Everyone else was flying directly to Minneapolis, but he had to re-center himself with such an important match coming up. It was worth the extra travel back down to Miami between shows, and Kerry was nice enough to come along. Speaking of his partner, he was across the room, running through a series of grappling maneuvers with the intensity of a bulldog. He was the Five Star Champion now, having defeated Steve Harrison at Ultraviolence. Scott was proud of his friend and genuinely happy for him. It made Scott even more determined to prove himself. So much work to do. Kerry was focused, his brow furrowed, each movement precise and deliberate. Scott admired that about him; no matter how tough the training got, Kerry kept pushing forward. “Come on, Scott! You can’t let a little heat stop you!” Kerry shouted, panting as he threw his sparring partner to the mat with a satisfying thud. “Yeah, yeah!” Scott retorted, picking up the pace on the treadmill. “Just wait ‘til I crank things up to eleven!” Kerry chuckled, then turned back to his opponent and locked up. Scott glanced away toward the corner where a few other wrestlers were lifting weights, the clanking of metal providing a background score to the banter. Scott’s attention drifted briefly, and his mind flickered back to his match against Rose. He was sure his victory still surprised some people, which felt good, but he was smart enough to know it meant people still underestimated him. Rose didn’t, and that gave him solace. He knew she brought everything she had, and yet he was able to get the win. It felt like he was finally finding his footing in the ring. Something else prodded at the corner of his mind. His focus drifted even more. His pace slowed until it resembled a slow jog. Suddenly, he saw Kerry out of the corner of his eye, waving a hand at him just a few feet away. He had been clear across the room, and Scott was a little embarrassed to realize he hadn’t noticed him approaching or heard him calling out his name. “Earth to Scott. You okay, man?” Kerry stepped closer. “I was saying you’ve got Doozer in the first round. The Egg Bandits aren’t gonna take it easy on you. You know that, right?” Scott nodded, the name alone making his stomach churn. Doozer was a long-time veteran. He didn’t seem like the competitor he used to be, but you never know. The Bandits were known for their dirty tactics, but at the same time, Scott wasn’t sure where Doozer even stood with them anymore. Kerry spoke up, as if reading Scott’s mind. “You need to keep your head on a swivel for Cancer Jiles. Trust me.” Scott nodded. “Yeah, I know. They’re not just gonna let me have the win. I need to keep getting sharper, keep getting faster.” Kerry reached out, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “You’ve got this. Just remember what we’ve been working on. Use your speed to your advantage. Don’t let him bully you around. He’s got tons of experience, but you’ve got him beat in athleticism, and he’s got a lot of miles on his tires.” “I’m trying. It’s just… I don’t know.”

Kerry frowned. “What?” Scott sighed deeply, coming to a complete stop. He reached over and took his phone from a small holder attached to the treadmill and lightly tossed it to his best friend. Kerry looked down, and on the lock screen, he saw six unread messages, all from Valerie. Kerry raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from serious to teasing. “Ah, the old girlfriend. That’s what’s got you distracted, huh? Have you been leaving her on ‘read’ this whole time?” Scott nodded his head, not picking up on the teasing tone. “It’s not just that. It’s everything. She’s… I mean… I don’t know. I’m different now. I’m not that same kid anymore. Still, I can’t help but think about how things were back then. It’s hard to keep my head in the game.” “Listen,” Kerry said, a glimmer of seriousness returning to his voice. “You can’t let these memories mess with your head now. You’re in the Almasy. You have another chance to show everyone what you’re made of, and this is a big one, man. It’s big for both of us.” “Right,” Scott replied, his voice more determined now. “I can’t let distractions take me down. I have to focus on the match.” “Exactly,” Kerry said, stepping back. “Now, how about we hit the mats? I’ll go easy on you at first, but I expect you to bring it.” Scott smiled, the camaraderie lifting his spirits a bit. “You going easy? That’s a first.” As they moved to the center of the gym, Scott’s mind started to refocus, and his distractions faded. The echoing voices and the clattering weights blurred into a distant hum. The only thing that mattered now was the mat beneath their feet and the tournament ahead. Kerry lunged forward, grabbing Scott’s arm and twisting it behind his back. “C’mon, man! Show me that speed of yours!” “Gah! Not the arm!” Scott gasped, twisting out of Kerry’s grip and rolling to the side. He sprang to his feet, adrenaline kicking in. “You think you can take me down so easily?” “Just warming up!” Kerry laughed, lunging at Scott again. “You’ve gotta be quicker than that!” Scott ducked, narrowly avoiding Kerry’s grasp. “I’ve got moves, you know!” He pushed off the mat, executing a swift spin that sent him behind Kerry. Kerry spun around, eyes wide. “Whoa, when did you learn that?” “Training with the best,” Scott said, a triumphant smirk on his face as he landed a playful shove on Kerry’s shoulder. They exchanged blows, mild amusement punctuating each shot as they sparred. Punches were thrown, bodies collided, and they were having a full-on match before they knew it. In no time, eyes were fixated on these two in the ring. Training turned into a show that everyone in the gym was watching. An Irish whip became a furious series of counters until Kerry finally caught Scott with a boot to the midsection, grabbed his arm into a pumphandle, and pulled him up for an Emerald Flowsion. To his shock, Scott flipped over him and landed on his feet. Kerry spun around just in time to see Scott bounding off the ropes and leaping into the air, spinning and throwing an elbow straight at Kerry’s right temple with pinpoint accuracy. Kerry felt the elbow fly past his head, missing by less than a centimeter as Kerry leaned back just in time. Both friends put on the brakes and stopped, staring each other down and eliciting an ovation from the gathering crowd. Scott smiled first, and Kerry smirked back at him. “Okay, okay!” Kerry finally said, panting heavily. “Let’s take a breather. I need to not die before my match.” Scott nodded, “Me too.” He collapsed backward to a seated position in the corner. Kerry breathed a deep sigh as he leaned back against the ropes, resting. “Just do that against Doozer and you’ll be fine. Crack him before he cracks you.” “That joke…” Scott said between deep breaths, “...is terrible. But I’ll take it. Anything to keep the nerves at bay.” “Speaking of nerves,” Kerry said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you could just talk to her, you know? Like, really talk. Get things out in the open.” “I’ve been avoiding it,” Scott admitted, running a hand through his hair. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, remember me? The awkward kid who followed you around like a puppy dog until you ran away?’” “Maybe start with ‘Hey, it’s great to hear from you again!’” Kerry suggested, nudging Scott gently. “She’s not gonna bite your head off… I don’t think.” “Yeah, but it’s like I said. I’ve changed. It’s been too long. She doesn’t even know me anymore. And I’m not sure I look at her the same way anymore. In fact… nah, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel worth the trouble right now. She won’t keep messaging me forever. I’m just gonna leave it be.” Kerry raised an eyebrow. “And what if she does? You can’t let the past control your future, Scott. You said it yourself. You’re a different person now. Stronger. Maybe you have a chance to rewrite that story.” Scott contemplated this, a knot forming in his stomach. He wanted to believe Kerry’s words, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. “Alright, I’ll think about it,” he finally said, forcing a smile. “But right now, I need to focus on Doozer.” “Good man. Let’s get back to it so we don’t go one and done in this thing.” Scott pulled himself by the ropes, and they started to circle each other again. Kerry wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and, doing his best Apollo Creed, used his free hand to do an exaggerated “ding… ding” to signal starting another round of sparring. The friends and partners circled each other, feigning in and out. Scott was all business, and Kerry got a kick out of his young friend. One last time, they circled, then with full intensity… They locked up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cemetery stood still under a gray sky, the kind that promised rain but hesitated. Scott walked along the winding path, his boots crunching softly on the gravel, each step a reminder of the invisible weight he carried. The air was thick with damp earth and decaying leaves, a bittersweet smell that wrapped around him like a shroud. He had sold Kerry on this trip by saying he wanted to come home to train, a thin premise even to Scott. Truth be told, there was something else. He just didn’t want to talk about it. He stopped before a modest headstone, the letters weathered but legible: “Beloved Mother, Sarah Mitchell.” The date of death was exactly twenty-three years ago. His heart clenched. It felt surreal as it always did, standing here again, the anniversary of her passing casting a shadow over the day. “Hey, mom,” he murmured, a smile breaking through his sadness. “It’s me. Just wanted to come by and talk.” He knelt, brushing his fingers over the cold stone, feeling the grooves of her name under his touch. “Things are… Well, they’re going pretty good, actually. Training’s intense, but I’m finally getting the hang of it.” He chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the rustle of leaves overhead. “Kerry says I’m getting better at taking punches to the face. I guess that’s a compliment, right?” He paused, his mind returning to his six-year-old eyes looking at her face. He remembered her sad eyes, twinkling with encouragement even at a young age. “You always believed in me, didn’t you? Even when I was just a scrawny kid bouncing around on the trampoline.” The thought brought a warm rush of nostalgia. He could almost hear her laughter, that bright, infectious sound that made everything feel lighter. “I miss that laugh.” “Sometimes I wonder what you’d think of all this,” he continued, motioning vaguely to the world around him. “The wrestling, the friends I’ve made. I actually have a family now, you know? It’s not blood, but it feels real. Kerry and the others are always there, supporting each other.” His throat tightened, the lump forming as he remembered the empty seat at so many family gatherings - the same sadness in his father’s eyes, the way he changed the subject anytime her name came up. He wished they had celebrated her more, but he was recently starting to understand his dad’s heartbreak. He never talked about it, and he probably never would. “I wish I could introduce you to them. I accidentally fell into this circle of people, but I think they get me. They know how hard I work, and they push me to get better.” Scott glanced at the sky, the clouds parting just enough to let a beam of sunlight break through, illuminating the stone in one corner. “They care about me, like you did.” He picked up a small rock and tossed it lightly, watching it skitter across the grass. “I still talk to you all the time, you know. Sometimes it feels silly, but I swear you can hear me. I can almost hear you telling me to get up and try again whenever I fall. You wouldn’t let me give up.” He took a deep breath, the cool morning air filling his lungs as he steadied himself. “Kerry says I need to channel my emotions, you know? Use them in the ring. He thinks it’ll help me connect with the crowd. So, I’m working on that. But sometimes it feels like I’m carrying you with me, like I’m wrestling for you. Emma’s doing great, too. She comes and watches me sometimes. Dad even came with her to Australia, if you can imagine that. He’s still so sad. I wish he weren’t.” Scott’s voice broke as he spoke, the weight of loss pressing heavily on his heart. “I miss you so much. It’s like this hole in my life just won’t fill. I wish you were here to see me succeed and finally put it all together.” His eyes glistened, and he wiped a hand across his face, brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. “I hate that I have to do this without you. That I can’t share the victories with you. It feels unfair.” He let the silence wash over him. “But I know you’re with me in some way. I feel it when I’m in the ring and standing there, adrenaline pumping, ready to go.” “I can hear you cheering me on,” he said, a smile creeping back onto his face. “I can hear you telling me how much you like watching me fly.” He stood up, shaking off the melancholy that clung to him. “I’m gonna make you proud, Mom. I promise.” As he turned to leave, he felt lighter, as if the weight of his grief had shifted, if only for a moment. The gravel crunched underfoot, a rhythmic sound echoing in the quiet cemetery. He looked back one last time, a slight smile on his lips. “I love you always.” The wind picked up, rustling the leaves above, and he could almost imagine it carrying his words to her, a gentle whisper that floated through the air. Scott stepped out of the cemetery, the sun breaking through the clouds in earnest, warming his back as he headed towards the car parked on the street. He had to pick up Kerry, and they had a plane to catch. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he felt a renewed excitement coursing through him. He remembered her last words to him, how she would always be with him, and he knew it was true. The biggest test of his life was before him, and there was still so much work left to do before he felt ready. He started the engine, the rumble resonating in his chest. “For you, Mom.” With a final glance in the rearview mirror, he pulled away from the cemetery, took a deep breath, and smirked. “Doozer won’t know what hit him…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “It’s hard to beat a person who never gives up.” - George Herman Ruth