-to and avoid suspicion (event)
-(background)
-wants to bring glory to cult
Unconscious desire
-to justify/lessen the implications of the actions? (event)
-(background)
Character
-tensed jaw, relaxes when he gets release
-selectively clean, master of detail and manipulation
-squeamish, but learned to get off on it
-experienced, blunted sense of smell
-(core) detail oriented, perverse to a deep lust of watching minors die.
-love taking photographs of boys in pain under the guise of practical documentation
Character Arc
Their situation and flaws will lead to their conflict
transformational: myth of the hero, the journey template, from zero to hero
Positive+negative: less dramatic compared to transformational, no need epic journey, but requires character to change from positive to negative outlook or vice versa.
flat/static:
Dramatic Conflict: forces of antagonism: inner (self vs self), personal (self vs other), extra-personal conflict (self vs nature, society, system)
the greater the value of desire > the greater of risk
what is the one single moment that starts it all, how to start, to end. Characters: How do they sound like and how they reveal themselves.
Objects of Desire: unearthing (maybe unconscious: the things they hide are what we look for), what you desire the most, no matter the risk; getting closer to true character core, not about wants anymore, it's about needs
The Spine: writing the monologue, setting the structure of the story.
What is Sherrif Hassan's object of desire
PROTECT
wanted to feel autonomy in NYPD (safety as an unconscious factor?),
also wanted to be an integral part to better change lives and influence those around him (society)
AFFIRMATION
external: assimilated and desired to become a full identity—of his physical appearance, adopt religion, language, culture.
SAFETY
needs acceptance from other people > unconscious desire : self acceptance being proud of who he is.
MONOLOGUE
Single character aware that other character is listening and reacting.
Converting character’s conceptualisation to develop and transform action/speech and intention
Beginning introducing character, information characterisation
Climax vulnerable inner thoughts, core of conflict
Ending arrive at the 4revelation, shift in character
Older character, male 50s, clean shaven, think-tank, a tiny dad vibe, learnt to T pose, dominant
Development of character: was broke, experiences midlife crisis, then becomes agreeable with killing
If we provide this mercy for animals, shouldn’t we provide it more to humans, who definitely deserve more?
Pushback against this philosophy further perpetuates this ideology; that the others are spiralling down ignorance, and that he should save them.
Certain Gestures and diction of anxiety scattered into the text
This is done by a few steps. Test their souls for corruption. And if they are pure, relieve them immediately. If they are stained, cleanse and purify them with pain before relieving them. Dismiss the ones that are too old. They are beyond saving, and have succumbed to systemic evil. Evil… There are many things we may perceive as evil…but they are in a sense, good. I’ll tell you why. Listen. You know that ncient proverbs of wisdom speak of misfortunes as blessings in disguise, and of silver linings in clouds. I’ll tell you how I saw evil changing its role in my life.
It’s funny, but before I joined the food industry, I was on the streets, scraping by as an odd jobs person. Imagine that! Fixing gates, walking dogs in the rain, selling pickled fruit and keychains on an empty stomach—with my health at its worst. I wasn’t living, you see, I was surviving on scraps and water off the alley pipes and a worry ridden turnip for a head.
That’s what mother used to call me, until she—dried out alone at the old folks home after the eviction—I came back to see a worm riddled turnip stuck fast in her bloated hands. Her sunken eyes had no recognition for me. That was already three, four years back.
But then I happened to do a stint in Rahim’s slaughterhouse, you know Rahim, down the country, yes, I know that there’s an apparent stigma but you see, it’s often the people out there conflating a fixed morality that’s so, so shallow in its understanding, they follow the crowd and judge our work without even really knowing why they do so.
Ah, then I was in Rahim’s care—I remember it as clear as it was yesterday, with my first few weeks mopping up sick on the sopping floor, my squeegee squeaking on blood mixed with feces. (reflects)
It really was a struggle to perform at first, you know, we’re more or less abhorred by the smell of death and pain. But I stuck on, and Rahim cared for me and—taught me—much.
Listen, okay. I did learn a lot from him. Like how death is not understood properly by most of us, you know? It’s a mental crutch that really sucks. It sucks the life right off your marrow. I’ve taken off this crutch, this taboo. Rahim gave me more than a job, you see. He made my mind develop.
Because they will always be screaming in there. They do. Until they stop out of fatigue and, or it could be a sense of hopelessness. You can only imagine the sensation of, how something so delicate as a thread of life is twisted, and snapped, not into half-life, but to nothing at all. you can only imagine it when the calf shudders. but a shadow of that pain crawls up the spine, and you feel your heart go so fast it could burst. A life.
You see, We keep the calves soft, their muscles never knew pain, or exertion, and that moment of pain is a rapture, so to speak, can be A physical realization of a new experience, beyond what their tender years could ever conceive. Oh, they have lived in a system bound to kill them, unfortunate enough to be cogs fitted to the wheel of profit, poor fortune! their food, the mother’s milk, churned for a wheel of cheese.
And we believe that on a physical level, it generates a certain standard of
Dysphoria (trails off)
But the workers would calm themselves, you see, they say that the sooner you kill the thing, the better—there’s no point in prolonging its suffering. The life lying ahead of them would not have been kinder anyway. And so we pride ourselves to a certain extent, as a provider of service working the balance between worlds of pain and pleasure, a give and take of equal favour. Or some would call it flavor, ha ha! I was taught to liberate those who have no need to suffer.
.
This truth lies within every one of us, you know this. No? Well, no use bandying over experience and its meaning. You’ll get it once you’ve endured enough falsehood to know.
.
You talked about how this killer is inhuman? Evil? Evil is subjective for sure. It is. It must be. I hope you can see how, rhetorically speaking, I’d say that to commit Evil is to allow others to continue wallowing in their own ignorance. I hope you can see that now.
the delicate thread balanced in between the binds of the norm and the consequences of certain actions strums a sweet melody unheard to most ears. Its tune so pure and thin it snaps with a heavier hand that plays it. That heavier hand will be stung by the snapped string, leaving a red welt that we all call the mark of...evil. For Evil only exists the moment you get caught.
MONOLOGUE OF A MURDERER
Conscious desire
-wants to make her son agree with her view, or at least familiarize it to him
Unconscious desire
-to justify/lessen the implications of the actions? Because she does not want her current life decisions to be swayed
Character
-nervous hands
-selectively clean, master of detail and manipulation
-squeamish, but learned to get off on it
-experienced, blunted sense of smell
-expressive
Older character, mom 50+, passionate hand-speak, strong interior moulded to protect her mentality that is clear-cut justice.
Development of character: was broke, experiences midlife crisis, then becomes agreeable with killing because of revelation. Now conflict of mother teaching something that child may very well disagree with, while having internal conflict of (xxx)
“If we provide this mercy for animals, shouldn’t we provide it more to humans, who definitely deserve more?”
Pushback against this philosophy further perpetuates this ideology; that the others are spiralling down ignorance, and that she should save them.
Evil…evil, yes? dear boy, ma wants you to know that—ma has had her share of experiencing evil, evil people (assuring touch).
(avoiding eye contact) And ma agrees with you.
The fool gambler out there will say: no! That there are layers of good cards in even the worst hands. That there are layers of good in even the worst kinds of people. But we must realize the clean divide between good and evil. (decisive, shaking her fist) Absolute division. Absolute, no matter who they are or what they think or what they do.
Remember, when ma taught you playing cards? The deck deals only in black, and white. Wrong, and right. Dark, And light?
Son, there cannot be gray in the binary of good and evil, no.
We can never bet on both sides of the coin.
Ma worries for you everyday, because—there are ideas out there, exposing, misleading people on what good and evil can be.
But love, listen. True evil, and true good, goes beyond what is in fashion for the law. What are laws, when good men like grandpa are seen as criminals in this corrupt country?
You know, before food processing, ma was scraping by on the streets, with odd jobs. Imagine that! Fixing gates, walking dogs in the rain, selling pickled fruit and keychains on an empty stomach, with you inside here (points at abdomen). ma wasn’t living, you see. (touches abdomen) We. We weren’t living, you and I.
While coins rolled down bourgeois palms, we survived on scraps, and water off the alley pipes, and me, with a worry ridden turnip for a head.
(beat) That’s what grandpa used to call ma. Until he—dried out alone at the old folks home after the eviction—I came back to see a worm riddled turnip stuck fast in his bloated hands. He did not recognize me, not once, not even when (cuts off, sits on hands)
And then ma was accepted as a cleaning lady in the slaughterhouse.
Ah, then ma was in Uncle Rahim’s care—ma remembers, clear as day, the first few weeks mopping up sick on the sopping floor, the squeegee squeaking on bloodstains and cow dung. (reflects)
It’s not easy, at all. Not at first. It was hard to take in the daily dose of death and pain. But ma was blessed.
Because ma stuck on, Uncle Rahim cared for ma and—taught ma—a lot.
(gesturing at the body) Like how death is not understood properly by most of us, mhm? It’s a mental crutch that really—it was really a lesson to get over mental blocks, and, ma has taken off this crutch, this taboo. Uncle Rahim gave ma more than a job, you see. He made my mind (beat) develop.
(speeding up) Because they will always be screaming in there, dear.
Screaming in the slaughterhouse. Screaming, suffering in too many ways be it the slaughterhouse or society, until everything stops.
Stopping out of fatigue and, or it could be the sense of hopelessness.
You can only imagine the sensation of, how something so delicate as a thread of life is twisted, and snapped, not into half-life, but to nothing at all. you can only imagine it when the calf shudders. But a shadow of that pain crawls up the spine, and you feel your heart go so fast it could burst. A life. (beat)
You know, the calves are kept soft in the slaughterhouse—their tender muscles never knew pain, or exertion—and that moment, that intensity of pain is a rapture, so to speak. It’s like the physical realization of a new experience, beyond what their tender years could ever conceive. And it gives them a chance to expend the most life while in the act of surrendering it. (clearly) We must never go gentle into that good night.
Oh, they live in a system that kills them. Cogs fitted to the wheel of profit, and their mother’s milk denied them but churned for a wheel of cheese.
That is why, the sooner you kill the calf, the better—there’s no point in prolonging its suffering. There is no life lying ahead of them, and so it is a kindness to kill.
That is why we have pride! Pride, as a provider of service working the balance between worlds of pain and pleasure, a give and take of equal favor. (afterthought) Or even flavor. Ma was taught to liberate those who have no need to suffer.
.
,
.
.
Evil…evil? Dear boy, I want you to know that—I have experienced evil, evil people myself (assuring touch). I’ve known many in past lives, and in this one as well.
The fool gambler out there will say: no! That there are good cards in even the worst hands. That there are layers of good in even the worst kinds of people. That is simply not true. In order to stay safe in the order of nature, we must first realize the clean divide between good and evil. (decisive, shaking her fist) Absolute division. Absolute, no matter who they are or what they think or what they do.
Remember, when I taught you playing cards? You may get a mixed hand when playing that game, yes. But not so in life. The deck deals only in black, and white. Wrong, and right. I know that the idea of true evil, and true good, may not be realized in the hearts of the people. But it very much exists. And it goes beyond man made laws that alters its fashion according to the moment.
(shakes head)
Of course, some might think that they can get away with cheating in nature’s game.
These people, they only understand man made laws— that are so easily twisted and broken—that they are taken by surprise when nature intercedes (winks). It’s a good thing that nature never holds back.
You know, before I worked here, I was scraping by on the streets, with odd jobs. Imagine that! Fixing gates, walking dogs in the rain, selling pickled fruit and keychains on an empty stomach. I wasn’t living, you see. I was surviving. On scraps, and water off the alley pipes, with a worry ridden turnip for a head.
(beat) That’s what grandpa used to call me. Until he—dried out alone at the old folks home—I came back to see a worm riddled turnip stuck fast in his bloated hands. He did not recognize me, not once, not even when (cuts off, sits on hands)
And then I was accepted as a cleaning lady in the slaughterhouse.
Ah, then I was in Rahim’s care—I remembers, clear as day, the first few weeks mopping up sick on the sopping floor, the squeegee squeaking on bloodstains and cow dung. (reflects)
It’s not easy, at all. Not at first. It was hard to take in the daily dose of death and pain. But I was blessed.
Because I stuck on, Rahim cared for me and—taught me—a lot.
(gesturing at the body) Like how death is not understood properly by most of us, mhm?
It’s a mental crutch that really—it was really a lesson to get over mental blocks, and, I has taken off this crutch, this taboo. Rahim gave I more than a job, you see. He made my mind (beat) develop.
(speeding up) Because they will always be screaming in there.
Screaming in the slaughterhouse. Screaming, suffering in too many ways be it the slaughterhouse or society, until everything stops.
Stopping out of fatigue and, or it could be the sense of hopelessness.
You can only imagine the sensation of, how something so delicate as a thread of life is twisted, and snapped, not into half-life, but to nothing at all.
you can only imagine it when the calf shudders. But a shadow of that pain crawls up the spine, and you feel your heart go so fast it could burst. A life. (beat)
You know, the calves are kept soft in the slaughterhouse—their tender muscles never knew pain, or exertion—and that moment, that intensity of pain is a rapture, so to speak. It’s like the physical realization of a new experience, beyond what their tender years could ever conceive. And it gives them a chance to expend the most life while in the act of surrendering it. (clearly) We must never go gentle into that good night.
Oh, they live in a system that kills them. Cogs fitted to the wheel of profit, and their mother’s milk denied them but churned for a wheel of cheese.
That is why, the sooner you kill the calf, the better—there’s no point in prolonging its suffering. There is no life lying ahead of them, and so it is a kindness to kill.
That is why we have pride! Pride, as a provider of service working the balance between worlds of pain and pleasure, a give and take of equal favor. (afterthought) Or even flavor. I was taught to liberate those who have no need to suffer.
We need to be good, to protect all the innocent from the suffering in this evil society. to remove their suffering.
Because, to commit Evil is to allow them to continue wallowing in their own ignorance. I (hesitating) I hope you can see that now.
You said that the murderer is inhuman. My guess is that you’re probably right. The murderer is a hand of nature herself.
;;;;;;;;;
Scene in the cafeteria of the slaughterhouse, where Elizabeth stretches and massages her sore hip before speaking.
Evil…evil? Young man, I want you to know that…I have experienced evil, evil people myself in my past and present lives. (Beat) But I’m not talking about man-made laws, which has no fixed definition, no. This is true evil. Nature’s evil (Begins cleaning Derrick’s table).
The foolish gambler unacquainted with nature will say: no! That there are good cards in even the worst hands. That layers seen as good in the worst kinds of people do amount to something meaningful. That is simply not true.
In order to follow nature’s order, we must first realize the clean divide between her good and her evil. (decisive, shaking her fist) Absolute division. Absolute; no matter who you are or what you think or what you do.
When nature starts a game of cards, you get a set outcome. Clearly, there are rules tying you into the frame of her game.
Nature’s deck of life, you see, deals only in black and white. Wrong, and right. You may not be fully awakened to her truth, but she lies within every one of us.
When I look closely at how the rich gives to the poor, I’m not deceived by the shine of their coins. I seek and see true evil pervading their intentions. I watch how they gain more status, power, and self-righteousness with each so called act of “giving”— all the while exploiting nature and the trust of those around them. Such behaviour is natural to this city, yes. But nature sees such people for who they really are. They are true evil, even when society twists the narrative, and tries to make shit smell good.
Nature’s idea of true evil and true good cannot be realized by the hearts of the city. Of course they don’t realize it. They have long since abandoned nature’s goodness of life in order to embrace the death of concrete. They are born blind to natural laws, which goes beyond these city laws that always change their fashion.
(shakes head)
Of course, some might think that they can get away with cheating in nature’s game.
These people only understand city laws—so easily twisted and broken—that they are taken by surprise when nature never fails to serve (winks). But Nature moves in ways uninhibited by man Nature. She never holds back.
I was scraping by with odd jobs before I became a cleaner. Fixing gates, walking dogs in the rain, selling pickled fruit and keychains on an empty stomach. It wasn’t the best kind of living, you see. Not in this kind of city anyway. While butter dripped down bourgeois’ fingers, I was worry ridden, barely surviving on scraps with water off the alley pipes. But the moment I realized that humankind manifested true evil was when I was accepted and assigned a cleaning role here. That was when I really opened my eyes to the pains nature endured.
I remember clear as day; the first few weeks my sopping mop mopping sick from the floor, my squeegee squeaking on bloodstains and cow dung. (reflects)
It’s not easy at all. Not at first. You would know that it is hard to digest the daily dose of unnatural death and pain. But we’re locked into this force of habit, yes. We all need to eat, even if our means are built on foundations of true evil.
Do you know how nature suffers?
She screams, in too many ways be it the slaughterhouse or society, until everything stops.
Stopping out of fatigue, or sense of hopelessness. You can only imagine the sensation of how something so delicate as a thread of life is twisted—vibrating with screams—and snapped. Not into half-life, but to nothing at all. You can only imagine it when the calf shudders. But a shadow of that pain crawls up the spine, and you feel your heart go so fast it could burst. A life. (beat)
But that is why I am here, to bring a level of balance back into what nature wanted.
You know, the calves are kept soft here—their tender muscles never knew pain, or exertion—and that moment, that intensity of pain at death is a rapture, so to speak. It’s like the physical realization of a new experience, beyond what their tender years could ever conceive. And it gives them a chance to expend the most life while in the act of surrendering it. (clearly) We must never go gentle into that good night.
Oh, they live in a system that kills them. Cogs fitted to the wheel of profit, and their mother’s milk denied them but churned for a wheel of cheese. That is why, the sooner you kill the calf, the better—there’s no point in prolonging its suffering. There is no life lying ahead of them, and so it is a kindness to kill.
I provide the service of working the balance between worlds of pain and pleasure. I help in the giving and taking of equal favour, helping Nature to liberate the innocent who have no need to suffer.
Because, to commit Evil is to allow them to wallow in their own ignorance in the benefit of those who are evil. We are the ones striving to stop others from committing evil by any means possible, in order to reach for a balance of good.
You said that the murderer is inhuman. My guess is that you’re probably right. The killer is a hand of nature herself.
Dad in Argument about integrity and the ethic of truth as black and white, that you cannot lie ever, it is a sin to lie to anyone, breaks off argument to enter customer service voice, smoothly answers saying that he’s in a meeting but he has time.
Calls come in until he actually loses all composure and says the truth; I’m fucking educating my son right now,
Look! Look what you made me do!
I made you tell the truth.
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