Int. Dark Room- Night
A man is sitting at what appears to be a desk, with the only light on in the room a lamp casting a shadow over half of the man’s face. He stares at the glass of scotch in his hand before downing the drink, and slamming the glass on the desk. Man groans, and then wipes his mouth off with his sleeve. He pushes the glass aside while keeping an undistracted stare at the surface of his desk.
Man (Larson)
We all wield tremendous power. It is whether we let it out or not that defines us. Past and future do not matter, because it is in the present where tomorrow is defined and yesterday is relived, played back in a never ending loop. State of mind is everything. If you can control your mind, the rest of reality drips away and you are free to recreate it as you choose.
Some call this insanity, but this is where true and absolute power is held. It is not left in the hands of a single man or woman, but is shared between all of us. It shifts and flows to those who are willing to command it. We can all choose to glow as a large faint light, or we can allow others to burn a small blinding sun. Greatness is made by those who are able to craft it, even if their hands are unwilling to grasp the necessary tools to comprehend their work. At least that is what I’m told.
I see things in my head, haunting things. They are burned into the edge of my memory. They flash across my vision and make me clench every muscle in my body. Then they vanish completely, leaving me to make sense of what happened and why. The thoughts make my bones quiver and my fingers twitch beyond control.
Let me ask you, am I mad? Or is my mind slowly erupting along with the rest of everything that’s real? When the world’s walls turn to glass what is behind them, and would we want to see? I don’t know, but all I can tell you is that they’re coming.
You’ll never know how. You’ll never know when. You’ll never know who. There is no way you can stop this. The game has been played. The die has been cast, and we failed. Sorry to disappoint. Sorry that you will never get to see the next soft sunrise or that loving look in the eye of the one closest to you. Or are they as close to you as they seem. They could be one of them hidden in the shadows of secrets and lies and deceit and hatred.
All that matters now is that they have one your soul, and what they intend to do with it is nobody’s knowledge. Will they cast it into the fiery pits of Hell? Will they make you one of them? Will they tell you that you are the one who can save all of us? None of it really matters. It all depends on how you see things, and no one knows where your train of thought is headed, but it will be derailed. Worse, even. It will never have existed.
So this is where my story ends, if it even began in the first place. What I got out of it was a big box of nothing, and to be honest, I really don’t care.
If you are looking for a reason to this confession, I can tell you that there is none, so stop looking. All I want to do now is watch this world burn.

The man gets up out up his chair and pushes it in. He stands there for a few moments with a blank expression on his face. Then two figures in all black emerge from the shadows and stand at this sides. The man grins, and the man to his left snaps his neck. Both figures then back up slowly into the darkness.
The camera then moves in toward the desk, and focuses in on an X carved into the desk with the “X Marks the Spot” carved below it.
Fade to black
The End