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Obscurity - Part I


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
[SCENE: The address reads 816 North Highland Avenue. A local bar in downtown Atlanta, Georgia known as the Dark Horse Tavern.]

[The camera slowly pans into the city tavern, showing the few patrons that frequent the bar on this particular evening, Monday, May 12th, 2008. Most are enjoying a drink after a long day of work, while others, are attempting to forget the past that haunts them.]

[Cut to the back alley of the tavern, as the sun fades into the horizon, there is little to no light shining in the small hallows of this particular section of the street. As the camera searches for movement, nothing can be seen, but a few trashcans and the rats that scurry about looking for this evening’s table scraps. Suddenly, the camera sets down upon a slouched figure, who rests motionless between the tavern’s dumpster and backdoor. As the camera gradually zooms in, the dark figure rests quietly with his head tucked between his legs, his long black hair is all that can be seen, overshadowed only by the half drunken bottle of Jack Daniels that hangs from his left hand.]

[Suddenly, the backdoor of the tavern flies open, as a trash bag is launched in the air into the dumpster. The noise does not phase the lifeless figure, yet the man who tossed the trash does.]

[Joe, the tavern’s popular bartender speaks.]

Joe: What in the hell is wrong with you?

[Not a word or a motion is offered from the man slouched in the alley.]

Joe: Day in and day out, you spend your life, rotting away here in this alley….here in this bar….here in this city. Do you think you are the first person to hit a bad patch in his life?

[In an eerie manner, the man lifts his head, his face still covered with the long black hair, which hasn’t been washed in days or maybe even weeks. He takes a long drink from the bottle of Jack Daniels that once rested in his hand, before responding to Joe’s comments.]

Bad patch? My entire life has been defined by pain, suffering, and anguish. I once struck fear into the heart of those that opposed me. Now that very fear has finally struck back and paralyzed me….making me the shadow of the man that I used to be.

[Joe is a man of courage and knowledge. Without missing a beat, he responds to the despondent figure.]

Joe: Don’t give me that self-pity bull****. I can’t carry you anymore kid. I feel for you, I really do, but its time for you to move on. I’ll call you a cab….

[The mysterious figure cuts Joe off in mid-sentence, cautiously coming to his feet, taking the last drink from the bottle, before ultimately discarding it to the ground. As the glass shatters, hitting the asphalt, the man staggers and stumbles, walking away from the spot that he once occupied.]

Don’t bother. I don’t need your charity.

Joe: Here, take your mail and your bag.

[Joe tosses the man’s bag and mail in his direction. Signs that the man had been homeless and accepting board from the local tavern. The man’s personal belongings hit him in the back, without reaction.]

Joe: Its all you’ve got.

[The man stops and turns slowly in Joe’s direction, reacting to his words. He picks up the bag which holds his few personal possessions, when something amongst the junk mail scattered about the alley captures his attention.]

[The man bends down to pick up the letter that captures his attention. It is addressed to him, but it is the return address which intrigues him.


[The man crumbles the letter in his hand and begins to stumble away, before uttering one last sentence in Joe’s direction.]

You’re right, it is all I’ve got….


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