Post by Melinda Rhodes on Sept 16, 2021 17:50:37 GMT -6
In black and white filter, we see deft hands in motion, recorded while playing a black and gold acoustic guitar while giving a beautiful performance of Hotel California. The tone and sound quality of the higher end Zager guitar is as unmistakable as the melody being played upon it. As this up close and faceless performance continues on, a woman's voice is heard speaking, a dramatic contralto that has an added roughness that tells us that the speaker has a bit of age to her.
Voice: It's been a long.... long time since I've spoken to this side of the wrestling world. It felt like an eternity since I'd been here and held for a fleeting moment, a symbol of actual accomplishment on the biggest stage of them all.... E...W...C. I got a letter from my old friend, Danny. I remember how heartbreaking my fall was for us both.... The tears in my eyes combined with anger and absolute venom in my heart. I remember screaming to the heavens, not realizing then that every bit of my pain and sorrow was my own damn fault. Entitled minds tend to be blind to such things as fault and reason. Some say I never truly recovered, that ever since that moment, there's been a hole in my heart....
Laced with regret and sorrow her small chuckle sounds.
Voice: ....Shot through the heart... Damn did I give love a bad name or what?
The fingers continue to play beautifully despite the right hand stiffening up slightly every now and then, indicating pain from an old injury in the players wrist that still plagues her.
Voice: I got the letter months ago, but I'm not sure if I should come back.... if I deserve to come back. There's pain attached to this old name of mine, pain that some won't ever let me forget, try as I might. The years that have passed since that day were hard and bitter pills, one after the other that I swallowed. I got older and wiser, though no better. There's part of me saying, come back darling, it can't be that bad. Then there's that other half telling me to stay my ass in my own lane and don't dare tempt fate. You've got it good where you are now.
The camera suddenly shifts to a side view of a silhouetted woman's profile, still playing the guitar. The most we can tell is that she has a spikey, punk style haircut, blond in color, but little else can be made out beyond that vaguely familiar shape of her face.
Voice: Play it safe or play The Rebel? That is the million dollar question, ain't it? Nobody's ever achieved their dreams playing it safe did they. We'll just have to see won't we?
She stops playing the song and looks directly into the camera. The filter lifts to reveal color as the lights suddenly come on in the dark walled room to reveal Melinda Rhodes staring back at the camera. As with all of us, one can see the mark of time upon her and yet in her eyes there is intensity and fire that has yet to be snuffed out. Though aged, she looks to be in the best fighting shape of her life. There are no words as she stares at the camera in silence before the scene fades to black.
Voice: It's been a long.... long time since I've spoken to this side of the wrestling world. It felt like an eternity since I'd been here and held for a fleeting moment, a symbol of actual accomplishment on the biggest stage of them all.... E...W...C. I got a letter from my old friend, Danny. I remember how heartbreaking my fall was for us both.... The tears in my eyes combined with anger and absolute venom in my heart. I remember screaming to the heavens, not realizing then that every bit of my pain and sorrow was my own damn fault. Entitled minds tend to be blind to such things as fault and reason. Some say I never truly recovered, that ever since that moment, there's been a hole in my heart....
Laced with regret and sorrow her small chuckle sounds.
Voice: ....Shot through the heart... Damn did I give love a bad name or what?
The fingers continue to play beautifully despite the right hand stiffening up slightly every now and then, indicating pain from an old injury in the players wrist that still plagues her.
Voice: I got the letter months ago, but I'm not sure if I should come back.... if I deserve to come back. There's pain attached to this old name of mine, pain that some won't ever let me forget, try as I might. The years that have passed since that day were hard and bitter pills, one after the other that I swallowed. I got older and wiser, though no better. There's part of me saying, come back darling, it can't be that bad. Then there's that other half telling me to stay my ass in my own lane and don't dare tempt fate. You've got it good where you are now.
The camera suddenly shifts to a side view of a silhouetted woman's profile, still playing the guitar. The most we can tell is that she has a spikey, punk style haircut, blond in color, but little else can be made out beyond that vaguely familiar shape of her face.
Voice: Play it safe or play The Rebel? That is the million dollar question, ain't it? Nobody's ever achieved their dreams playing it safe did they. We'll just have to see won't we?
She stops playing the song and looks directly into the camera. The filter lifts to reveal color as the lights suddenly come on in the dark walled room to reveal Melinda Rhodes staring back at the camera. As with all of us, one can see the mark of time upon her and yet in her eyes there is intensity and fire that has yet to be snuffed out. Though aged, she looks to be in the best fighting shape of her life. There are no words as she stares at the camera in silence before the scene fades to black.
