click+here+to+post+the+FINAL+DRAFT+OF+SIBLING+RIVALRY

5th Draft
The day was bright but you could see a storm approaching. Christopher hurried through the busy street market. As he passed through the market the girls on the left started giggling and trying to act cute but the girls on the right saw his big scar from the side of his almond shaped brown eye to the start of his blonde hairline. The truth was that all the girls in town loved him but they were always surprised by his unusual scar. Rumors were that he and Rose were getting married in only months but no one was certain. “ May I have the white lilies, please, how much for them,” Christopher asked the merchant. “ Indeed, two pounds,” said the merchant happy for the business. “ I’ll take them, thank you,” replied Christopher handing the money to the man. He continued walking through the streets of London. He finally got to the only house he had waited to see all day. The one with big windows and gables.Rose had lived there for a long time, she shared the house with another family, the Williams. When he got to the front door it was slightly open, perhaps she is already waiting for me Christopher thought excitedly as he went in. When he got to Rose’s main room he was shocked. His fiances body lied on the floor with burn marks form head to toes. Christopher panicked but did not quite understand what was happening. He tardily came to realize Rose was in trouble, in a very deep trouble, one she would not recover from. Still shocked his eyes began to form tears but he was determined to find out if she still had a chance to survive. In a thrifty manner he kneeled next to his true love, he checked the vital signs, she was not breathing but her heart was beating weakly. Frantically he shook her not knowing what to do he was desperate and nervous. Slowly, Rose's eyelids began to open and close swiftly, she was barely alive. And her last words " Livingston, Livingston..." Christopher screamed in terror and pain as the true feeling of hate dominated his whole soul. He placed his gentle hand on her heart just to feel the last heart beat of Rose. The Williams family rushed in the room and started crying the same way Christopher was. Christopher was in a state of shock, part of him was defeated and frantic of what had just happened, the other part of him thought nothing of that was really happening. Interrupting his thought Rose’s maid Marie walked out of the storage closet with a pale face and trembling body. " Livingston was here, he killed her with his his... lasers I’m deeply sorry I wasn’t capable of stopping him," Marie mumbled trembling. Christopher did not know what he was doing but he reached for her and hugged her as if she was his mother. He thought of when he was little, when he and Livingston curled up against their mother when they were scared. Marie didn’t move because she too needed comfort. Christopher took a step back needing to come back to reality and help Rose “ Someone get a doctor,” he pleaded as he tried to shake Rose awake. “ I’m sorry their is nothing anyone can do now the laser burns are too bad and it seems as she was beat up to, I am truly sorry,” the doctor said when he got there. He couldn't believe what just happened. Christopher walked in grief, pain and madness with many questions crossing his mind, this is not the ending he thought as he continued to walk thinking of his demon possessed brother. Christopher didn’t know where to go or what to do, in that moment he looked at the sky and thought of his kind friend, Father Mckinley. He walked slowly and carefully as if the ground was made of fragile glass.

Scene three, Miranda de Beer, Fifth draft
The birds sang a sad tune as Christopher walked toward St. Elizabeth’s Church, in the heart of downtown London. The shops and restaurants were buzzing with action, but no one seemed to notice Christopher’s pain. He was still in shock because of Rose, and his heart felt empty. Tears started to form at the thought of Rose, but he wiped them away with his crisp, white sleeve. He looked down toward the cobblestone street, and chose a small peddle to kick around. On his second kick, the peddle fell in a drain, and Christopher kept walking, a little faster. He was eager to get to the church. After what seemed like 100 years, he stopped and looked up at the grand church, and reluctantly started to drag his feet up the old stone steps. Gargoyles looked at him with sympathy, as if they knew what happened. Father McKinley was outside, gazing at the fall breeze. He greeted Christopher, his old, tired eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled, “Christopher, my boy. How are you, son?” “Not so good, Father,” Christopher whispered as they walked into the church, and Christopher saw men muttering prayers to themselves. The sun was setting, and the few that lived at St. Elizabeth’s were getting ready for nighttime. They stepped farther into the church, and Christopher smelled the smell of old oak wood, the calming smell of his childhood days when he and his friends used to go to church. Spider webs hung from the rafters, and swayed when the colossal doors shut. Christopher cleared his throat and started, “Father, it’s my brother Livingston. He… he… killed Rose. She’s dead,” he choked back a sob, tears starting to form at the edge of his eyes, “I don’t know what could have compelled him to do this. I know he’s probably, well not probably, but angry at me for not being there for him and mother when she was sick, but that was a long time ago!” Christopher stopped for breath, and went on again, “But to go as far as killing my fiancé, I don’t know what has gotten into his brain!” Christopher held his breath for a second, and then let it go. He let his head hang down, and his eyes could not hold back the tears any longer. A single tear fell to the floor, and made a plop. Father McKinley handed Christopher a handkerchief, and sat, as he motioned for Christopher to join him. He refused. Christopher went on, “I don’t know what to do. Rose was my whole life, and Livingston took it away,” he started to get angry, but he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued, “Livingston, well, he’s just a horrible person. Have you ever heard of something as bad as this Father?” “Well, no, Christopher, but some people are always angry, and do horrible things. But they have no respect in the eyes of the Lord,” replied the Father, looking at the altar as he said this. He pressed his shirt down, and squirmed a little on the pew. His deep voice went silent, and Christopher went on, “Father, have you even got a glimpse of Livingston lately? Well of course not, Christopher, of course he hasn’t. Why would Livingston come here…?” he went on muttering. “Actually, son, I have. He came to me… a different being. His soul was ripped out of his body by a demon. He has no compassion, no sense of being, no emotion anymore, except for anger. He is barely recognizable. He, he’s not Livingston, the sweet little boy with corn on his lip, but Livingston-,” the Father said this with a snarl, “the soulless demon with no heart. His goodness has left him. He told me it started when your mother passed those many years back; he felt a change in him. He came to me about two or three weeks ago.” “A- a demon? But, but how?” “Demons work by finding someone with a lot of pain. They then go into that person’s body, slowly first, then faster with time, and take over their brain and soul. But the demons come and go, like mood swings. Their purpose is to destroy any sort of loving feeling. They go as far as killing their human’s loved one,” the Father said this with hand motions. “But will he go back to being himself?” Christopher questioned. “Yes Christopher. He can. You just need to forgive him. His demon cannot handle love. Only hate. That’s why they destroy love. But if you show Livingston loving forgiveness, the demon will not be able to handle it,” the Father informed him. “What are you telling me? To forgive the monster? Livingston is no brother of mine anymore! I don’t care about any demon that’s “possessed” him! Livingston //is// the demon to me,” Christopher spat, and he started to pace. “But, Christopher, the demon takes over Livingston completely, so there is no aspect of Livingston left! What he did to Rose was not his choice! Just forgive him, and everything will be OK again. Livingston will feel no pain anymore once you do, so the demon will either die within him, or it will have no choice but to leave,” “I said no! I don’t care if it’s him or not, I just can’t!” “But you //have// to Christopher! You are the only one who can fix him! Do it, boy! It’s for your brother! Your best friend!”


 * Scene Three, Rumiko Inoue, Fifth Draft:**

Cristopher's legs struggled to climb up the wooden stairs of the entrance of Saint Elizabeth's church. His eyes were swollen and he wailed as tears rolled down his cheeks. The vivid image of the lifeless Rose was invading his mind and he could still hear the last whispers of her while a huge fear enveloped him. As the fire lit inside the church, the warm heat rushed and crept inside his woolen coat. Hurrying his way inside the empty church, unsteadily, Cristopher lost his balance but Father McKinly had caught him just in time. "Well, what happened to you son?" Father McKinley asked, scrunching his fury white eyebrows. He gazed at Cristopher in a concerned way, and led him to a bench. "I...I" he stuttered, as sweat trickled his crimson cheeks. He himself didn't know what was happening, and wished it was all a nightmare. "I don't know, Father." Father McKinley nodded his head, and started, "How was your day, son?" As expected, he saw Cristopher trembling. He began to sob, with a stunned expression, and grasped on to Father McKinley's soft cloak. "I don't know! I told you so already!" Cristopher yelled, his eyes wide open like an owl. His fist clenched tightly, and Father McKinley squinted by the huge force of his. "Why do you ask me? Ask Lord whatever you want. He'll tell you because Lord loves you, but what has Lord given to me?" He paused, horrified and exhausted of everything. "Nothing but a foolish brother that..." "That...?" Father McKinley questioned, and felt relieved as Cristopher let go of him. "Rose... Rose!" Cristopher hollered, and banged his fist on the bench, shaking it vigorously. The mention of her name had made his throat choke, and him to burst into anger. His flesh became bright red, and the veins on his forehead popped up, as if any moment it was going to break apart. "He took away Rose! He stole my fiancee! Killed her! I... I don't know what do do anymore." His mind was jumbled up and was completely blank. The little brother he had known up till now was a caring and cheerful person, and Cristopher couldn't imagine even a speck of him doing what he have done. Longingly, he stared at the crinkled eyes of the priest, hoping to hear an answer. "Say, son, what happened to your mother?" Father asked, with a worrisome face. The question hit Cristopher, and a pang of guilt strike him suddenly. "What has mother got to do with all this!" he yelled, and grabbed on to Father's neck, tears welling up. "Don't ask me anything! I dont' know anymore! I know nothing." "Son,,," sobbed Father, starting to feel light headed. "Let me explain it to you, but please let me go..." Cristopher stared at Father McKinley, bewildered at his own hands clenching tightly on Father's neck. The Father choking for air slowly became replaced by the face of his own Rose suffering, that he helt chills running down his spine. With shaky hands, he hastily loosened his grip. "I saw Livenston with my own eyes..." The Father muttered, and every now and then, he would make sure no one was aroung. "He had given up on goodness since the day of the death of your mother, and lost his soul to a demon..." This was all news to Cristopher, and his tense body, froze into position. He began regretting for what he did, and was concerened now that Livenston was not the whole cause of Rose's death. "Father..." He started but nothing came out, and cried out desperately.

FIFTH DRAFT “Well thank you father for your speech. I must go home now.” Christopher got up when suddenly something blocked his path. The air in the church seemed to turn cold as a slow movement of the shadow walked towards the two men. The men were in the front of the church before the massive cross. “Well well, who do we have here?” said a raspy voice. The sound made echos and the dome that once showed light darkened by the approaching dark shadow. It loomed over the two men. “Livingston? Oh, my god.” murmured Christopher. His face went pale and he crouched away in fear. “Ha! Brother, I thought you were more braver than that, and for what you did.” smirked Livingston. He was not only taller than everyone else, but he somewhat looked like an evil demon. His clothes were ripped in many places and his shirt was stained with wet blood. Livingston followed Christopher’s gaze and saw that he was staring at the wet blood. “Hahaha! You see this? Do you recognize whose it is? I’ll tell you. This is your dear Rose’s blood!” Laughed Livingston. Christopher’s rage escalated and he stood up slowly with deadly eyes. Then with a loud shout Christopher charged at Livingston. “Oops! You missed.” Christopher fell to the ground because of all the force he had put in to kill Livingston. His own brother killed his fiance and now he had to take revenge no matter what. Livingston thought of having his own brother charge at him when it was his brother’s fault made him angry. “How dare you! You should be kneeling in front of me right now!” A demon voice that was much louder than a normal human voice. The demon seemed to crawl into Livingston’s outer skin and turned dark purple. The now demon grew bigger and now massive, claws sprouted from his fingers. The demon’s feet were immense and his eyes popped veins. He bellowed in rage and charged at Christopher. Meanwhile, the priest stood there not knowing what to do. His eyes were wide in fear and words could not be formed with his mouth. Livingston grabbed Christopher by the neck and pulled him up until Christopher’s face turned pink, purple, and then blue. But inside the demon was Livingston, and seeing his brother suffer made him think of all the flashbacks when they both were young and they were having the best times of their lives. The fingers that was choking Christopher let go and he fell on the ground gasping for air. “Why!? Why were you not there when I needed you the most?” his voice was hurt. “Brother, I am sorry. Please, forgive me. I will make it up somehow.” his weak voice sounded in the church. “NO! You can never make up for that! Mother is DEAD!” Spit flew from Livingston’s mouth as the demon took place again. He stood up and his red eyes were bulging out of its sockets. “B-br-brothers. The L-lord with f-forgive. P-please, L-Livingston, come here and pray with m-me.” The priest stammered as his heart pounded in his ears. “Priest! You shall die first!” A voice that was no long Livingston’s shouted as he took out his laser pen. The pen looked old fashioned and the rusty edges were out of color. But in the hands of the demon, the pen turned purple from the heat the demon emitted. “The Lord shall forgive! The Lord shall forgive!”cried the priest as he kneeled on the ground, sobbing. Livingston pulled the trigger and the priest fell to the ground with a large smack. The priest was on the floor with his last cry of prayers etched upon his face. “NOOO!!” Christopher shouted. “Don’t worry, brother. You are next” The demon voice was raspy and it was not a normal voice. It was louder than with every word it hurt your ears to hear. The pen was pointed at Christopher and Christopher closed his eyes awaiting death. It was okay, he would meet mother and Rose. Then he could apologize. His heart pounded in his head and he could imagine the hot laser that would go through him. Chritsopher opened his eyes just in time to see Livingston leaving the church. Outside, the demon had left Livingston and he cried because he could not possibly kill his own brother. Not yet.

Scene five, Kevin Merrigan Fourth darft
Christopher waited a couple of minutes to make sure that Livingston was not going to come back in to the church to finish him off. Christopher stared down at Father McKinley’s crumpled body lying on the marble floor. To Christopher, this image looked wrong to him in a holy church. Seeing the lasers that had pierced Father McKinley, by going through his clothes and making a bloody hole and stain, he was shocked. His eyes were wide open in terror. Then a blinding light came through the stained glass window in the center of the church. Its light shined on Father McKinley’s body, like God was coming down from heaven to take his body away. Christopher stared up to see what the light was, and it turned out that it was the rays of the sun that was setting at the horizon. Christopher then decided that he had waited long enough that Livingston would not be around anymore. Christopher then started to jog to his house, recalling all the things that had happened. Thinking to himself, Christopher thought about all that he had done. He thought of how he had left his sick mother to die. Also he thought of all the other deaths of the people he most cared about too. Although, Christopher was praying to himself about all the things he had done wrong, his mind told him that praying does not solve all the bad things you have done. As God knows, Christopher thought to himself, that his life would be a lot different if he had just stayed home and helped his mother. Finally Christopher reached his house with these dreadful thoughts. It was a small house; only one story high. It was painted in pale white; most of the paint was wearing off. You could smell the wood rotting from outside the house. Christopher then took a step toward the front door on the porch and opened the door. The door creaked as Christopher went inside. As soon as Christopher entered his house, he went into the kitchen. There was anger building up in him. His hand was closing up into a fist. Christopher couldn’t take it any longer. He then unleashed his wrath and all of the sudden kicked at the table where he ate and it slammed to the floor. Christopher then opened a cabinet and pulled out plates and threw them to the floor, shattering the plates into smithereens. Then he grabbed the red, soft curtains by the window and tore them apart. Next, he lifted one of the kitchen chairs and threw it out the window, hearing the window shatter. He was cussing all the worst words that mankind has ever known. After an hour or so, the house was unrecognizable; it looked like an elephant had stampeded the house. The door was hanging open by one hinge, all the windows were cracked or broken, book pages were flying around the house because of the wind blowing in the house, coming through the broken windows, and last of all, there was broken picture of Christopher and his family all together. You could also smell the fowl scent of alcohol in the air from the broken wine bottles. Tears came to his eyes when he finished going berserk in the house. Christopher then decided that he needed whisky to drink. Hoping that a bottle of whisky would make him feel better, Christopher slowly advanced towards the basement, reaching his hand desperately, looking for a whisky bottle in his whisky collection. As soon as Christopher got a hold of the whisky bottle, he consumed all in that very minute. The world started moving around him, Christopher, who was hiccupping and could barely walk two steps without falling to the floor, lied down on the messy ground for a moment to think what to do. For now, Christopher would probably want to get away from his ruined house. He then thought that he should go visit his mother’s grave. Maybe he thought that he could get an idea of what to do next. It was hard for Christopher to get there, because first of all he was feeling very tired. Second of all, sliding on the ground was slow going; he couldn’t walk. Thankfully the cemetery was close. Christopher was crawling like a spider. Every person who passed by Christopher on the old street, gave him odd glances. One gentleman with a top hat in a very expensive suit, tall, elegant and holding a cane walked past Christopher. The gentlemen then commented to Christopher, “How dare a filthy rat crawl down in front of me!” The gentlemen then went past Christopher and kept muttering to himself bad comments about Christopher. Christopher was quite annoyed that everybody either kept staring at him, or ran away from him or commented how rude it was for a person to crawl on the streets. Finally after a horrible time crawling on the street, hiccupping as he went, Christopher made it to the cemetery. When Christopher reached the cemetery, it was nearly pitch black outside. He shivered when the wind blew against his back. All you could hear in the cemetery was the crows saying, “Caw, caw, caw,” with their noises fading away in the wind, which was blowing as if a tornado would come. At the cemetery stood a few hundred, old bright white pedestals sticking out of the ground. When Christopher was scanning the area for his mother’s grave, he found his mother’s grave which had a few roses in front of the pedestal, which were put there at the funeral a few weeks ago. Christopher started moving toward the grave were his mother laid buried. Choking, Christopher approached his mother’s grave, sobbing with every approach he made towards his mom’s grave. “It is your fault Christopher! None of this would have happened if you were with your brother helping to take care of your mother! Because what you did you cost your girlfriend’s life and Father McKinley’s!” bellowed Christopher, as he started banging his hard on the ground. Christopher then felt a feeling of tiredness in his body, and in nearly a second, he was collapsed on to the cold, marble stone that was in front of the grave of his mom.

Scene 5 5th draft Folke, Arturo, Ivan. Christopher’s mind was blank as he knelled on the church’s marble floor. Father McKinley’s body had a huge gruesome hole from his stomach to his neck. His charred heart was outside of the rib cage. Christopher felt that he had to leave, as the priests body unsettled him. He ran down the steps, ripping his close on bushes, he tripped at the last step and fell, a huge gap was made on his knee. A few people in bell shaped dresses with manacles started at him and walked towards him to offer help. Christopher yelled and ran away from them, with no particular direction in mind. His head boiled and his fingers turned red with anger. //But anger at who?// Christopher thought to himself//.// In the end I guess you could sat that he was mad at himself, but he never really knew who, all he knew is that he wanted to forget everything, he wanted to forget the death of Rose and the death of Father McKinley. At that exact moment an old lady came y. She had white hair and marihuana stained teeth she wore a poncho. The lady neared Christopher smiling from ear to ear so that she looked like Cheshire’s cat. “So young yet he already lost so much,” her voice reminded Christopher of when her teacher scraped her nails on the black board, “do you want to forget whatever it is that has happened to you.” Christopher thought long before answering. “Yes, I-I believe I do.” He answered. He was trying not to sound vulnerable, but it was useless. The lady reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of Scotch whiskey. It’s bronze liquid beamed in the moonlight. Christopher paid the lady and began to drink. By the time his bottle had finished he couldn’t remember his name. He walked towards his house lonely. When he reached it he started to remember everything, the death Rose and of the priests. He didn’t want to remember. Anger boiled in hid veins again. He couldn’t control it any more, he had to let it out. By the time his anger had left his house it looked like an elephant had ran all around it. He realized that he no longer had memories of his own there. He got desperate. What was he to do without nothing to call his own? He ran towards the only place where he could still find some memories, whether they were bad ones or good ones, his mom’s cemetery. He fell asleep as soon as he got there, hanging on to his last memories so that Livingstone couldn’t ruin them.

He suddenly woke up, for a second, he didn't knew where he was, or what time it was. He tried to recaptured what happened, when he realized he got drunk. It was almost midnight, the only light you could see was the full moon high in the sky. Owls began to hoot, the crickets were chirping in the silent night, He felt dizzy and depressed. He couldn’t get out the image of FatherMc Kinley being killed by Livingston, it kept replaying over and over again in his mind. He gave a look on her mother's tombstone and whispered, "I wished I could help my brother." Suddenly, the floor shaked, and cracked open a little bit, and a human-like ghost came. He starred at it, without blinking, and notice it was his mother. His mother looked around the cemetery, and found Christopher, the traitor that didn’t cared about her when she was sick. She walked slowly toward Christopher, and took out a knife. “You traitor, you didn’t even cared for me when i was sick, and after all I did for you,” her voice became more and more desperate, she was angry. She grabbed Christopher from the neck, and pointed the sharp and pointy knife into his neck. “Mom, I’m sorry, I wished I helped you when you was sick, please just forgive me, give me a last opportunity,” tears came running from Christopher’s eyes. As soon as his mother heard those words, she calmed down, let him go, and threw the knife to the ground. “Your brother is possessed by a demon,” his mother said, even though Christopher already knew that. “Mom, I need your help, I can’t find a way to save my brother,” he said in a low voice, while he sobbed. “I can still see goodness in your brother’s heart, but as days pass by, the goodness starts vanishing more and more.” “You’re the only one who can save him.” Said his mother. Her voice was empty. Christopher remained silent, he didn’t know what to do. “The only way to release the demon is by a great act of love, that penetrates the skin, and touches Livingston heart, and wakes him up.” It still didn’t sound convincing to Christopher to save his brother. His mother handed him a photo that she took out from the pocket. Christopher took it, and looked at it, carefully. It was a photo of Christopher and Livingston hugging each other with his mother behind them. Christopher couldn’t hold his tears anymore, and started to cry quietly. He couldn’t believe how their relationship got destroyed. “How can I do an act of love that can save Livingston,” said Christopher, while weeping. “That’s up to you, my dear son,” that were his lasts words, as she started to disappear. He felt alone in the cemetery and confused. He start having dreadful thoughts about saving his brother, and how to do a great at of love that will bring back the Livingston he knew before he got possessed. He got up, gave a last look at the tombstone and walked away from the tombstone. He saw the photo for the last time, and threw it up in the air, where the wind blew it and landed on his mother tombstone. Scene 6 Nicolas Sucre 4th draft
 * Scene 6**
 * Tony Fang Zhang**
 * Fifth Draft**

Christopher woke up dazed and confused. At first he didn’t remember where he was due to the effects of the booze, and so the only recurring memory Christopher had in his head at the moment was the one of the Father being shot by his brother. He stared up into the miserable, spring night sky, where rain drops fell mutely on his face. Christopher begged God for this catastrophe to end now. It was enough already that Father McKinley had to be killed by the horrifying demon that bears the skin of his brother. Plus the death of Rose… his beautiful Rose. His clothes were drenched in the rain and Christopher got up to check for any signs of shelter he can take place in, but when he stood up he saw the giant, grimy, slab of stone that sat in the ground with the letters etched on the stone: "Here Lies Laura H. Henderson"

"Loving Mother and Wife"

"1850-1900"

As Christopher finished reading the engraved text he started to sob upon her grave once again, and he shouted into the midnight abyss of the sky “WHAT AM I TO DO??” When the shout was projected a grave a blinding light of blue and green flared behind the tombstone, and the flare turns into a middle-aged woman that appeared half transparent, and like she had never rested in her life. Christopher was shocked to see this ghost, and even a little bit scared, but he thought of his loving mother many years ago, and then the fear drained at once, and asked the ghost of his mother what to do. "Mother... I have no choice of what to do... my brother has become possessed by rage and revenge, and with every minute I think that he cannot be cured and I have to kill my own brother," Christopher knelled on the specter's grave as he asked these questions "Christopher, my dear child, do not worry about your brother... I have looked into his soul and seen the goodness that is still in it. You must rid the demon from his soul to save him... even if it means putting your life in jeopardy." Her voice was empty, without emotions in it at all. "How? How may I save my brother? I can't do this alone mother!" “The demon in Livingston can only be released by a great act of love from you, something that penetrate the skin of the demon and reach Livingston… even if it means your life for him. It may seem farfetched that you must risk your life for your deranged brother, but he has so much to live for… a young man confused by hate… maybe son… maybe you can…” But his mother was already gone... fading away into the world where she resided. She had left her son weeping once again on her grave. Christopher felt alone... but strangely relieved, for he knew now that he can save his younger brother from the terrible fate of the demon possessing him.

Scene 7 Maria Fernanda Bedoya 4th Draft

As they were talking in the graveyard, he could finally see in her what everybody else used to see; what he had chosen to ignore all those years. The joyful look in her eyes had been replaced with a cold gaze. Her warm hands that had once stroked his hair, and held his hand were now long bony fingers, so fragile looking that he was scared to touch them. And her beautiful long, brown hair was now grey and lifeless. But what hurt the most was that her once perfect smile had turned into just a thin line of nothing.

“Mom… what has happened to you?” Christopher suddenly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “My love, there’s no time, Livingston is hiding in our old home in the outskirts of town, please hurry Christopher, save your brother.” She pleaded “But mom…” but he stopped there, for his mom was ready to part, slowly fading away into the night. “I’ll see you soon my dear son” she whispered, slowly stroking his cheek sending chills down his spine. There was no time to loose; after some preparing, Christopher headed out on his horse, with his nitroglycerine gun in his back pocket; with hope that he would try to save his brother. As he was approaching the house, Christopher realized he really wouldn’t know what to do; would Livingston allow him to help? Would he try to kill him, like father McKinley? Would he come back to his senses at all? All these questions were going through Christopher’s head, making him more and more uneasy as the seconds passed by. Once he arrived at his old house, all the flashbacks from when they were kids were coming back to him now. How he had never given Livingston advice just like an older brother should, how even when his mother asked him too, he never stayed home. All those memories were giving him a feeling of guilt, such guilt that made him feel heavier with every step he took. Just as he was going up the steps of the creaky old house, Livingston crept up behind him, grabbing him by the neck, pinning him down the floor. “What do you want //big brother?//” Livingston grumbled in a demon-like voice “I want to help you” Christopher reluctantly replied “The only thing //you// could help me with, would be bringing mom back, but you can’t can you? No, because you were always a selfish little brat” You could tell by Livingston’s sour tone, that all the anger he felt towards Christopher had been building up throughout the years, but Christopher briskly remember that it wasn’t his twin speaking, but a disgusting demon. But not even all those years of bottled up anger or that nasty demon would have prepared Livingston for what was about to happen. Livingston launched himself towards him, but Christopher was faster and ducked right before his brother’s bony hands could reach him. Slowly, and before Livingston could stand up, Christopher took the nitroglycerine gun out of his pocket and pointed it towards his brother. “What do you think you’re doing” Livingston spit “Doing you a favor” Christopher stammered uneasily, for he didn’t know if he was going to save his brother once and for all. He swiftly pulled the trigger on the gun and a yellow mass of nitroglycerine shot out, going straight for Livingston’s chest. “You really think that with that you’re going to do anything? Do you think you’re going to save your brother with that? The only thing you’re going to do is screw him up… the //only// thing you really know how to do.” But before Christopher could do anything, the ball of nitroglycerine had already knocked Livingston to the ground, leaving him in a motionless state for a few minutes. Picking up his brother from the ground, Christopher started dragging him towards the living room. As he was dragging his brother, he started looking at his features, but the harder he looked the more he could see what the demon had done to him. The tattoo he had recently gotten was of a dragon, big monstrous wings, long scaly tale that ran all along his arm, and red blood-shot eyes that looked like they we’re following him around everywhere he went. The various tattoos that he had around his eyebrows and lip made him look like a completely different person. The thought of his brother being corrupted that way made Christopher want to punch a wall. “Why, did I ever let this happen to you!?” Christopher sobbed uncontrollably His sobs were enough to wake up the demon inside Livingston, making Livingston tackle Christopher to the ground. “Now you won’t be a disturbance anymore...” the demon grinned while taking a laser out of his pocket. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Christopher took out a knife out of his pocket and aimed for Livingston’s neck but missed and stabbed his arm instead. Livingston started bleeding uncontrollably, but the scary part was, his eyes turned white, his lips were instantly dry, and his face was as white as paper. He fell to the ground, and started shaking with violent movements as a figure rose from Livingston’s chest. A dark figure left Livingston’s body and started approaching Christopher, making his knees tremble with every step the creature took. When the creature was almost face to face with Christopher, he remembered the words father McKinley had told him once a long time ago, “When the demon’s host looses blood, the demon is instantly expelled from the host, because demons can’t stand human blood.” “Don’t look so scared, what I’m about to do to you won’t hurt too much” the creature chuckled. “Wha… what are you?” “Your worst nightmare.” And with that Christopher started running, down the stairs and into their old basement. The basement had been a place where Christopher had spent most of his teenage years, drinking and talking with his friends until dawn. Christopher stood there, contemplating his old play room; when the demon burst open the door, sending pieces of wood flying everywhere. “Now… where were we?” the demon chuckled a little more, grabbing Christopher by the neck and picking him up from the floor, his feet dangling three feet above the ground. Taking out his nitroglycerine gun once more, Christopher pulled the trigger, aiming right at the disgusting creature’s chest. Unlike Livingston, the shot only startled the demon, but it was enough for Christopher to kick him and start running even faster outside of the house. “Don’t you understand!? No matter what you do… I’ll find you!” the demon shouted As Christopher’s hand was about to touch the knob, the demon grabbed Christopher by the feet, now his head dangling three feet above ground. “Kill me already, I don’t care anymore, I have lost my mother, my fiancée, my only friend left and now, my brother. Go ahead; I have nothing to live for.” That seemed to impress the cold hearted creature, because he let Christopher fall to the ground with a loud BANG. “I have a proposal for you, kid” the demon grinned from ear to ear.

Scene 7

Erin 4 d raft “I do not have much time left my dear son”, she whispered, “so I will just talk without much delay.” Her spirit grew ever so fainter. Christopher was torn in half. One part could not believe that he was actually looking at his deceased mother. That part was partly drunk. “Livingston is in our old house, in the outskirts of town, but watch your step for he is waiting.” Christopher, now sober, saw that she wished to say more but he knew that her time had come to go back. She gave him a faint kiss on the head, which gave him chills, and her shadowy figure was gone. He was once again left alone in the foggy and dark cemetery, but he no longer felt alone since now he knew his mother was watching over him. He stood up and with some renewed hope and was again determined to change his brother back, since his brother was the only thing he had left. He looked at the sky and saw that a faint beam of light from the moon had escaped the fog. “Even in complete darkness there will always be light” he whispered and then headed back to the town. Christopher knew there would have to be a battle, a battle to see if Livingston would change on his own accord. Christopher also knew that he had to get rid of this evil in the world and save his brother, even if it cost him his own life. He quickly borrowed a horse from the barn, and took a few pistols with him. He rode directly to the abandoned house that used to be his home. Christopher tied the horse on a nearby tree and directed his attention to the house in front of him. As he walked on the front porch he examined the damage of years and years of poor or no maintenance. The white paint was chipped and ripped, the wood could be seen underneath. The smell of damp and wet wood was also in the air. Even though the site horrified him to no end the decaying home also brought him sweet memories from his childhood, times when his mother was alive and his brother was good times when… “So you are finally here to get this over with big brother…” a hoarse voice said from above the roof. Christopher jumped and stared at his younger brother. As he glared, Livingston smirked. “You are not my brother, demon” he spit in a raging voice “you are just using his skin.” “Well, smart aren’t we?” Livingston said in a sarcastic voice. “Though I have to admit you surprised me their…..Christopher” he said, as if the name disgusted him. “I never thought you would make it this far after you know…. what happened to the beautiful Rose” he licked his lips as he said her name, “a shame really.” Christopher couldn’t take it. The moment the name Rose slithered out of Livingston’s pale lips he took his gun and shot at the space were only seconds ago Livingston had been. “Oops, too slow” was whispered in Christopher’s ear before he felt the punch his brother gave him. “Really, Big bro I thought you would be more of a challenge” he muttered, but before Livingston could finish his brother off Christopher kicked him in the stomach, grabbed a knife hidden in his pocket and pointed it at his brothers neck. Livingston smirked, “Come on! Kill me! Finish me off!” Livingston said “But you know that if you kill me in this body your little brother will accompany me to the next world” Christopher stopped in his tracks. He stared at the person in front of him. He couldn’t recognize his brother anymore with that tattoo in his arm and the piercing in his ear; Livingston was also dirty, as if he had slept in the street for days, Christopher grinded his teeth in anger. He raised the knife in his hand and slashed it at his brother’s arm in frustration. Livingston stared at the wound in his arm in surprise then into anger then fell to the ground as if in pain. Christopher took a step back in fear. Livingston started convulsing and screaming while a black gas started fuming from his mouth. Christopher could only stare helplessly not knowing what to do. He suddenly understood what was going on, the demon was coming out. The room turned cold and as Livingston lay motionless the demon turned its red eyes at Christopher and said in an inhuman voice “I am here to give you a deal”

Scene 8 Arianna Sauter 5th Draft

Just when Livingston woke up, he couldn’t find Christopher. He wanted to thank him for releasing him form the horrible demon, Heziah, he had inside him for many years. But Christopher was nowhere to be found. Livingston was desperate to find his brother who let him free. He looked for him in all the rooms in the house. He called everyone which Christopher would go to, but no one had seen him. "Livingston, I'm here next to you, and I will be there every single day. Even if you can see me." Christopher whispered. "Christopher, where are you, where have you gone?" Livingston shouted. "Somewhere you will never go, well I hope you wont go." "The demon took you right, he just wants to suck my life, right. Heziah if you are listen to me, answer this question. Why did you take Christopher and not me, I was the one you wanted to kill. So why didn’t you take me?" "Yes Livingston, Heziah took me, but I was the one who wanted to go. I would do whatever to make you be safe, and not with a demon inside you." "Thanks, but you aren't supposed to be in that horrible place, belief me you will hate it, and you will want to come back. I should be dead right know instead of you being there, so come back and let Heziah kill me." "Never." Livingston didn’t know what to answer, but he felt so bad for what Christopher had done for him. He felt that he had made Christopher's life miserable, and he didn’t mind. But after all, Christopher sacrificed his life for him. Even though he could talk with his brother, but couldn’t see him, he thought that he might see hi if he was connected with God, so he decided to become a priest. He lived most of his entire life being one, and made him stronger throughout his life **<span style="background: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Gabriel M. ** **<span style="background: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Final Draft ** **<span style="background: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Scence 2 **

<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">Christopher was walking down the street, in a cold and snowy winter day, looking forward to having dinner with his beautiful fiancé Rose. They were very joyful together and couldn’t stop thinking about each other. On his way, Christopher stopped by a store to buy some flowers for her. After a while, he approached a small pink house, which’s roof was filled with snow. Very excited, Christopher went up the stairs of the front porch, and found himself very puzzled when the door was slightly open. He held up his frozen finger and rang the door bell. After a couple times of ringing it and no one answered, he decided to go in. The whole living room was a mess, glasses of Rose’s family pictures, were broken on the floor. The shelf, where Rose had her favorite books, was smashed in two pieces. In a matter of seconds, Christopher came to his senses and remembered about Rose. He rushed upstairs, and entered her room with his heart beating rapidly. There he found Rose, lying on the couch with her face pale, and burn marks all over her body. She had scratches all over her neck and her eyes were barely open. Drops of sweat and tears were coming out of Christopher’s body. He dropped the flowers, kneeled down and prayed, hoping that she was still alive. <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"> “Livingston… he was here,” Rose gasped before she dropped dead. <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"> As soon as Christopher heard her, his face turned pale. The desperate man just hugged her and promised her he would get revenge on his brother for what he had done. <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"> The maid, who had hidden in the storage room appeared, and hugged them both. She knew and loved Rose, just as Christopher did. <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"> “ I was lucky enough to hide, I’m so sorry. Your brother came in shouting, looking for you, but you weren’t here. Then he stabbed Mrs. Rose with some lasers.” <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"> Christopher was torn to pieces, he could not believe. Even though it wasn’t his fault, he felt guilt about not being there for Rose. He was desperate and didn’t know what to do. He didn't know if to love or hate his brother.