"The Hands of Time" [CWC #1] Julius Fristik
Jan 13, 2022 1:53:44 GMT -5
BRAVE1, theshootfighter1963, and 1 more like this
Post by Jesse Jamester on Jan 13, 2022 1:53:44 GMT -5
“How fitting…”
Holding a bag in his hands, Julius Fristik stands before the dining room table in his dad’s Calgary home.
“I never thought I would be one to follow in his footsteps. Hell, I never thought I would return to wrestling after the attack from Spike Kane. Here we are though. To new beginnings?”
Reaching into the black silk bag, Julius begins to pull out whatever contents it has inside — when his dad comes walking through the front door.
“What’cha doing right now? I need a hand.” bellows Jesse as though not asking but expecting Julius to follow him; Jesse walks down the hallway to the right of the dining room and opens a door leading to the basement.
Obliging, Julius sets the bag down on the table and proceeds to follow his dad’s trail of commotion down the steps to the basement. The charm of the Calgary home was present in the woodworking that Julius walked past to find Jesse.
From the handrail of the stairs, the support beams with carved details that ran their length, to the multitude of shelves, cabinets, and even a fireplace mantle in the basement common area. Julius navigates through the multitude of rooms before coming to an open door that leads to a pull-in garage on the far right back side of the house.
This basement garage was a workshop for the Canadian Nightmare, instead of a storage area for his truck. Tool boxes and a homemade workbench that had seen heavy usage was lit by fluorescent LED lighting. Walls cluttered with tools on peg boards, items hanging from the ceiling, and various other miscellaneous purposeful devices that Jesse had collected in his life.
“Aye, grab that over there,” says Jesse as he tinkers with an item on the workbench and gives zero direction as to what ‘over there’ meant.
Already confused by the request and unsure, Julius sees a toolbox and picks it up, placing it on the workbench near Jesse. Getting a closer look at what all the fuss was about, Julius sees his dad tinkering with an old wooden clock.
“What are you doing?” Julius asks, unsure if the question registers as he glances down at the clock and then back to his dad’s face. Jesse was in tunnel vision mode, not quite hearing his son’s question but the auto-pilot response came.
“Fixing this. Find the needle nose pliers for me,” Jesse replies without looking up.
Using a flathead screwdriver, Jesse begins to try and wedge open the back of the clock.
“Okay. Why not just buy another one? This thing is ancient anyway,” exclaims Julius as he pulls the needle nose pliers from the toolbox.
Stopping for a moment, Jesse turns the clock around and lays it on its edge, showing the initials of 'JF' in a heart with a date that had nearly faded away under it. Looking up at Julius, Jesse pauses, realizing the teaching moment.
“Your mother bought this for us, oh, I don’t remember how long ago. This was the first thing she bought at a yard sale when we got our first apartment together. I thought I lost it until today,” explains Jesse, who’s blue cold eyes show the feeling of the memory he was reliving as he told this story.
“Oh…” quietly replies Julius, realizing right away what that probably meant to his dad.
“Sure, I could buy a nice new fancy tinker-ma-bob, but it wouldn’t be anything but a thing I owned. You see son, it’s not about what you have, but how you take care of it. Your body for instance, it’s your life blood - it’s what makes you and myself a living in this business, right?” rhetorically Jesse asks, to which Julius nods in agreement.
“If you take care of your body now, you’ll last a lot longer in this business than most guys do. Trust me, I went the opposite way, and I feel it every day,” Jesse matter-of-factly states.
“I know dad, I don’t want to be a copy-cat of who you are. No offense, I’m proud to be your son, and the respect the locker room gives me by association is, well, strange at times… but the point is, this Cruiserweight Cup is my chance to make my own name, my own platform to stand on. My body is my priority. It’s why I took the extra time to rehabilitate after the attack that put me in the hospital. I feel like I’m soaring towards the horizon of something I can call my own – for the first time,” responds Julius with conviction to his father.
“So, go do it. I’m not going to hold your hand kid, you gotta blaze your own trail and I respect that. That was my hope for you from the day we started training,” says Jesse.
“I also (pauses) don’t want you to help me. No matter what, I want you to let me do this on my own. Promise me that you won’t get involved, please?” Julius asks, as he looks his dad dead in the eyes.
Rubbing his beard in a moment of contemplation, Jesse tilts his head side ways as he half shrugs.
“Sure thing,” responds Jesse.
“Promise,” Julius says sternly, feeling the response was half-hearted.
“Fine… I promise. I don’t like it, but you are your own man. I will respect your wishes,” says Jesse.
“Good. This James Knight guy is something else. His work is incredible, super fluid, and I know it’s going to take everything I have and then some to find a win in night one of the Cruiserweight Cup. I feel good about my preparations, but knowing you believe in me, sends it over the top. Thanks dad,” says Julius.
The father and son duo go back to the clock and begin tinkering away as the scene fades.
Holding a bag in his hands, Julius Fristik stands before the dining room table in his dad’s Calgary home.
“I never thought I would be one to follow in his footsteps. Hell, I never thought I would return to wrestling after the attack from Spike Kane. Here we are though. To new beginnings?”
Reaching into the black silk bag, Julius begins to pull out whatever contents it has inside — when his dad comes walking through the front door.
“What’cha doing right now? I need a hand.” bellows Jesse as though not asking but expecting Julius to follow him; Jesse walks down the hallway to the right of the dining room and opens a door leading to the basement.
Obliging, Julius sets the bag down on the table and proceeds to follow his dad’s trail of commotion down the steps to the basement. The charm of the Calgary home was present in the woodworking that Julius walked past to find Jesse.
From the handrail of the stairs, the support beams with carved details that ran their length, to the multitude of shelves, cabinets, and even a fireplace mantle in the basement common area. Julius navigates through the multitude of rooms before coming to an open door that leads to a pull-in garage on the far right back side of the house.
This basement garage was a workshop for the Canadian Nightmare, instead of a storage area for his truck. Tool boxes and a homemade workbench that had seen heavy usage was lit by fluorescent LED lighting. Walls cluttered with tools on peg boards, items hanging from the ceiling, and various other miscellaneous purposeful devices that Jesse had collected in his life.
“Aye, grab that over there,” says Jesse as he tinkers with an item on the workbench and gives zero direction as to what ‘over there’ meant.
Already confused by the request and unsure, Julius sees a toolbox and picks it up, placing it on the workbench near Jesse. Getting a closer look at what all the fuss was about, Julius sees his dad tinkering with an old wooden clock.
“What are you doing?” Julius asks, unsure if the question registers as he glances down at the clock and then back to his dad’s face. Jesse was in tunnel vision mode, not quite hearing his son’s question but the auto-pilot response came.
“Fixing this. Find the needle nose pliers for me,” Jesse replies without looking up.
Using a flathead screwdriver, Jesse begins to try and wedge open the back of the clock.
“Okay. Why not just buy another one? This thing is ancient anyway,” exclaims Julius as he pulls the needle nose pliers from the toolbox.
Stopping for a moment, Jesse turns the clock around and lays it on its edge, showing the initials of 'JF' in a heart with a date that had nearly faded away under it. Looking up at Julius, Jesse pauses, realizing the teaching moment.
“Your mother bought this for us, oh, I don’t remember how long ago. This was the first thing she bought at a yard sale when we got our first apartment together. I thought I lost it until today,” explains Jesse, who’s blue cold eyes show the feeling of the memory he was reliving as he told this story.
“Oh…” quietly replies Julius, realizing right away what that probably meant to his dad.
“Sure, I could buy a nice new fancy tinker-ma-bob, but it wouldn’t be anything but a thing I owned. You see son, it’s not about what you have, but how you take care of it. Your body for instance, it’s your life blood - it’s what makes you and myself a living in this business, right?” rhetorically Jesse asks, to which Julius nods in agreement.
“If you take care of your body now, you’ll last a lot longer in this business than most guys do. Trust me, I went the opposite way, and I feel it every day,” Jesse matter-of-factly states.
“I know dad, I don’t want to be a copy-cat of who you are. No offense, I’m proud to be your son, and the respect the locker room gives me by association is, well, strange at times… but the point is, this Cruiserweight Cup is my chance to make my own name, my own platform to stand on. My body is my priority. It’s why I took the extra time to rehabilitate after the attack that put me in the hospital. I feel like I’m soaring towards the horizon of something I can call my own – for the first time,” responds Julius with conviction to his father.
“So, go do it. I’m not going to hold your hand kid, you gotta blaze your own trail and I respect that. That was my hope for you from the day we started training,” says Jesse.
“I also (pauses) don’t want you to help me. No matter what, I want you to let me do this on my own. Promise me that you won’t get involved, please?” Julius asks, as he looks his dad dead in the eyes.
Rubbing his beard in a moment of contemplation, Jesse tilts his head side ways as he half shrugs.
“Sure thing,” responds Jesse.
“Promise,” Julius says sternly, feeling the response was half-hearted.
“Fine… I promise. I don’t like it, but you are your own man. I will respect your wishes,” says Jesse.
“Good. This James Knight guy is something else. His work is incredible, super fluid, and I know it’s going to take everything I have and then some to find a win in night one of the Cruiserweight Cup. I feel good about my preparations, but knowing you believe in me, sends it over the top. Thanks dad,” says Julius.
The father and son duo go back to the clock and begin tinkering away as the scene fades.
