Sunday, April 25, 2021

Soul, Pages 1-4 (of 4)

PAGE ONE

Panel 1
We’re back at the funeral of Jerome. Now we’re at the cemetery as the casket is being lowered into the ground, and we can see Sonny, Adam Hemingway, Etta Hemingway, Tobias O’Brien, the Duke, even the ten year old girl and her father (off in the distance, naturally), and somewhere near those two, another ten year old, a black girl named Sam Lane...fighting a grown man. This is a large panel that’s nearly the whole page.

Panel 2
A close-up of Adam Hemingway looking, annoyed, in the direction of Sam Lane’s activities.

Panel 3
A hand is being placed on Sam’s shoulder as she looks at it, even though she continues fighting the grown man.

SAM LANE: What the...?


PAGE TWO

Panel 1
The man Sam was fighting runs off.

Panel 2
Sam angrily turning her full attention to, as it turns out, Sonny.

SAM LANE: Now look what you did!

SAM LANE: He’s getting away!

Panel 3
Sonny crouching down to Sam’s level, a look of utter compassion on his face.

SONNY: I see that. 

SONNY: I saw what he was doing, how you stopped him.

SONNY: I was over there. Attending a very important funeral.

SONNY: What’s your name?

Panel 4
A close-up of a doubtful, wary Sam.

Panel 5
Pulling back to see both of them again.

SAM LANE: Sam. 

SAM LANE: Sam Lane.


PAGE THREE

Panel 1
Sonny and Sam are walking through the cemetery now.

SONNY: What’s your story, Sam Lane?

SAM LANE: Orphan. 

SAM LANE: That bum was disrespecting my parents’ grave.

SAM LANE: But you already knew that.

SONNY: I did.

Panel 2
Sonny and Sam sitting in a diner, same day, same clothes. Sam eats hungrily.

SONNY: You held yourself well out there.

SAM LANE: You know how it is.

SAM LANE: Have to.

SONNY: And you seem like a nice kid.

SAM LANE: Thanks.

Panel 3
Same clothes, same day. Now they’re walking down a busy Hun City sidewalk. If it begins to seem like a parallel with the HUN CITY page, that’s probably not a coincidence.

SONNY: Listen, I’m probably stepping well outside the line, but have you ever heard of the Ferryman?

SAM LANE: Sure.

SAM LANE: Where I’m from, everyone has.

SAM LANE: Pretty inescapable.

SAM LANE: Between you an’ me, actually fought him, once.

SAM LANE: Held my own.

Panel 4
Same day, same clothes. Now they’re in the park.

SONNY: You’re an incredible person, Sam Lane.

SAM LANE: Thanks.

SONNY: Sorry, here we’ve been talking all day, and I haven’t introduced myself.

SONNY: Ny name’s Sonny.

SAM LANE: And you want to offer me a job.

SONNY: And impertinent.

Panel 5
Close-up of Sonny.

SONNY: Just like I was.

SONNY: Listen, maybe I have no business doing this...

SONNY: No, I really don’t...

SONNY: He’s gonna be pissed.


PAGE FOUR

Panel 1
Sam standing, same clothes, same day, in front of a scowling Hemingway, now dressed casually, indicating that it is in fact later that day.

Panel 2
Same panel. Hemingway is struggling for words in this moment.

Panel 3
Same panel.

HEMINGWAY: He told you.

HEMINGWAY: He told you everything.

Panel 4
Same panel.

SAM LANE: Well, probably not everything.

SAM LANE: I still have no idea whose funeral that was.

SAM LANE: Sorry for, ah, disrupting it.

Panel 5
Same panel.

HEMINGWAY: You didn’t.

HEMINGWAY: A very important person.

Panel 6
Same panel

SAM LANE: I saw you stare daggers, Mister Hemingway.

HEMINGWAY: Young girl.

HEMINGWAY: You have no idea.

Panel 7
Same panel.

SAM LANE: Oh, I think I do.

Panel 8
Same panel.

Panel 9
Same panel, except now Sam has a huge smile on her face.

HEMINGWAY: This is only the beginning, you understand.

SAM LANE: Sure.

END

Saturday, April 24, 2021

Court Jester, Page 1 (of 1)

PAGE ONE

Panel 1
A grizzly corpse stuffed in a barrel.

CAPTION: Accounts of the Ferryman’s activities tend to be greatly exaggerated.

CAPTION: His “battles with the Court Jester,” for instance.

CAPTION: Tabloid fodder.

CAPTION: Court Jester remains unidentified. Uncaught. At large. A serial killer. His capture, let alone many, wish-fulfillment. His handiwork, the stuff of urban legend. Nightmares, really.

CAPTION: Known only, besides the trail of bodies, by the letters he invariably addresses to the mayor of Hun City...

Panel 2
Hacked up remains in a grave partially uncovered.

CAPTION: “Dear Mayor...”

CAPTION: “I had a vision the other day, of a city filled with dancing people.”

CAPTION: “One could argue, corpses don’t dance, but I say that guy would be no fun at a party.”

Panel 3
A body soaked in blood, stabbed to death in an alley.

CAPTION: “Dear Mayor...”

CAPTION: “We live in a society that has lost its grip on reality.”

CAPTION: “Can I really be blamed for wanting to help things feel just a little more real?”

Panel 4
A corpse with its eyes having been removed.

CAPTION: “Dear Mayor...”

CAPTION: “Every time your laws close in on my activities, I have to find creative new ways to become harder to see...”

Panel 5
A corpse in a crude facsimile of the Ferryman’s costume.

CAPTION: “Dear Mayor...”

CAPTION: “I know he’s not your fault, but could you please do something about the Ferryman?”

CAPTION: “It’s just, he’s always threatening to cramp my style.”

CAPTION: “What I’m saying is, he’s inconvenient.”

CAPTION: “And even if he ends up stopping me, at some point you’re gonna have to stop him, too.”

CAPTION: “Either way, the story remains the same.”

CAPTION: “Yours as a faithful servant,”

CAPTION: “Court Jester”

END


Thursday, April 22, 2021

Hun City, Page 1 (of 1)

PAGE ONE

Panel 1
A crowded city sidewalk during the day. No specific person being pointed out but in the mix is our narrator, a ten year old girl, of Mexican descent, holding her father’s hand. This is, to be clear, a wide shot, so we won’t know, unless everyone’s paying attention, who we’re following until the last panel.

CAPTION: Hun City is like any other city, probably.

CAPTION: I guess what makes it stand out is what my dad calls the urban legend, the Ferryman.

Panel 2
Now we’re in a park, and somewhere in evidence is the same father and daughter. Same rules: a wide shot.

CAPTION: My dad likes to make a game of figuring out, in the newspaper, the articles that would feature the Ferryman, as he says, “ if they were being honest.”

Panel 3
Now we’re in a restaurant, where again, the father and daughter are in the mix, but it’s a wide shot.

CAPTION: He says, “polite society doesn’t talk about such things.”

CAPTION; I guess school doesn’t count as “polite society” because we talk about the Ferryman all the time.

Panel 4
A subway car, with father and daughter, wide shot.

CAPTION: It’s kind of exciting to know the Ferryman is out there.

CAPTION: I mean, I have no idea what he actually does, except my dad says he gets in a lot of fights, and that that’s probably a bad example.

CAPTION: But, you know.

Panel 5
Walking away from the reader, off in the distance, on a sidewalk at nighttime, our father and daughter, holding hands.

CAPTION: I guess the Ferryman has a partner, a boy, about my age?

CAPTION: The story goes, he’s kind of cute.

CAPTION: Of course, nobody knows, and I guess there’s been a bunch of them, but that’s the story.

CAPTION: Maybe someday I’ll find out for sure.

Wednesday, April 21, 2021

The Duke, Page 1 (of 1)

PAGE ONE

Panel 1
Our man Duke, grizzled old police commissioner, shaved head, a toothpick in his mouth, standing on a dark street covered in police tape, alone. For the moment, just outside the taped off area.

CAPTION: The damndest thing is that every one of them thinks I don’t know anything about it.

CAPTION: That all I do is condone the activity.

CAPTION: That I don’t know exactly who each one of them is.

Panel 2
Duke uses a pen to lift the police tape aside so he can duck underneath and have a look.

CAPTION: As he always is, the Ferryman was here first, and last. Make the mayhem, make the ID, mop up the clues my boys missed.

CAPTION: The Ferryman, otherwise known as Adam Hemingway, scion of Nicholas Hemingway, the great entrepreneur.

Panel 3
Duke crouches to look closer.

CAPTION: Then comes Harlot, more chasing the Ferryman than justice. 

CAPTION: Harlot, otherwise known as Henrietta “Etta”Hemingway, sister of Nicholas.

Panel 4
Duke uses his pen again to lift garbage that has blown onto the scene, finding bullet casings underneath.

CAPTION: And finally the new guy, Bandit, last on the scene, preserving the body, apparently, from those who still meant it harm. Leaving evidence unremarked until now.

CAPTION: Bandit, otherwise known as the second Soul, Ferryman’s partner, formerly a black youth, Tobias O’Brien. Previously presumed dead. One-time ward of Adam Hemingway.

Panel 5
Duke jotting notes in a pad for later reference.

CAPTION: The Duke’s journal. Worth little. Maybe. For now.

CAPTION: But at some point, there will have to be a reckoning.

CAPTION: Between this very strange family? The law?

CAPTION: Or with me?

END

Tuesday, April 20, 2021

Bandit, Page 1 (of 1)

PAGE ONE

Panel 1
Sunset with the back of a figure in a blue mask and brown trench coat.

CAPTION: There was a time. Long ago.

CAPTION: When I worked alongside the Ferryman.

CAPTION: But then I died.

Panel 2
Bandit has turned his head around to face the reader, seemingly.

CAPTION: That was twenty years ago.

CAPTION: Twenty long years.

CAPTION: I have nothing but a gap in my memory, between then and now.

Panel 3
Pulling out we see Bandit in the middle of a city street, and confronting him a pack of thugs. He is pulling guns out from under his trench coat.

CAPTION: Nothing but a gap, and pain.

CAPTION: Pain that won’t go away.

Panel 4
In case there’s any doubt, Bandit is going full Red Hood, shooting lethal bullets at his targets.

CAPTION: I’m not here for him.

CAPTION: I could less about the Ferryman.

Panel 5
Bandit standing in a street full of corpses.

CAPTION: Me, I’ve got other fish to fry.

CAPTION: I may have a lot of questions, but that won’t stand in the way of the new purpose in my life.

CAPTION: Finally, my own.

CAPTION: Or something very much like it...

END

Harlot, Page 2 (of 2)

PAGE TWO

Panel 1
Johnny Brisk, long, stringy wannabe rockstar hair, shooting Hemingway Senior & wife, with the young Hemingway watching, in the subway. With them is another woman, Hemingway Senior’s younger sister, shielding the young Hemingway.

CAPTION: I made a crucial mistake.

CAPTION: I saved his life, but I did nothing to protect my brother.

CAPTION: And I will never forgive myself.

Panel 2
Johnny Brisk, decades later, stringy hair thinning, in court, Harlot in her civilian role as DA Etta Hemingway, prosecuting.

CAPTION: Johnny Brisk, having his day in court.

CAPTION: Again.

CAPTION: Appeals are weak justice. But in my private life as DA Etta Hemingway, the Harlot is poised to strike.

CAPTION: Especially him.

Panel 3
Johnny Brisk breaking out of prison.

CAPTION: And when he fails legally, he tries it the other way.

CAPTION: Even worthless lives possess a sense of self-preservation.

CAPTION: Especially Brisk.  Especially knowing his fate.

Panel 4
Harlot seducing Johnny Brisk in an alley.

CAPTION: And the role I chose for myself, the role that makes all men weak, I will use even for him.

CAPTION: Especially for him.

CAPTION: For one night.

CAPTION: For the night, and the lives, he took away forever...

Panel 5
Etta watches alongside Hemingway as Johnny Brisk is executed by lethal injection. Hemingway is the same age we saw him last page. They are not seated together. Etta is watching Hemingway, not Brisk.

CAPTION: I failed my nephew once. 

CAPTION: He will never accept me as an aunt.

CAPTION: As family.

CAPTION: Or in his war on crime.

CAPTION: But I will always be there for him.

END

Monday, April 19, 2021

Harlot, Page 1

PAGE ONE

Panel 1
We see Harlot, who seems like the archetypal comic book superheroine, like a masked hooker, crouching in the shadows of a subway as busy travelers move about their business.

CAPTION: The Ferryman patrols these tunnels.

CAPTION: But I was here before him.

Panel 2
Still in the shadows, Harlot has removed her mask. She’s spotted a well-dressed man surrounded by an entourage of assistants: Hemingway, as he appears in DEAD BUTLERS. This takes place in the aftermath of that story.

CAPTION: I was here when it all began.

Panel 3
Harlot is slipping on an overcoat to hide her costume when she spots an assassin pulling a gun out of his pocket at the periphery of the crowd around Hemingway.

CAPTION: I should have stopped it.

CAPTION: God knows.

Panel 4
Even in his civilian mode, Hemingway doesn’t hesitate to take action. He’s knocking the gun out of the assassin’s hand as Harlot retreats back into the shadows.

CAPTION: He didn’t deserve to become such a hard man.

Panel 5
Harlot has vanished into the shadows except her eyes. Comic book magic. Hemingway is grasping the assassin by the collar, clearly demanding answers.

CAPTION: Poor Hemingway.

CAPTION: My nephew.


Sunday, April 18, 2021

Dead Butlers, Pages 10-12 (Conclusion)

PAGE TEN

Panel 1
There will be no dialogue on these pages. College-age Sonny on the phone.

Panel 2
Jerome is on the other end. He looks wistful. This is in a brightly lit room in Hemingway Manor.

Panel 3
A shot of Hemingway slipping on the mask of the Ferryman.

Panel 4
A shot of a villain, a big burley man in the fashion of Bane, called the Destroyer, in a mask similar to wrestler Psicosis (horns like a bull added).

Panel 5
Jerome rushing through a secret passageway in the mansion,  behind a large Caravaggio. His face is now all business.

Panel 6
Jerome in a darkened room, the Ferryman’s lair, seating himself at a large computer terminal.

Panel 7
The Ferryman chasing the Destroyer through a crowded nighttime outdoor restaurant scene.

Panel 8
Jerome, facing the reader, his face lit up by the screen in front of him, talking.

Panel 9
The Destroyer has eluded the Ferryman, who stands alone on a sidewalk holding his hand to his ear as if listening to instructions.


PAGE ELEVEN

Panel 1
The Ferryman in pursuit of the Destroyer headed down into the subway.

Panel 2
Jerome at the screen as we saw him before.

Panel 3
A shot of Sonny, still holding his phone to his ear, looking shocked, yet being incapable of helping from his college campus.

Panel 4
Jerome’s face turns to grim resolve.

Panel 5
Jerome slipping on the mask of the Insider.

Panel 6
The Destroyer leaping into a subway car, the Ferryman close behind.

Panel 7
The Destroyer knocks the Ferryman out. 

Panel 8
The Insider stands in a subway station as the subway cars race by him, waiting for his opportunity to board.

Panel 9
His opportunity has arrived, and he’s entering.


PAGE TWELVE

Panel 1
The Insider tackles the Destroyer, who dwarfs him.

Panel 2
The Destroyer swats the Insider viciously away.

Panel 3
The Ferryman has swung back into action, having recovered.

Panel 4
The Ferryman stands over the prone body of the Destroyer.

Panel 5
He turns to see the Insider, Jerome, equally immobile.

Panel 6
The Ferryman cradling the unmasked Jerome in his arms.

Panel 7
Hemingway, standing alone inside the mansion, looking very small.

Panel 8
A duster sitting unused.

Panel 9
An empty kitchen.

END

Friday, April 16, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 9

PAGE NINE

Panel 1
Sonny standing beside Jerome, who’s holding a tray, at a crowded party being hosted at Hemingway Manor. (This image repeats in every panel, with conversational variations.) Sonny is older now, a teenager.

SONNY: My good man, how goes the party?

JEROME: Splendidly, Master Sonny.

Panel 2
Same basic image as previous.

SONNY: And the night is yet young, I see.

JEROME: Indeed.

Panel 3
Same basic image as previous.

SONNY: I trust we’ve got plenty of provisions.

JEROME: Certainly.

Panel 4
Same basic image as previous.

SONNY: Enough to last all evening?

JEROME: Enough to last until the end of the world, presumably.

Panel 5
Same basic image as previous.

SONNY: Or what feels like it.

JEROME: If you say.

Panel 6
Same basic image as previous.

SONNY: And this is what you do during all of it.

JEROME: Highly stimulating.

Panel 7
Same basic image as previous.

SONNY: When did you wake up today, Jerome?

JEROME: The question, rather, should be, Did I even get to bed in the first place?

Panel 8
Same basic image as previous.

SONNY: From the...extracurricular activities?

JEROME: From preparation for this alone, Master Sonny.

Panel 9
Same basic image as previous.

SONNY: This alone?

JEROME: This alone.

Thursday, April 15, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 8

PAGE EIGHT

Panel 1
Jerome in the kitchen cutting vegetables. Sonny buzzes around him (as he will in every panel that follows).

SONNY: Whatcha doing?

JEROME: Preparatory work, young master Sonny.

Panel 2
Jerome putting a sandwich together.

SONNY: Whatcha doing?

JEROME: Making your lunch, young master Sonny.

Panel 3
Jerome putting spices into a pot.

SONNY: Whatcha doing?

JEROME: Giving the stew flavor, young master Sonny.

Panel 4
Basting a pheasant.

SONNY: Whatcha doing?

JEROME: Adding moisture to the pheasant, young master Sonny.

Panel 5
Preparing tea.

SONNY: Whatcha doing?

JEROME: It’s the afternoon tea, young master Sonny.

Panel 6
Making macaroni & cheese.

SONNY: Whatcha doing?

JEROME: Much as it pains Master Hemingway, preparing your supplemental dinner, young master Sonny.

Panel 7
Preparing a traditional serving tray.

SONNY: Whatcha doing?

JEROME: Run off to the table now, young master Sonny.

Panel 8
Sonny trails Jerome as he carries the covered tray out of the kitchen.

NO DIALOGUE.

Panel 9
Jerome is cleaning dishes, alone.

SONNY (O.P.): Whatcha doing in there?

JEROME: Magic, young master Sonny. Magic.

Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 7

PAGE SEVEN

Panel 1
A wide shot of the entirety of Hemingway Manor. You may be able to spot the tiny figure of Jerome standing at the front doors. He holds a paper bag in one of his arms. Even if this never becomes clear in the panels, it’s full of cleaning supplies. If this can be demonstrated in some way, all the better. If not, well.

CAPTION: This might be obvious, but let’s just get this statement out of the way.

CAPTION: Mansions are huge.

Panel 2
Pulling in slightly. Jerome becomes easier to spot, as he of course is also at the center of the panel.

CAPTION: They contain a multitude of rooms, of various uses, frequency of use, public and private.

Panel 3
Pulling in further. By now it should be clear that Jerome is in the picture. 

CAPTION: Now, the popular perception is that Jerome was in fact the only butler, the only servant who worked within the walls of Hemingway Manor.

Panel 4
A shot of an expansive dining room, long table, etc., with or without Jerome cleaning inside (same for succeeding panels), though we see the young Sonny playing (in each panel), one example of what needs cleaning, other than the obligatory dusting.

CAPTION: Dining rooms.

Panel 5
A shot of an expansive sitting room (same provisions as previous panel).

CAPTION: Sitting rooms

Panel 6
A shot of an expansive restroom (same provisions apply).

CAPTION: Restrooms.

Panel 7
A shot of an expansive guest room (same provisions apply).

CAPTION: Guest rooms.

Panel 8
A shot of an expansive kitchen (same provisions apply).

CAPTION: Kitchens.

Panel 9
Jerome walking through a hallway with cleaning supplies in hand, Sonny trailing him.

CAPTION: All this, on a regular basis, and all the more when Hemingway Manor hosts a party?

CAPTION: All this and everything else? Alone?

Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 6

PAGE SIX

Panel 1
The young Hemingway and Jerome, as we saw them last panel last page, embracing.

CAPTION: On that fateful night, even though no one ever made it official, Jerome became Hemingway’s father.

Panel 2
Jerome seated beside the young Jerome in the principal’s office at his private academy.

CAPTION: He assumed all the roles of a guardian, even if his title was that of a butler.

Panel 3
Jerome’s perspective at Hemingway’s graduation.

CAPTION: He became the constant in Jerome’s life.

Panel 4
In the study, where a smashed window evokes the famous origin of Batman, although this is the Ferryman, and so for now we will just have to wonder what inspired Hemingway. All the same, Jerome is standing by him as they discuss what has just happened.

CAPTION: When Hemingway made his momentous vow, it was Jerome who listened and offered his thoughts.

Panel 5
Hemingway about to head out to explore the world, suitcase in hand, or rather, at his side as he hugs Jerome goodbye.

CAPTION: Who watched the journey begin.

Panel 6
A bearded Hemingway has returned, hugging Jerome again.

CAPTION: Who watched the prodigal son return.

Panel 7
Jerome observing Hemingway looking at himself in the mirror (evoking the similar panel of Sonny/Soul from earlier) as the Ferryman for the first time.

CAPTION: Who watched him grow into his own man.

Panel 8
The secret origin of Sonny: in a nightclub, Jerome is off to the side as Hemingway consoles Sonny as his jazz-playing parents lie gunned down on the stage.

CAPTION: Who watched him become a father.

Panel 9
Jerome giving Hemingway advice as Sonny stands to the side looking lost.

CAPTION: Who helped him learn what that meant.

Monday, April 12, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 5

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1
Jerome’s father (the aging, balding, traditional-comics-version Alfred) stands beside him as he’s introduced to Hemingway’s father, the mustache-sporting, Jeffrey Dean Morgan version of Thomas Wayne. Jerome is dressed as he was the last panel of the previous page.

CAPTION: For me, Jerome was just always there, but of course there was a first day.

Panel 2
Jerome is getting a guided tour of Hemingway Manor from his father and Hemingway Senior.

CAPTION: The day he saw Hemingway Manor for the first time.

Panel 3
Now it’s just Jerome and his father, looking in at the considerable supply closet of Hemingway Manor, where all the cleaning equipment is kept. His father holds a duster in his hand.

CAPTION: Learned the bare essentials of what the rest of his life was going to be.

Panel 4
Jerome now stands alone in the vastness of Hemingway Manor, looking very small, holding the duster.

CAPTION: As if it was going to be so simple.

Panel 5
Jerome serving tea for Hemingway Senior and wife, who’s noticeably pregnant.

CAPTION: I often wonder if he had even an inkling of what was to come.

Panel 6
Time skips ever onward. Hemingway’s mother holds Baby Hemingway for Jerome to admire.

CAPTION: What he might have thought seeing Hemingway for the first time.

Panel 7
Changing a dirty diaper.

CAPTION: How much his life had really changed.

Panel 8
Skipping ever onward. Hemingway as the boy on the fateful night, dressed up along with his parents as Jerome sees them off on the night everything changes forever.

CAPTION: And how much it was going to continue changing.

Panel 9
Jerome on his knees embracing the grief-stricken young Hemingway later that night.

CAPTION: Somehow I can’t imagine him missing a single beat. The very role he was born to play.

Sunday, April 11, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 4

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1
A teenaged Jerome kissing his parents goodbye outside their family car. It’s tough to pin down a floating timeline, but let’s generally point at the Vietnam War era, so a popular ‘60s British car model, the Morris Minor. Jerome can be distinguished by a dignified look as his emotional mother hugs him, she and his father in their fifties. If you want someone balding in this family, it can be the father, complete with a mustache.

CAPTION: To be honest, I don’t often think of the young Jerome.

Panel 2
Typical boot camp scene of a drill sergeant screaming in the face of one of a long line of recruits. Jerome is staring stiffly ahead. He sports the same dignified look as the previous panel.

CAPTION: For you, going to war meant something entirely different.

Panel 3
On a run with his fellow recruits. Jerome is near if not at the front of the line. Still sporting that dignified look.

CAPTION: Which is sometimes easy to forget. For you, crime fighting might almost be considered a step down.

Panel 4
At the target range, where of course his shooting practice of evidence finds the target with precision as he looks on with that sane detached, dignified manner.

CAPTION: Since you never really talked about it (and, I’m sorry to say, I never asked), I never spent too much time thinking about it.

Panel 5
In a jungle, geared up, having been deployed.

CAPTION: I heard a few stories, like the excursions through Burma.

Panel 6
Though he’s not a medic, Jerome is applying bandages to an injured comrade.

CAPTION: A hero.

Panel 7
Visiting that same comrade in the recovery ward.

CAPTION: As I picture it, I honestly can’t think of anyone I would rather have watching my back in a war zone.

Panel 8
Saluting at discharge in full dress uniform, older, no less dignified.

CAPTION: And somehow you walked away from it in a heartbeat, and turned to entirely different pursuits.

Panel 9
The same age, standing at the gates of Hemingway Manor, his father, aging more rapidly, on the other side, welcoming him to his new life. For the first time we see a different look on Jerome’s face: awe.

CAPTION: Oh, to read a journal of your thoughts...

Saturday, April 10, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 3

PAGE THREE

Panel 1
At last we see Jerome himself. I don’t like the bald Alfred. This is not a bald Alfred. This is the gray-haired Alfred we tend to see in the movies, so he probably looks a bit like Michael Caine. He is standing behind the young Sonny (this is two pages later but of course Sonny can be distinguished from a young Hemingway because he has the signature bang curls of the young Dick Grayson), seated at an actor’s mirror.

CAPTION: When I first came to live at Hemingway Manor, Jerome took me under his wing.

Panel 2
Jerome standing in the wings of a school auditorium stage as Sonny stands in front of an audience.

CAPTION: His favorite thing to tell me, in the early days, was, “Sonny, life’s a stage. We all play our part.”

Panel 3
Sonny in the wings of the stage being embraced by Jerome.

CAPTION: “Sometimes it’s easy to understand our role.”

Panel 4
Jerome handing Sonny a very different kind of costume, Soul’s (as described previously).

CAPTION: “And sometimes it isn’t.”

Panel 5
Jerome admiring Sonny in another mirror, looking at himself dressed as Soul for the first time.

CAPTION: “But the thing is to play it to the best of our ability.”

Panel 6
Jerome watching as Soul walks off with the Ferryman.

CAPTION: “We won’t always be in control.”

Panel 7
Jerome reading a newspaper proclaiming the first public appearance of Ferryman’s sidekick Soul (SENSATIONAL FIND OF THE CRIMEFIGHTING CENTURY!).

CAPTION: “Sometimes we are merely the audience. That’s important to remember.”

Panel 8
An excited Sonny running up to Jerome after a night running around as Soul.

CAPTION: “We are not always the star.”

Panel 9
Jerome handing Sonny, in the same moment, a script book, indicating Sonny still has to memorize lines for the next production.

CAPTION: “But that’s okay.”

Friday, April 9, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 2

PAGE TWO

Panel 1
A handsome young actor kissing a beautiful woman on a movie screen in a darkened theater, with the heads of audience members visible.

CAPTION: To even begin to live up to everything you were, Jerome, it would take a legion.

CAPTION: The actor.

Panel 2
A soldier running through a forest. None of the individuals in these panels should look similar. They can vary in age, ethnicity, skin color, nationality. It’s kind of the whole point.

CAPTION: The soldier.

Panel 3
A young butler servicing his charge.

CAPTION: Butler to Hemingway’s father.

Panel 4
An older butler with a young boy.

CAPTION: Butler to the young Hemingway, a father, really, after the death of his parents.

Panel 5
A butler dusting a large room in a mansion setting.

CAPTION: Caretaker of an entire mansion.

Panel 6
A chef at work in a kitchen. What kind of kitchen and what kind of chef are at your discretion.

CAPTION: Preparer of every meal, for Hemingway, for me.

Panel 7
A butler with a serving tray at a large party of elite guests.

CAPTION: Host to the cream of society.

Panel 8
A man sitting at a computer.

CAPTION: Indispensable assistant to the Ferryman, and Soul, to me.

Panel 9
A dashing full-masked hero, sort of Errol Flynn Robin Hood.

CAPTION: And somehow, the Insider, the hero’s hero, seldom acknowledged.

CAPTION: The very best of us.

Thursday, April 8, 2021

Dead Butlers, Page 1

PAGE ONE

Panel 1
Pallbearers carrying a coffin. At the front are two men, one about forty the other thirty, both with black hair. Floating behind them are their heroic alter egos as kind of specters. The older, on the left, is Hemingway, a.k.a. The Ferryman, a black-costume cowl-with-no-ears version of Batman. The younger, on the right, is Sonny, a.k.a. Soul, a white costume variant of Robin (perhaps similar to what Damian wore when he debuted, complete with the hood attached to the cape).

CAPTION: In all the years I knew him, I’m not sure I ever actually said the words.

Panel 2
Pulling in on Sonny. This is a full body shot.

CAPTION: And for that I feel a terrible shame.

Panel 3
Closer in on Sonny. Perhaps only up to his torso.

CAPTION: “I love you.”

Panel 4
Closer in on Sonny. Perhaps just his face at this point.

CAPTION: “Thank you.”

Panel 5
Closer in on Sonny. Now just an eye.

CAPTION: “You were more of a father to me than he ever was.”

Panel 6
Pulling out again. The eyes are looking to the left as we again see the whole face.

CAPTION: “I don’t know how you ever found the time.”

Panel 7
Pulling out more. Now we see the torso, see that Sonny is seated in a church pew.

CAPTION: “I took you for granted.”

Panel 8
Pulling out more. Now we see Sonny, seated next to Hemingway, who’s facing forward, while Sonny continues to look to his left, in the center of the aisle.

CAPTION: “We all did.”

Panel 9
And so in the aisle, of course, now, we settle on the coffin, alone.

CAPTION: And I honestly don’t know what to make of a world without him in it.

Sunday, April 4, 2021

In the Mouth of the Lion

Believe.

Today I saw something I will never be able to unsee.

Today was another of the circus days. Everyone loves the circus days. Some people argue it’s all just distraction from the stuff that isn’t nearly as fun about life in the empire, but some people are always complaining, and, well, after a while you just learn to tune them out.

Me, I always loved the circus days. The best thing is to find the perfect spot in the stadium, so you can see everything. There’s nothing worse than showing up only to find the only available seating leaves you behind or adjacent to a post. Then you spend all day obsessing over the post.

Today I saw everything. I didn’t really think about posts. I thought about a lot of other things. I’m still trying to process.

I saw a man in the mouth of a lion. It wasn’t the first time. Yeah! That’s the circuses. You will see any and everything in them. It’s what passes for entertainment these days. Death as entertainment! Well, maybe it’s been going on for a while. I don’t know. I never really thought about it until now.

This wasn’t just another man. This was an older man. Amazing how such a simple distinction can change everything.

Later, I asked some questions about him. Usually they don’t really advertise the reasons. I mean, there are executions and then there are the circuses. Two separate things. We all know how you end up in the stadium. It’s no secret. It’s easier to watch when you know it’s never going to happen to you, I guess.

His name was Polycarp. He was one of those Christians. I never understood those people. You hear a lot of stories about them. Most of it is just a lot of gossip, a way to pass the time. I mean, all religions do strange things behind doors. They say Christians are cannibals. That one is certainly memorable. You’d never know to look at one. We get a lot of Christians in the stadium. Maybe I don’t know what a cannibal looks like. The Christians don’t look like what I would expect from one, I guess. They don’t act wild, I don’t know. 

I never really thought about it.

The stories. They say they’ve been around for less than a hundred years. To put that in perspective, it’s been more than a hundred years since Julius Caesar, his assassination. That’s still pretty memorable. There’s always a play about it, during the circuses. The versions always seem to get better. If I lived to see a hundred years, I’m sure I’d see a hundred better versions than I’ve ever seen. It’s just one of those stories.

The stories they say about the Christians, though. Well, it depends where you hear them. The popular histories are pretty dismissive. I mean, these are people at the bottom rung of society. The empire is not exactly going to waste its time tracking all that. The Jews themselves (sometimes it’s easy to forget Christians aren’t Jews), they seem actively repulsed by them. They’re even more dismissive, but probably to distance themselves, an act of self-preservation, which would be smart, considering that even that much is hardly enough to prevent their...involvement in the circuses...

They say we executed the first of them, less than a hundred years ago. Do I have the math right? It’s so hard to tell. Maybe a little over a hundred. Something like that. Very close. Anyway, this Polycarp was involved with them all his life, and he was friends with that first generation, which of course was there when the first of them was executed.

If that clears things.

One of the things I heard was that Polycarp timed his appearance in the stadium to coincide with the anniversary of that execution. The Christians have a name for it, but don’t ask me what. I can barely keep the Jewish holy days straight. If you’re a citizen of the empire, religion means festivals. They’re celebrations. 

The execution was carried out by one of our governors. They say he was a particularly brutal one, and there will always be talk about that sort of thing, justifying it to keep order in the empire and all that. To hear the Christian version of it, because of course now they want to at least sound like friends of the empire, the governor agreed to this execution reluctantly, as if he had no choice, as if the blame were someone else’s. Listen, the empire’s rule is absolute. The Christians can say what they want, believe what they want.

And as I said, they say a lot of things, believe a lot of things. Today, for whatever reason, I decided to listen. Okay, the reason was the old man, Polycarp, in the mouth of the lion.

I began to ask about him specifically. I learned that what I saw was exactly what he wanted. He welcomed it. He made the whole journey from Smyrna, apparently, quite willingly. It was a procession to him! Every stop he made along the way, he greeted his fellow Christians, many of whom made trips of their own to intercept him, never once attempting to avoid his fate, of which he was very clear from the start. 

It baffles me. 

This isn’t just defiance. They say the Christians believe they have a different fate, once they die, that whether as a combination of their faith or their conduct, that death is not the end. They will see something better than anyone living has ever known. I don’t even know what to say about that. Everyone wonders what follows death. Few welcome death itself. Certainly not the death of the stadium.

Yet that’s exactly what this Polycarp did. So I began to wonder. I started listening.

Death is not the end. And I began to wonder, did they expect to just return to life? Did they expect revenge? Did they expect justice for what had happened to them? Did they expect to revolutionize the world?

And then I thought about this man Polycarp again. This life he had led. What he had embraced. This impossible ideal.

And I saw maybe that was the whole point. Perfect selflessness. Impossible. And perhaps, even if terrible, as in the ending, how...sweet.

This was the antithesis of the circuses. This was not entertainment. 

This was life. In the mouth of a lion.

And so I reconsidered the Christians. I thought about the stories I heard. I thought about that execution. I thought about the kind of lives that were lived because of the man who had been executed, not because of the execution itself. The execution itself, what followed it, the anniversary of which this man Polycarp had timed his moment in the stadium to coincide with, perhaps something greater than the best performance of the assassination of Julius Caesar could ever hope to be...

You know, in those plays the key moment is always the betrayal of Caesar’s best friend. To hear the Christians speak of the execution, there’s a betrayal that resulted in that, too, but it’s detached from the moment, and even in the moment, this first of the Christians is said to be forgiving those who made that moment happen.

That’s what it’s all about. That’s what made me think so much about all this. That’s what this man Polycarp, in the mouth of the lion, did to make me rethink everything.

He forgave us. He forgave me

Who does that? A Christian, apparently.

And so I say now, believe. Believe what the Christians say. Believe. They have this figured out, regardless of how bizarre they make it sound. Probably the worst things said about them aren’t even true.

Believe. The most impossible things sound so impossible because they challenge everything. Not people. Ideas. The Christians believe not to aggrandize themselves, but to make a better world, with or without themselves in it. I don’t know. Maybe all this looks very different a hundred, two hundred, two thousand years from now. I don’t care.

At some point the play about the death of Julius Caesar finds its perfect words. But for these Christians, the message will never change. It’s trying to remember what Polycarp commemorated, that’s...

Believe. That’s all I say to you now. Believe.


Saturday, April 3, 2021

The Place of the Skull

Believe.

At this point it was many years ago. Many things have happened since. I was a young man. We were all young.

I was in search of the truth. I guess we all are, and we find our various answers, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much they contradict each other, and how divisive the results, how we can come to hate each other because of them. I found my truth at the Sea of Galilee, from a man who bellowed his every word. Such a man was difficult for some to appreciate, but those who did found him captivating.

The curious thing about him was how he spent all his time talking about someone else. “Someone else” was a common theme in those days. Ours after all was a religion of the future, the belief that some day everything would be better, that we were waiting for that one miracle, the man who would fix everything. 

When the man in the Sea of Galilee spoke like that, however, it sounded different. He spoke of hope, but also of the present day. He didn’t know when it would happen, but he spoke with such confidence, it was difficult not to get caught up in it.

So one day a man appeared, and some of us were quickly convinced that he was exactly who we were waiting for. He spoke with authority, too, but he mostly spoke of impossible ideals, not the established ones, but the kind you’d have to be a saint to embody. We realized the best way to have even conceived of them was to be something greater than even a saint. Some were brave enough to understand the truth of it without even being told.

Well. It’s the kind of truth that sounds impossible. In those days even the Romans were trading faith on the shoulders of their predecessors, a mere act of fealty, a gesture of respect. We had Zealots, and even our band had one of those, fanatics who didn’t believe in compromise, and prepared for every sacrifice.

I say “we” when in fact I was never courageous enough to be included in the closest of circles. Later I consoled myself by saying, this was something of a ripple, and the ripple journeys outward, and it journeys inward.

I was always at the fringes. I was kind of the first of the secondhand. 

Such was the moment of my most famous infamy, what I never talked about with anyone. I was there, you see, at the place of the skull. I saw it happen.

Most of our number had fled like cowards. We reasoned, we would have been executed, too, and the whole thing would have been lost. We had of course abandoned him in his hour of greatest need. He would have said such a sin had been necessary, but we had never been good enough to understand him, when he was living. Not really.

I was there. I saw him hanging. 

I saw from a distance. That was the point of those things, a highly visible phenomenon to act as a warning, so that you maybe thought better of your actions. Later, they did it as entertainment, a different kind of spectacle, to discourage, so you would avoid such a fate, or to humiliate you, cause you to recant in the hour of your death.

They didn’t seem to care if it failed. Eventually, they thought, it would. The candle would snuff itself. The movement would end. 

Ours never fanned, not in the way they so feared. We never took up the sword, the only thing they understood. Our king died, never having claimed his throne. That’s all they saw. I saw it the same way they did. I saw it on the hill. I saw it as the moment all was lost. I saw it as my failure. I saw it as the moment I drifted permanently into obscurity, a name that no one would remember, as if nothing at all had been accomplished.

As if I had never believed at all.

The day after it happened, when the body had already been taken down and laid in the tomb, I had already distanced myself. I saw none of my friends. As far as I was concerned, I no longer counted in their number. I was no better than a stranger. Everyone had done what I did, but I thought I was worse. I hadn’t been strong enough when he was alive, and no better when he was dying.

Then the next day a few of us saw him alive.

I heard about it from idle gossip. Much was made of the paranoid talk, from those who thought we would try to fulfill a prophecy, as if we were clever enough, even from the Romans who with irony went along with the conspiracies. I heard the gossip of tramps, of beggars. Just like those he had done so much, casually, in his revolutionary manner, to see themselves as worth something.

That was what I had become, perhaps what I had always been.

And when I heard, I sought my friends again. I was accepted back as if nothing at all had changed. In fact, I was accepted as a brother. I became counted. 

I can’t really explain any of it. I’m not good enough. But here I say, Believe. Don’t believe me. I’m nothing. Believe what I say. Believe in him. Believe his consequential life, his message. 

Believe.