It began with the forging of the great rings... err.. I mean... It began with bunnies.
Green rolling fields, trees everywhere (think Ireland), and bunnies running about under the morning sun. Butterflies, birds, bees. A rather pastoral scene.
Take a closer look. Enter a circle of bunnies. Holding hands. Dancing. The background music is somewhat celtic, somewhat pastoral (I actually did compose and record this music. will upload when i find it). This is pretty much some sort of Bealtaine celebration. Everybody's happy.
Slowly, the camera zooms out. The music changes pace. It becomes a bit goofier, if you will, as the camera focuses on a new set of characters.
Enter the nemesis: We zoom into a cute little cave... not exactly a hobbit hole, but still rather cute. Inside this cave, there be canines.
Foxes, to be more precise. We are presented with a foxy lady (literally), who is not exactly happy.
Empty fridge, that's why. No provisions. Apparently, no provisions for weeks. The music goes from goofy to dramatic. Wonderful, portentous, over the top, filled with the unspeakable pain and suffering only a devoted wife is capable of.
Her manfox is a lazy ass mofo. Spends all day running about in the fields, chasing butterflies and little princes. Not bunnies. She threatens her drone, menacingly waving a pan at his head, while she continously points a finger at the empty fridge. Eyes burning with anger.
This is your last chance, she seems to be saying.
She throws the pan at her drone's head and there's a crashing sound. A big, bright, noisy, china cymbal. And, with this cymbal, the music changes once more. Now it's more rockous and dynamic.
This is time for action.
The lazy-yet-devoted fox husband goes out of his cave to meet with other, equally lazy, equally devoted, and equally threatened fox husbands. They've all been slacking. First they were lazy, then they got sloppy, and finally became careless. Now, the famine-stricken wives have gained control and kicked the lazies out to work.
The music, at this point, is some sort of folk-metal (think ensiferum). It conveys the feeling of action from the plotting foxes, and the somewhat celtic, pastoral air of the unsuspecting bunnies.
At this point, the unsuspecting bunnies are fully aware of what's going on. They've heard the marching noises from afar, and know exactly what awaits them.
A stranger interrupts the fox's emotional discourse. The music stops, but for a single note. A high pitched note, to indicate suspense.
The new character wears a mask. It's a bunny skull.
He lectures the starving foxes. Even when you work, you don't work. You ask the bunnies to capture themselves. To lay down on the field and wait for you to pick them up.
Some hunters...
The foxes, staring blankly at the ground, silently agree.
The stranger speaks of misteries and wonders untold, and beseechs the foxes to wait, silently, in a cave.
The music slowly fades away to leave a single instrument: a flute, as the masked stranger takes out a flute of his own and starts to play an eerie melody.
The tone is, again, celtic, sort of irish. As the stranger plays away, the creatures of the night make way for him to pass freely. The sounds of nature stop in awe. And all the sleeping bunnies of this world awaken to the sound of music. The music is hypnotic, luring them out of their little holes. One after another the bunnies come out. One after another they follow the masked stranger. As they march along, the music of the flute becomes merrier, and of a faster pace. It turns into a march, and all the bunnies of the world walk blindly to it.
More and more instruments are slowly and gradually added to this marching tune, as they approach the foxes' cave, unaware of what awaits them.
As they enter, the beat is solid. By this time it has a techno feel to it. Think Rammstein. The bunnies walk into the cave, following the masked stranger. Inside, the foxes play a song of their own. It is the techno-industrial sound that has been building up.
The masked stranger disappears and we are left with the foxes playing and the bunnies moshing, jumping, arms in the air, unaware, and completely hypnotized by the music.
As the bunnies dance and sing along, the foxes snatch them away, one by one, little by little.
Off with the ears. Off with the heads. Off with anything and everything. Be done with them. Be gone.
There, a pice of leg. There, an ear. There, the eyes. Here, the blood of all the bunnies, shed for gluttony.
The foxes lay about, unable to move. They have feasted upon the weak and innocent and now they sleep amidst the corpses. The music fades away, and in comes a low pitched binaural pulse. Something shapeless, almost like the sounds that can be heard underwater. Like the sound of waves heard from beneath the surface of the sea.
The world itself seems to grow dim and blurry, as the foxes lose consciousness, one by one. The scene is lost to a black background, and the camera zooms out of the cave.
The binaural beat transforms gradually into the nocturnal sounds of nature.
From a distance, the masked stranger keeps watch, and turns away as the last fox gives in to sleep. The scene fades once again to black.
The simple glory of the morning sun is greeted by a pastoral tune, once more. Once again, we see the birds, the bees, the trees. Only, this time, we do not zoom in to a circle of bunnies. We zoom in to a handful of foxes instead: chasing each other, loitering under the morning sun.
The devoted fox wives are once again at peace with their lazy drones.
Their powers of observation aren't very sharp, for they do not realise that all the corpses from the night before are gone.
So entertained are they with their own musings, they have little time to ponder on the whereabouts of a few dead bunnies.
They're back to chasing butterflies and dreams and little princes.
Little baby foxes and their little baby brothers run after their own tails
The mothers and the fathers lick their paws, in satisfaction.
The skies gradually turn gray, and the pastoral melody turns slowly into a whisper, a pianissimo insinuation of a stringed beat.
The beat grows, in a slow crescendo, as the skies are occasionally illuminated by distant lightning.
By the time the stringed beat is at its fullest fortissimo, the skies have turned completely black. We have the darkness of the night in the middle of the day.
The foxes run for shelter, half in awe, half in fear.
At a distance, the masked stranger, arms raised against the wind, standing high upon a hill, seems to summon thunderbolt and lightning. Very very frightening, indeed.
The stranger conjures ancient magic and the skies respond with the mighty voice of thunder.
The undead come crawling, walking, half dancing, to the sound of the masked stranger's magic tune (think thriller). And, as they follow him across the undying, green fields, of the forest, the foxes flee to the caves, for living bunnies can be killed, and smashed, and eaten, but what is to be done with undead creatures?
Slowly, and inevitably, the undead bunnies walk into the caves.
Slowly, and inevitably, the foxes fall, prey to the wrath of the undead.
Once again, the rolling green hills are bathed in blood. The walking dead are mercyless. Nothing is left alive.
When nothing more is left standing, the army of darkness fades into thin air, and the music that brough them to life slowly becomes a little more than just a hum, a faint innuendo that soon vanishes into silence.
The skies clear, and the stranger on the hill takes off the mask, to reveal a feline face.
A con artist, left alone in the forest. The finally quiet, noiseless, forest. Free of springtime festivals and marital disputes. Free of noise.
I
did, in fact, compose most of the music I had planned for this. I
recorded much of it as well. I suck at drawing, so I asked my wife to
make these little creatures, as simple as she could, so I could copy
them without much trouble. I had begun animation, and was already a few
minutes into the story. Then some things happened that had to happen,
and all of that was lost. All I have left is the story itself, which I
have yet to commit to animation. Who knows, I might finish this some
day.
