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Thatcher Boyd

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on June 11, 2012 at 10:09:46 pm
 

 


 

Meet Thatcher Boyd:

 

My name is Thatcher Boyd. I was born with Asperger’s Disorder, but that did not stop me from doing the things that I love. My older sister and I found reading

and writing complex materials easy. Because of this, I excelled in school (well, math was a bit of a struggle). I discovered a love for film when I saw an Abbott and

Costello film at the age of six. At the time, I only enjoyed films in black-and-white, (Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, The Three Stooges, 1931’s Frankenstein, 1925’s Phantom of the Opera starring Lon Chaney, etc.) but accepting as I was, the interest became vast. My greatest hope is to one day become a film director, but still writing is my second option. My favorite country is Ireland, which I hope to someday retire in.

 

 

 


 

 

PASSAGE FROM ALEXANDRE

By Thatcher Boyd

 

PROLOGUE

 

     This story begins in France spanning the years of 1793 until 1794. During this period of time, there was somewhat of a war occurring known as “The Reign of Terror”. This reign began after King Louis XVI’s death, which sparked a rivalry between two families; the Jacobins and the Girondins. The Girondin’s campaign purpose was to end the monarchy but resist the French Revolution to continue. The Jacobins, however, started the reign of terror and it was in their best wishes for it to continue. During this time, mass executions were held. It all ended with the death of the Jacobin’s leader Maximillian Robespierre.

     Before the audience reads this I ask them to deny history for a moment. Although this is a work of fiction, not all history is recorded. I myself do not know what happened exactly during this Reign of Terror, but this is what I conjured.

 

INTRODUCTION

 

 

The power is assumed

The laws are defied

The land is scorched

The sky rains tyranny

The people cry

The uprising is nigh

The battle is fought

The blood lies spilt

The innocent reign supreme

The terror is over

-Jacob Berg

 
 

 

     A desolate rooftop. The only safe place from the horrors below. The only thing the man fears more than his past is the blade of the guillotine. His clothing is black; it blends in with the night, as he is supposed to. A blade remains motionless up his sleeve, but he knows it will not remain

motionless for long. And woven on his ca

pe is the badge that was given to him by Sylvaine, the leader of his clan. That badge is the man’s most trustworthy ally.

     The man starts to think about his career. He doesn’t think negatively for he believes strongly in the Jacobin’s cause. He himself was once a peasant, along with his family. From what he has

experienced over the last 3 months, change is a part of him. Change is what made Alexandre Giroux a killer. Then with a kick of dust and a scrape of bricks, Sylvaine appeared from behind him.

     “Bon journee! (Good day!)” he said.

     “You can rightfully say that by now it is night, Sylvaine,” Alexandre replied.

     “The perfect setting for another job for you. I’m sure you do not mind, but we need to ensure you are on with “Pour Les Personnes (For the People, an assassination group allied with the Jacobins)”. Alexandre developed a bitter look in his green eyes. 

     “Why do you persistently ask me these questions of faith? Why should I continue these despicable acts if you do not have assurance in me?” he asked. They paced around each other in a deadly circle.

     “It is after all the Reign of Terror, who is there to trust?” 

     Alexandre replied with just as bitter of a remark, “I was about to ask you the same question.”           Sylvaine, in turn started to get maddened and said, “Why are you attacking me when you are supposed to be allied with me?”

     Alexandre stared at the false Sylvaine. “The meaning of my name is “defender of mankind. By attacking those who threaten mankind, I AM defending mankind!”

     The false Sylvaine backed away towards the edge of the roof, fear in his voice. “You must be mistaken, o-or drunk! That is it! Well, why not let the merrymaking continue? We’ll go down there no-“

     “NO!” Alexandre cut him off.

     At this point, the false Sylvaine faced Alexandre’s backside. The false Sylvaine repeated, “You ARE mistaken!” as he slyly pulled out a dagger from his cloak. Alexandre closed his eyes and

breathed as the false Sylvaine rushed him from behind. In a flurry, the assassin grabbed the false Sylvaine’s striking arm and ended his life with his own stiletto.

     Alexandre leaned and whispered into the man’s ear, “The Sylvaine I know understands the code, that we kill to save lives, and that we under no circumstances kill other assassins.” He laid the corpse down. “Requeste de pache.”

 

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