Here is the next full script and Artwork for the series hemisphere, 04 – the BOX. This is where it really gets going now, i think, I love the intro narration with the surreal water droplet playing a larger part as the abstract sub themes really start to play a role as tangible characters and intertwine within the main storyline.
The artwork really moved onto a new level as well, Very proud of this, as it’s all drawn with brushes in photoshop. One of my favorite artworks and scripting. Also I produced some narration 🙂
Any feedback please feel free to contact me, comments are always welcome like usual, Enjoy and thanks for visiting
Chapter 04 – the BOX
where are you? poor little ghost boy. Are you used to looking for things that no one else can see? Are you in some place that we cannot reach? Are you bathing in moonlight, or drowning on the beach? Are you surrounded by things we cannot penetrate? Is the cage you love, the home you also hate?
He walked in, over my grave, allied with the darkness as it ate him up. He asked for my help, but not yet, all in good time. Suddenly it snapped into my education, the lessons I wish I learnt, but now I wish I never did, like a kid trying to grow up too fast. There are two worlds, both harbour an equal number of lifeless shells, these are perceived as people. To become alive they need a consciousness, but there’s only a limited number of these to form a symbiotic relationship. These consciousness’ jumps between shells across the two different worlds, they never stop. This is existence, the workings behind the scene of reality. I was living a life of lies, the truth was too hard to comprehend. I tried blinding myself to it, but it made too much sense to close my eyes anymore, it all added up. When one person sleeps on one world, one wakes up on the other, with their conciousness. When one shell dies on one world, one dies on the other, evening up the numbers, maintaining mother nature’s balance. The conciousness is generic, as in age, gender and sex do not matter, they go from man to woman, young to old. Life’s genetic mystery’s were unraviling, but none to my questions. People in comas are shells missing a conciousness, removed from the loop. The transparent noose was tightening around my life, a slow death. When you fall asleep the conciousness stores your memories in the large chunk of the brain previously thought unused, like a backup. Then exits your body and enters someone’s on the other world, recalls their memories, and continues their exsistance. Dreams, deja-vu and mild dispositing are all results from the conciousness leaking what it was previously doing. Centuries ago this was common knowledge, and accepted, but in time it had been distorted, diluted and disregarded. The small print that no-one reads was shaping itself into the blueprint of life. He then handed me a box, what was this? Pandora’s box?. Never accept gifts from strangers because you always get fucked, and they get away with it using the small print. He said it would explain everything. My mental state was back at square one, but this time it looked more like a cube, a box. Trying to fathom the true fabric of life, I passed out
And woke up. Now I had a box, the one from my nightmare. If that was a dream how did I have a box from it? And what did he say about two worlds? He was my worst nightmare. The last thing I remember him saying before I woke up, “Sleep on it, it’ll be better tomorrow”