The winter darkness surrounds the naked corpse of a tree which only months ago stood there in all its glory. The thin branches sway in the wind, the only sign of movement in a ghost like scene. The only sound is the patter of rain as it splashes against the cold concrete floor, the perfect picture to depict winter in England. Staring from the distance is a WWA wrestler that goes by the name of Mr. Darkness, he has an expression that one would expect to see on a person returning home to find he’s home destroyed. Suddenly Mr. Darkness is tapped on his shoulders, he turns around slowly to find himself being stared at by an ancient vicar with wrinkled skin.

“Greetings my child,” the vicar barely manages to speak a single sentence, his voice weakened by the ravages of age. Mr. Darkness bows his head in respectful greeting.

“Good afternoon, I trust you are here to help me?” the vicar gradually shakes his head at the question. Mr. Darkness smiles. The vicar waves towards the church, reluctantly Mr. Darkness nods his head and follows the vicar into the grey deteriorating building. Upon his entrance Mr. Darkness looks around at the stain glass windows that fill the walls while all around him previously lit candles mysteriously go out as if a big gust of wind had filled the church.

“What can I do for you my child? A confession?” The vicar raises his eyebrows in surprise when Mr. Darkness shakes his head.

“In a mere matter of days I will face the biggest challenge in my career, possibly in my life. An event called the Birthday Bash in which I must compete for a brawl. Unfortunately I am a firm believer of mind over mass and my mind is plagued with confusion,” Mr. Darkness reveals to the vicar who lightly shakes in head. Slowly the vicar points to the front row of the church and Mr. Darkness nods his head taking a seat. The vicar sits beside him and looks Mr. Darkness in the eye.

“You are concerned that what you have to do to fellow humans in such a match will anger the Lord, correct?” The vicar pats Mr. Darkness on the shoulder, attempting to console him. Mr. Darkness shakes his head and pushes the vicar’s hand away.

“No, it is nothing like that. It is the term birthday. I do not understand it. I fail to see its significance,” the correction is responded with a strange stare from the vicar. He looks shocked and confused, as if not believing the word that are leaving Mr. Darkness’ mouth. For a few seconds the vicar stammers, attempting to sum up an answer.

“I-I-I, the term birthday is more than just a celebration. It does have a purpose. Take me for instance, I celebrated my eightieth birthday just last week, for me it was a chance to reflect back on my past, and with me that is a lot of ground to cover. I hope I have been of some help,” the vicar stumbles over his words. Still in disbelief. He stands up and walks away, leaving the WWA wrestler, Mr. Darkness to contemplate. Indeed, Mr. Darkness is contemplating. For this first time he seems to realise why the term birthday was so strange to him, it was for the simple reason that he had two pasts, two histories that were so contrastingly different. If the answer to his dubious thoughts on the term birthday rested somewhere in his storied history it was time to find it.

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The silence and darkness combined together like a young fun loving couple jeering at passers by. The scene was like one from a horror movie, darkness, silence and grave stones just barely visible. However, this was no movie, this was a case of déjà vu. WWA viewers had seen this place several times before, the tombstones in a clearing of woods. The home to the second life, or perhaps the much rumoured afterlife of a certain WWA wrestler. In fact it is that wrestler’s butler that is searching with a torch through the mostly hidden graveyard and the dead of night. Searching for one thing. A link to his master’s past which might help his master’s future.

“Master, come quick, I have found it!” exclaims the butler rather excitedly. The Butler turns behind to see if his master is coming, however he spots no movement. Confused he turns back around, straight into his master’s pale waxy white face which is still visible even without light, the master scream out loud in a high pitch voice before running behind the gravestone. Mr. Darkness sighs loudly and shakes his head, before bending down to read the tombstone.
“Butler, torch,” the short simple order is replied with a shaky hand handing over the powerful torch. Mr. Darkness directs the beam at the gravestone, illuminating the grey stone and making the inscription readable. Mr. Darkness smiles, satisfied with the discovery of the one thing that might help him. “After the unfortunate incident, of which I was to blame, a graveyard was created by the neighbouring village of which had strong connections to the one I lived in. This particular gravestone was created for me, they would have imagined that I could have been responsible for the carnage. Here in this gravestone is kept the memories of my first life. The past…” Mr. Darkness’ eyes seem to go unfocused, as if for a second remembering, yet his eyes seem weak, as if they can’t quite see. The Butler suddenly recovers from his earlier shock and stand up, he stares at his master for a second, his eyes fluttering and a small smile spread across his face. And then suddenly a look of fear grows on his face, he waves his hand in front of his master to no reply.

“Master?” the Butler tries desperately to win the attention of his beloved master yet Mr. Darkness remains frozen. “MASTER!” Robotically Mr. Darkness extends his arm and touches the grave, his face suddenly twitches, his normal arrogant smile changes to a frown.

“Let us go Butler, this…this is not my past,” and with that Mr. Darkness turns and walks away, up the steps which lead to a path which eventually dwindles down to a road. The butler is left behind, an expression of concerned confusion scratched on his face.

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The explosion of life is incredible. The golden sun bakes down on the luscious green grass on which birds dine and in the beautiful blue sky, flies perform aerial acrobatics, putting on a show for any person that might pass by unexpectedly.

“What the?” Mr. Darkness gasps as he looks at the scene were so many years ago huge monstrosities occurred. It is only months removed from his last visit to this spot where he saw nothing but death and now despite the weather getting worse a whole new life has grown as if magically. Mr. Darkness gazes around and finds no sense of the silent and tense atmosphere that used to and should still remain here. He shakes his head in disbelief and then shuts his eyes, imagining the village on that fatal evening.

Suddenly Mr. Darkness retraces his footsteps of old, searching in his imagination for the heart of his past. He passes colourful flowers and steps over a small brook before eventually stopping. He stands where he stood, the second of the minute, of the hour, of the hour, of the day that he saw his mother lay at rest in his father’s arms with the flames slowly engulfing them. Gradually he opens his eyes. In place of his mother and father are a patch of dandelions, his mother’s favourite plant. He bows his head and closes his eyes, his forehead crinkles as he contemplates. Contemplates the past, all in an attempt to understand a term which could decide his future.

“I understand,” Mr. Darkness whispers, almost in disbelief. A smile flickers on his face and he clears his throat, “I UNDERSTAND! The term birthday, is to look back at the past and to compare it to the future to see how things have improved. Just like how this place of horror and death has become a patch of life.” Mr. Darkness drops down to the ground and smells the dandelions, his eyes light up. “And then to celebrate, one must…destroy the improvements!” Mr. Darkness suddenly pulls up a dandelion, rips it in half and throws it behind him. He thumps the ground, crushing all the life to death.

As the hours pass the field slowly returns back to it’s former state. One of death. Mr. Darkness finally stops, gazes around and nods his head. "This is what I must do. This is what I WILL do at the Birthday Bash, and I will do it well, to make up for lost birthdays...” his voice sounds as content as can be…