This one is inspired by my newfound favorite sport, and of course by one of the parallel versions of myself…
I stood in my corner motionless as I watched him approach from the other end of the hall, and instantly wondered why I was standing there. The pitchy cheering sounds snapped me out of the long daze I've been in ever since I set foot on this ring. The champ pranced about as he drew nearer to the fight zone, waving to his fans and occasionally shaking hands with a few lucky ones. Just like a king acknowledging his subjects, I thought to myself. Watching him get closer in a confident fashion instantly sent a cold chill down my spine, he was one big guy. Worried but not scared, I kept telling myself that I have the speed and more importantly a killer right punch. Failed attempts at self reassurance…
The question came to mind once more: "Why in God's name are you here?". That is probably the only question to which I knew the answer, yet never seized to ask time and again. Questions that start with "Why" never seem to have answers, and when they do, the answers are hardly convincing, hence sending my mind to madness instead of sought serenity. That is why I hate questions that start with "Why", always have and always will…
This specific repetitive question however remains the exception, because the answer comes instinctively and it lights the abandoned room of hope in my house of despair. You see, I believe that I once had the perfect life; to me it was at least. It was nothing exceptional, but it made me happy; it was my exceptional life. Like everything else, this too had to end. Why it ended is of course a question I never ask and never will, and the reason to that is quite obvious. So, lost and disoriented I stood there in my corner because what remained of my former life and self was my pride. Pride is all I had, and it is why I was embarking on this challenge. Pride was my only hope at any fresh beginning, and if that came at risk of getting maimed and mangled in public, I didn't mind. Ironically, this fight was my only chance; it was the double edged blade I held on to in resolution.
Upon announcing my name on the microphone, I was jeered out of my contemplation for the second time. I looked up only to see my opponent had geared up and was walking towards me. He said something about murdering me, but I couldn't care less. His threats didn't matter, because my fight was never with him, so I just nodded and smiled. I tightened my gloves, put on my head and mouth guard and hopped a few times in place. "Here goes" I said out loud…
The bell declared the beginning of the first round and I was already dancing around my opponent trying to find an opening, while the champ moved slowly and wisely strategizing. I was eager and excited, almost like I had a point to prove, but to whom? As the anticipation rose I started seeing faces and images of my past in place of my rival. I knew this would happen; in fact I wanted it to happen. That is the fight I was there for…
Reminded of an unborn future by a dead past, my anger was fueled and I charged my memories almost insanely. The mere sight of them set my heart on fire and tore the last strings that tied me to reality. To my utter surprise, I was unable to land a single punch. I didn't know whether I was deliberately missing or the fighter to which the memories were bound was simply too fast. In retaliation my memories hit back hard in all the areas I left uncovered during my rampage. My memories were punishing me…
I managed to last the round and retreat to my corner in anguish, the first round certainly didn't go well for me. I felt throbbing pain all over my body, yet it was incomparable to the pain I felt inside, as a result of the battle in my head. I stood up and walked back towards my opponent while the bell sounded once more…
I decided to take it slowly and give myself a chance to counter instead of hasty bashing. Quickly I circled the champ again waiting for him to initiate the attack, and he didn't disappoint. Right before his first punch landed on my face, I could swear that I saw myself throwing it, as if I was fighting a mirror. I stumbled back and moved towards the ropes just to get a better look, and I was right. Instead of the skilled fighter I saw myself standing there only a bit younger, which in fact wasn't a bad thing. After suffering from an instantaneous shock, I grinned at myself. "I know your every move" I thought, "I'm way ahead of you". I closed on my mirror reflection and engaged in a brawl with him. This was an opponent I thought I'd be able to take down, and he sure deserved to be taken down hard. It took all my might to keep up with him in a fight, it seemed that it was in fact him who knew my ever move. He knew exactly where I was going to hit and where my next step will be, whereas I had no clue what he'll do next. Forced to switch to a defensive mode, I was once again being pummeled by my younger self. At that point I had realized that I had one more round of torment to go, and I had no idea who I'll be facing next. The thought was almost thrilling…
In a split second I heard a loud popping sound, followed by a punch to the face that sent me flying to the ground. I tried to get up, but searing pain shot through my right shoulder. Realizing that my shoulder was dislocated, I lay on the ground in agony listening to the countdown that had just started. I didn't want to end the fight, but given the excruciating pain I didn't know if could proceed. My muscles were going into spasms and all I could think of is how much my shoulder hurts. "Four" the referee shouted prompting me to take a quick decision, which in turn led me into the abandoned room of hope. Ironically, as I drove through roads of physical pain I for once forgot all about my emotional and mental one. It seems that my head was not the only torture chamber…
One round was all that was left, and I decided to go thru with it. I got up using my left arm and nodded in approval to the question posed by the ref.
"Will you be able to carry on?"
I let out a loud sigh of relief when I heard the bell announcing the end of the second round, before having to fight again. As I walked towards my corner, I wished to see my coach standing there. He however – like many others – had abandoned me. So, throwing in the towel was not option, even if I wanted to mid-fight. After taking a couple of breaths, I thought of popping my arm back in place, but I had no idea how and I would be risking messing it up further, so I decided not to.
The thought of either my past failing me, or me failing myself was not pleasant, but it hardly mattered now. There's a world outside my head, and a life after the one I had. I sat silently waiting for the bell to kick off round three, for that is when the real fight began…
Having to fight without my stronger arm was infuriating seeing that I finally had my eyes on the prize, but it wasn't a total loss nevertheless. I walked over to my contender looking him in the eyes as I closed in, and all I could see was an ugly grinning big guy. No faces, no images, no former self…
I made my way halfway through round three trying to avoid direct contact with the champ, who had by then figured out my weakness. No different than all those who lurk in the shadows of my past he wasn't finding any shame in hitting me where it hurt most, the only difference however is that this guy was real and he was with me in a ring where I can actually fight back and inflict damage…
As the fight approached its end, I knew that it was a lost cause. Hindered by my handicap, I saw no possible come back. I was finally bleeding for a reason however, and that was my silver lining. No more wasted blood…
Another hefty punch sent me flailing across the ring, followed by another cheap shot to the back of the head. I tripped and landed on my deformed motionless arm. I heard yet another loud pop. I felt sudden relief to my right shoulder; my shoulder was somehow partially popped back. It felt like a miracle, but I felt it was about time things went my way. I got up and rotated my arm in a full 360 degrees with minor pain. I smiled at the champ…
"Thank you"
The champ wasn't able to survive his countdown; his head lay at my feet. Knocked out…
The jeers became cheers…
What happens now?
The Song: Stranger Things Have Happened – Foo Fighters
I stood in my corner motionless as I watched him approach from the other end of the hall, and instantly wondered why I was standing there. The pitchy cheering sounds snapped me out of the long daze I've been in ever since I set foot on this ring. The champ pranced about as he drew nearer to the fight zone, waving to his fans and occasionally shaking hands with a few lucky ones. Just like a king acknowledging his subjects, I thought to myself. Watching him get closer in a confident fashion instantly sent a cold chill down my spine, he was one big guy. Worried but not scared, I kept telling myself that I have the speed and more importantly a killer right punch. Failed attempts at self reassurance…
The question came to mind once more: "Why in God's name are you here?". That is probably the only question to which I knew the answer, yet never seized to ask time and again. Questions that start with "Why" never seem to have answers, and when they do, the answers are hardly convincing, hence sending my mind to madness instead of sought serenity. That is why I hate questions that start with "Why", always have and always will…
This specific repetitive question however remains the exception, because the answer comes instinctively and it lights the abandoned room of hope in my house of despair. You see, I believe that I once had the perfect life; to me it was at least. It was nothing exceptional, but it made me happy; it was my exceptional life. Like everything else, this too had to end. Why it ended is of course a question I never ask and never will, and the reason to that is quite obvious. So, lost and disoriented I stood there in my corner because what remained of my former life and self was my pride. Pride is all I had, and it is why I was embarking on this challenge. Pride was my only hope at any fresh beginning, and if that came at risk of getting maimed and mangled in public, I didn't mind. Ironically, this fight was my only chance; it was the double edged blade I held on to in resolution.
Upon announcing my name on the microphone, I was jeered out of my contemplation for the second time. I looked up only to see my opponent had geared up and was walking towards me. He said something about murdering me, but I couldn't care less. His threats didn't matter, because my fight was never with him, so I just nodded and smiled. I tightened my gloves, put on my head and mouth guard and hopped a few times in place. "Here goes" I said out loud…
The bell declared the beginning of the first round and I was already dancing around my opponent trying to find an opening, while the champ moved slowly and wisely strategizing. I was eager and excited, almost like I had a point to prove, but to whom? As the anticipation rose I started seeing faces and images of my past in place of my rival. I knew this would happen; in fact I wanted it to happen. That is the fight I was there for…
Reminded of an unborn future by a dead past, my anger was fueled and I charged my memories almost insanely. The mere sight of them set my heart on fire and tore the last strings that tied me to reality. To my utter surprise, I was unable to land a single punch. I didn't know whether I was deliberately missing or the fighter to which the memories were bound was simply too fast. In retaliation my memories hit back hard in all the areas I left uncovered during my rampage. My memories were punishing me…
I managed to last the round and retreat to my corner in anguish, the first round certainly didn't go well for me. I felt throbbing pain all over my body, yet it was incomparable to the pain I felt inside, as a result of the battle in my head. I stood up and walked back towards my opponent while the bell sounded once more…
I decided to take it slowly and give myself a chance to counter instead of hasty bashing. Quickly I circled the champ again waiting for him to initiate the attack, and he didn't disappoint. Right before his first punch landed on my face, I could swear that I saw myself throwing it, as if I was fighting a mirror. I stumbled back and moved towards the ropes just to get a better look, and I was right. Instead of the skilled fighter I saw myself standing there only a bit younger, which in fact wasn't a bad thing. After suffering from an instantaneous shock, I grinned at myself. "I know your every move" I thought, "I'm way ahead of you". I closed on my mirror reflection and engaged in a brawl with him. This was an opponent I thought I'd be able to take down, and he sure deserved to be taken down hard. It took all my might to keep up with him in a fight, it seemed that it was in fact him who knew my ever move. He knew exactly where I was going to hit and where my next step will be, whereas I had no clue what he'll do next. Forced to switch to a defensive mode, I was once again being pummeled by my younger self. At that point I had realized that I had one more round of torment to go, and I had no idea who I'll be facing next. The thought was almost thrilling…
In a split second I heard a loud popping sound, followed by a punch to the face that sent me flying to the ground. I tried to get up, but searing pain shot through my right shoulder. Realizing that my shoulder was dislocated, I lay on the ground in agony listening to the countdown that had just started. I didn't want to end the fight, but given the excruciating pain I didn't know if could proceed. My muscles were going into spasms and all I could think of is how much my shoulder hurts. "Four" the referee shouted prompting me to take a quick decision, which in turn led me into the abandoned room of hope. Ironically, as I drove through roads of physical pain I for once forgot all about my emotional and mental one. It seems that my head was not the only torture chamber…
One round was all that was left, and I decided to go thru with it. I got up using my left arm and nodded in approval to the question posed by the ref.
"Will you be able to carry on?"
I let out a loud sigh of relief when I heard the bell announcing the end of the second round, before having to fight again. As I walked towards my corner, I wished to see my coach standing there. He however – like many others – had abandoned me. So, throwing in the towel was not option, even if I wanted to mid-fight. After taking a couple of breaths, I thought of popping my arm back in place, but I had no idea how and I would be risking messing it up further, so I decided not to.
The thought of either my past failing me, or me failing myself was not pleasant, but it hardly mattered now. There's a world outside my head, and a life after the one I had. I sat silently waiting for the bell to kick off round three, for that is when the real fight began…
Having to fight without my stronger arm was infuriating seeing that I finally had my eyes on the prize, but it wasn't a total loss nevertheless. I walked over to my contender looking him in the eyes as I closed in, and all I could see was an ugly grinning big guy. No faces, no images, no former self…
I made my way halfway through round three trying to avoid direct contact with the champ, who had by then figured out my weakness. No different than all those who lurk in the shadows of my past he wasn't finding any shame in hitting me where it hurt most, the only difference however is that this guy was real and he was with me in a ring where I can actually fight back and inflict damage…
As the fight approached its end, I knew that it was a lost cause. Hindered by my handicap, I saw no possible come back. I was finally bleeding for a reason however, and that was my silver lining. No more wasted blood…
Another hefty punch sent me flailing across the ring, followed by another cheap shot to the back of the head. I tripped and landed on my deformed motionless arm. I heard yet another loud pop. I felt sudden relief to my right shoulder; my shoulder was somehow partially popped back. It felt like a miracle, but I felt it was about time things went my way. I got up and rotated my arm in a full 360 degrees with minor pain. I smiled at the champ…
"Thank you"
The champ wasn't able to survive his countdown; his head lay at my feet. Knocked out…
The jeers became cheers…
What happens now?
The Song: Stranger Things Have Happened – Foo Fighters
I love the part where you talk about the opponent knowing your weak point and striking at it, and linking it to similar memories.
ReplyDelete*takes a bow*
It was too graphic, which is good. A couple of spelling/grammar mistakes, but nothing major.
The development is steady and realistic.
I like it :)
Nina