W
wolfshadow
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There was a momentary lull in the action, both fighters were drenched in a glittering sheen of sweat and blood and their faces were hideously distorted by the patchwork of angry bruises and swelling accrued throughout the proceeding rounds of the bout. It was as if muscle and bone had melted and solidified beneath the skin, leaving each with a ghastly caricature of their former countenance.
An impatient murmur rippled through the crowd and a shrill nasally voice rang out from amongst its depths denouncing both combatants as cowards. The accusation was delivered by a squalid, rotund spectator with an unsightly puce complexion. He was attired in a gaudy orange tuxedo and his eyes were ablaze with hysterical contempt.
Obligingly, the two figures redoubled their efforts, meeting again in the centre of the ring and wailing away at one other with thunderous blows. Any shred of concern that either had nurtured for self defence had been summarily abandoned as the stakes dawned on them proper. They were now gambling with their lives and the carnage was heading inexorably to the destruction of one or both men, a fate that bound them more intimately than lovers.
Finally, a decisive advantage was claimed as the taller and younger of the two found his mark with a chilling straight right hand! It struck his opponent on the point of the chin, jerking his head back and terminating his equilibrium, causing him to drunkenly stagger backwards. Needing no further encouragement, the younger man followed through with a fusillade of punches that put and end to the contest and left the other flat on his back staring unblinkingly at the ceiling of the barn.
An exuberant cheer filled the building as the crowds’ appetite for blood had been satiated but the winner barely acknowledged it. Instead he knelt at the prostrate figure on the ground, sensing at once that the man was fatally injured. “Dad”, he whispered, a tear falling down his cheek. “Is that really you Nathan”, the figure replied, his voice faint and ebbing. “Yes it is”, the tears and blood were now streaming across his face, “I came to find you and when I found out that you were a fighter, I pretended that I was one too so I could get closer to you”. For a moment the figure tilted his head and gazed at Nathan, a smile crossing his mangled features. “No pretending about it” he uttered then fell limp.
An impatient murmur rippled through the crowd and a shrill nasally voice rang out from amongst its depths denouncing both combatants as cowards. The accusation was delivered by a squalid, rotund spectator with an unsightly puce complexion. He was attired in a gaudy orange tuxedo and his eyes were ablaze with hysterical contempt.
Obligingly, the two figures redoubled their efforts, meeting again in the centre of the ring and wailing away at one other with thunderous blows. Any shred of concern that either had nurtured for self defence had been summarily abandoned as the stakes dawned on them proper. They were now gambling with their lives and the carnage was heading inexorably to the destruction of one or both men, a fate that bound them more intimately than lovers.
Finally, a decisive advantage was claimed as the taller and younger of the two found his mark with a chilling straight right hand! It struck his opponent on the point of the chin, jerking his head back and terminating his equilibrium, causing him to drunkenly stagger backwards. Needing no further encouragement, the younger man followed through with a fusillade of punches that put and end to the contest and left the other flat on his back staring unblinkingly at the ceiling of the barn.
An exuberant cheer filled the building as the crowds’ appetite for blood had been satiated but the winner barely acknowledged it. Instead he knelt at the prostrate figure on the ground, sensing at once that the man was fatally injured. “Dad”, he whispered, a tear falling down his cheek. “Is that really you Nathan”, the figure replied, his voice faint and ebbing. “Yes it is”, the tears and blood were now streaming across his face, “I came to find you and when I found out that you were a fighter, I pretended that I was one too so I could get closer to you”. For a moment the figure tilted his head and gazed at Nathan, a smile crossing his mangled features. “No pretending about it” he uttered then fell limp.
lol
