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[Flash Fiction] Warrior’s Inspiration

December 2, 2011

The ref gives the signal, the bell rings, and I emerge from my corner toward my opponent. I am a Roman gladiator, fighting for glory. My first strike seems to be a kick, but it is only a feint. I deftly slide to my right, avoiding my opponent’s clumsy kick toward my leg, his hasty answer to my challenge. I am Batman, using agility and guile to wear down my brutish foe.

I close with a fast low kick of my own, and begin my assault with my covered fists toward his head. I am Rocky Balboa, only my opponent and I are not limited to fighting with our hands. I make a mistake and do not return my left hand to my head quickly enough. My opponent’s gloved fist glances off the side of my head, and I am reminded for a moment that these red cushions on our hands are there to protect our hands, not each other’s bodies. I counter with an overhand right, connecting with his cheek and interrupting his next attack. I am Conan the Cimmerian, shrugging off minor wounds and killing lesser men with single powerful strikes.

I raise my knee to check his kick, and return with a leg strike of my own, as might a master swordsman who parries his opponent’s blade and takes advantage of the opening. I am Inigo Montoya, my father is still alive, but prepare to die anyways.

I am too focused on my own attacks, my guard is lowered and I do not realize that his next kick is aimed high. His shin catches me hard against the side of my head. As I fall, consciousness slipping away, I hope that I am Tyler Durden, always victorious in defeat.

A short little something to keep my creative juices flowing before heading into the weekend. Both personal and action-oriented. Your feedback is welcome in the comments.

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