The 3rd
The 3rd belongs to the following groups:
All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical and Short stories - Spherical ScriptingsIt’s a piece of cake.
I’m flying, high, euphoric.
The heady feeling of invincibility is palpable – I AM IT!
“Settle down, son”, he says. His voice is calm and steady, contrasting with my racing mind. “You’re doing fine out there – but keep those hands up, damn it!”
What fucking hands? I laugh – inside and out. I’m a killing machine – a tool of destruction. I was born for this – I was made special. I have a shield – impenetrable, invulnerable. Why can’t he see this? Hahahaha! I laugh, almost hysterically.
“I want you to concentrate. Stick to the formula. Remember the structure. Follow the plan, and we’ll get through this.”
We? We’ll get through it? What the fuck is he talking about? I’m the one doing all the work here, the stupid old bastard. This is MY time to shine. No one – nothing – can hurt me now. My legs dance and my feet tap the floor impatiently. I am outrageously pumped – veins bulging and straining with high-pressure, youthful blood. My eyes dart from side to side and then focus on my opponent. I smile and nod, oblivious to the constant low but urgent coaxing, preaching and guiding. I am so sick of the words. Words are useless. I’m doing what I love – winning. Winning is easy – all you have to do to win is stop talking.
“Pace yourself, son. Don’t waste your energy. There is still a long road ahead of you. Keep something in reserve. Read the patterns. Get the rhythm. Crack the code”
He rambles on, my mentor. He is always rambling on. As if he could know what I feel, what I can do. He had his chance. Now he’s out of touch, living his dreams through me. Well, let him have his fantasies. I know what to do and how to do it.
My skin tightens and tingles as I feel time approaching. I remember to breathe…
“…breathe – that’s it – big slow breaths…” his voice comes through.
I turn to ask for a drink, but it is there already, at my lips…
“…just a sip…go easy now…”
I jump up, muscles powerful and ready…
“…remember the plan – and keep your fucking hands up…”
Fuck the plan!
I’m ready to fight.
Ding fucking ding.
I surge outwards, confidence radiating – a burning, searing furnace.
Say hello to the 3rd, motherfucker – because you ain’t gonna see a 4th.
nigelnash
intense ! i fancy a good fight now !!
mick8585
The trouble with boxing its about your opponent, not yourself. One can only fight if allowed at any time to do so.
Most people dont understand the difference between boxing and fighting any way.
Nice one Mark. Where did this come from??
Mark German
replied
It’s a secret ;)
mick8585
Is it a metaphor for something else or am I looking too hard?
Mark German
replied
I’ll mail you… :)
Christina Martin
hummm VERY interesting very intense Mark! Makes me wonder too!
Lys •
curiosity killed the cat…or just made it wiser ;)
this is fuckin intense man! i love the commentary especially, really helps draw the emotions out to the point where they could be cut with a piece of paper.
Alix Purcell
Great write Mark! I love the contrast between the two characters’ dialouge (or lack thereof as the case may be)... the son’s thoughts and the father’s words offset one another really nicely. Well done!—A
mariemadeleyne
There is a wall, or an ocean of emptiness between these two characters, a generation, different way in conceiving life… what we need to fight for.
Very good writing, very powerful. It makes me think again, and wonder as well.
Don’t stop writing.
MissKristy
RARGHGHG Bring it on! :)
Fantastic piece of writing.
Paul Louis Vil...
Intense piece!
Wow, that’s got the adrenalin pumping, well done Mark! :D
stephenloomes
The sports page poet!
Suzanne German
What a winner!!! On all counts!!!!
lovely writing Mark!
HandofTamm
bounces like a fighter’s light feet—a knockout!
Xen Pow
This is my kind of writing! woo fucking hoo!
eaphotography
You know this says a lot more then just about a fight. I mean life is a fight, being an artist is a fight and I really identify with this.