Street Spirit (Fade Out)

My nose breaks immediately.
The first punch he throws and I’m blinded, my mouth filling up with blood and shame.

I reach up to try and fix it, but the pain is too much. I’ll leave it until after.

I flex my fingers, stretching the dirty blood stained tape.

“Look at you. It just started and you already lost. But if you insist…”

I reach out to him, wildly. His fist hits me in the mouth. A broken tooth.
Why did I think I could do this?
I’ve been in fights before…they all seemed unnatural…slow motion events where I had plenty of time to think attacks and counter attacks through…

But this bastard is fast.

“Just lay down, boy.”

The palm of my hand thrusts into his chest, it takes all of my strength but he’s coughing.

Straightening up, I try to look cool, together, collected. I wipe the blood from my face, stretch my neck. Now, I’m ready.

We trade punches.
The gathering crowds cheer for us. Money flying from pockets betting on winner and loser, life and death.
It’s one of those fights, you either walk away. Or they carry you out.

I kick his knee in and he goes down. Howling and cursing.
His hands pull me to the ground, rabbit punching my back as I fall.

There are no rules in these street fights. It’s fight or lose…and no one likes a loser.

Anywhere that hurts you hit and you hit hard.

Puddles of blood, cut eyebrows. Spitting and kicking.

The crowd roars and he’s on top of me. Fingers crushing my throat.


Blackness setting in.

Scrambling, I’m doing everything I can think of to get away but he’s too big.

“Go for the eyes, kid! Fuck him up or you’ll die.”

The eyes. It’s a disgusting thing to do, but I can’t breath.

Using my neck as leverage he’s hitting my head against the pavement. Each hit and I forget what I’m doing.

My thumbs scrape up his cheeks, fingers tearing at his ears and hair.

It’s one of the most horrible feelings in the world.

The pavement under my head is getting wetter and wetter. My thumbs dig into his eyes.

He squeezes harder and I can’t breath…at all.

I can’t breath.

I feel blood running down my hands.

My thumbs touch skull.

He’s pulling away.

I’m falling.

I’m fading.

My head rests on the ground.

The crowd is cheering.

If I could get up, I would. But I’m done. I’m broken, beat…fading away.


About litbandit

El Bandito Bibliotequa...or something.
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