Elements are massacred, decimated in a violent collision of earth and metal and flesh. Death would be a welcome release from the pain, the searing, reeling pain.
But death eludes yet again. On it goes, the battle.
A fist, a shattered cheek. A finger, a gouged eye. A leather sole, a bruised temple and shaken equilibrium.
Yet, on this battle rages. No prize or reward awaits the battered victor. The only honor garnered by the winner of this will be more of the same.
In this arena, this cage in the round before the bloodthirsty masses, there are no spoils to be won. Into this grinder of meat and tendon and bone is fed the remnants of youth and promise and once endless horizon.
But freedom, that dream once believed real by savage slave, has passed into memory, never to be realized again.
For even those rare few who matriculate from this prison stage into years of stoop and limp and grey know the harsh truth. There is no freedom greater or more powerful than that of a life held between fingers. To end a life is to know this myth of freedom, to visit the realm of gods in a primal world of man and evil.
iPhone Notes Story
DFW -TUL 08/26/14