Fractal Realities: Thrill of the Fight

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


The two fighters were clumsy. They didn't know that before but they knew it now. Winning a fight was something they'd both taken for granted. With size and power on their side, they hadn't bothered to learn finesse. Mastering a fighting style took time and effort and neither had had that much interest in spending the energy. Besides nothing could hurt them, so why bother? Not to mention it would have been impossible before today to find a partner to give their practice any weight.

One meaty fist crashed into an eye, grazing up off an already bruised cheek. The impact snapped the owner's head back. He shook it back and forth trying to clear it of the robust ringing, like he was deep inside the belly of a bronze bell. Through all of that, he smiled. After so long, it was good to feel pain again. Or anything, really.

He stepped back and put both hands to his stomach. It was a calming gesture he'd picked up when he was young. “Are you having as much fun as I am?”

His opponent leaped forward with a snarl.


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