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Staring vacantly at the man with a shadowy face covered by a dark hood I spluttered the hopelessly clichéd words “What do you want from me?”
In the darkness of the alleyway I couldn’t see his mouth but I knew he was smiling. “Wallet” he said in a rough tone, “your wallet or your life” he quipped, his invisible grin stretching the corners of his mouth widely.
I reached my open palm inside my jacket and felt the touch of leather against my fingertips. My wallet was my life – my credit card, driving licence, Blockbuster rental card, but most importantly pictures of my family – my two sons, Kieran and Adam and my beautiful wife, Alyssa.
My memories were cut short by the shout of “Hurry the f**k up, old man” and my fingers danced over my wallet to the gold-plated Parker fountain pen, the one my business partner bought me on the one-year anniversary of Gildersome-Jackson law associates. My finger and thumb flirted with the lid before pulling it off and sending it with a soft clank to the floor.
The shadowy-faced man glanced straight to the floor at the fallen pen lid and in one fluid movement I pulled the pen out of my pocket and sent the inky nib deep into his cheek. A rough scream rolled over his lips and a clenched fist caught me directly in my right eye. I staggered backwards, stunned, but relished the sight of blood cascading from the man’s cheek and through the fingers pressed over the wound. I struck again, this time with a foot against his knee and knocked him off balance. I then chanced a blow to the man’s face but as I stepped in I felt a knee between my ribs knock the wind out of me and send me to my hands and knees.
Now stood up, the man kicked me again and again in my ribs causing me to roll over and try and get to my feet. A fistful of gravel to the eyes distracted him for long enough to get up again and I launched my fist right into his mouth with a satisfying crack that dislodged a tooth or two. I followed this up by grabbing the man’s face and plunging my thumbs deep into his eyes. His screams of “stop” and “please” went unanswered as I relentlessly continued my onslaught.
I saw in a self-defence book of my wife’s once that if you push hard enough into someone’s eye sockets you will dislodge their eyeball and blind them. This was my plan indeed.
I pushed harder and harder until I was greeted with a dull pop and blood gushed down my thumbs and along my forearms. I then threw the man down by his head and watched him pitifully fall onto his back. His hands clasped against his pouring eye sockets, screaming for help.
I bent down softly next to the man and plucked my Parker fountain pen from his cheek, wiping the blood onto my tie, and placed the pen neatly inside my pocket. With a handkerchief I wiped the blood off of my Gucci loafers, straightened my jacket and walked briskly home to greet my loving family. A silent smile on my lips.
In the darkness of the alleyway I couldn’t see his mouth but I knew he was smiling. “Wallet” he said in a rough tone, “your wallet or your life” he quipped, his invisible grin stretching the corners of his mouth widely.
I reached my open palm inside my jacket and felt the touch of leather against my fingertips. My wallet was my life – my credit card, driving licence, Blockbuster rental card, but most importantly pictures of my family – my two sons, Kieran and Adam and my beautiful wife, Alyssa.
My memories were cut short by the shout of “Hurry the f**k up, old man” and my fingers danced over my wallet to the gold-plated Parker fountain pen, the one my business partner bought me on the one-year anniversary of Gildersome-Jackson law associates. My finger and thumb flirted with the lid before pulling it off and sending it with a soft clank to the floor.
The shadowy-faced man glanced straight to the floor at the fallen pen lid and in one fluid movement I pulled the pen out of my pocket and sent the inky nib deep into his cheek. A rough scream rolled over his lips and a clenched fist caught me directly in my right eye. I staggered backwards, stunned, but relished the sight of blood cascading from the man’s cheek and through the fingers pressed over the wound. I struck again, this time with a foot against his knee and knocked him off balance. I then chanced a blow to the man’s face but as I stepped in I felt a knee between my ribs knock the wind out of me and send me to my hands and knees.
Now stood up, the man kicked me again and again in my ribs causing me to roll over and try and get to my feet. A fistful of gravel to the eyes distracted him for long enough to get up again and I launched my fist right into his mouth with a satisfying crack that dislodged a tooth or two. I followed this up by grabbing the man’s face and plunging my thumbs deep into his eyes. His screams of “stop” and “please” went unanswered as I relentlessly continued my onslaught.
I saw in a self-defence book of my wife’s once that if you push hard enough into someone’s eye sockets you will dislodge their eyeball and blind them. This was my plan indeed.
I pushed harder and harder until I was greeted with a dull pop and blood gushed down my thumbs and along my forearms. I then threw the man down by his head and watched him pitifully fall onto his back. His hands clasped against his pouring eye sockets, screaming for help.
I bent down softly next to the man and plucked my Parker fountain pen from his cheek, wiping the blood onto my tie, and placed the pen neatly inside my pocket. With a handkerchief I wiped the blood off of my Gucci loafers, straightened my jacket and walked briskly home to greet my loving family. A silent smile on my lips.
wow, good work. the whole fight scene thing was really well done, lot's of gory detail.
Sickening...and pretty good too.
Nice work.
Nice work.
Very smooth. Almost inspiring. Are you sure you did the right thing?
Meka Dragon wrote:
> I don't like the name Alyssa though.
Contrary to you I really do like it.
> I don't like the name Alyssa though.
Contrary to you I really do like it.
Creepy...
The fight was well done indeed. Too often where something like this is conveyed you can get lost in flailing limbs and swift movement, and not quite know what's going on, but you carried this off nicely.
I don't like the name Alyssa though.
I don't like the name Alyssa though.
Sorry for my terrible typing, I've straightened it out I think.
Staring vacantly at the man with a shadowy face covered by a dark hood I spluttered the hopelessly clichéd words “What do you want from me?”
In the darkness of the alleyway I couldn’t see his mouth but I knew he was smiling. “Wallet” he said in a rough tone, “your wallet or your life” he quipped, his invisible grin stretching the corners of his mouth widely.
I reached my open palm inside my jacket and felt the touch of leather against my fingertips. My wallet was my life – my credit card, driving licence, Blockbuster rental card, but most importantly pictures of my family – my two sons, Kieran and Adam and my beautiful wife, Alyssa.
My memories were cut short by the shout of “Hurry the f**k up, old man” and my fingers danced over my wallet to the gold-plated Parker fountain pen, the one my business partner bought me on the one-year anniversary of Gildersome-Jackson law associates. My finger and thumb flirted with the lid before pulling it off and sending it with a soft clank to the floor.
The shadowy-faced man glanced straight to the floor at the fallen pen lid and in one fluid movement I pulled the pen out of my pocket and sent the inky nib deep into his cheek. A rough scream rolled over his lips and a clenched fist caught me directly in my right eye. I staggered backwards, stunned, but relished the sight of blood cascading from the man’s cheek and through the fingers pressed over the wound. I struck again, this time with a foot against his knee and knocked him off balance. I then chanced a blow to the man’s face but as I stepped in I felt a knee between my ribs knock the wind out of me and send me to my hands and knees.
Now stood up, the man kicked me again and again in my ribs causing me to roll over and try and get to my feet. A fistful of gravel to the eyes distracted him for long enough to get up again and I launched my fist right into his mouth with a satisfying crack that dislodged a tooth or two. I followed this up by grabbing the man’s face and plunging my thumbs deep into his eyes. His screams of “stop” and “please” went unanswered as I relentlessly continued my onslaught.
I saw in a self-defence book of my wife’s once that if you push hard enough into someone’s eye sockets you will dislodge their eyeball and blind them. This was my plan indeed.
I pushed harder and harder until I was greeted with a dull pop and blood gushed down my thumbs and along my forearms. I then threw the man down by his head and watched him pitifully fall onto his back. His hands clasped against his pouring eye sockets, screaming for help.
I bent down softly next to the man and plucked my Parker fountain pen from his cheek, wiping the blood onto my tie, and placed the pen neatly inside my pocket. With a handkerchief I wiped the blood off of my Gucci loafers, straightened my jacket and walked briskly home to greet my loving family. A silent smile on my lips.
In the darkness of the alleyway I couldn’t see his mouth but I knew he was smiling. “Wallet” he said in a rough tone, “your wallet or your life” he quipped, his invisible grin stretching the corners of his mouth widely.
I reached my open palm inside my jacket and felt the touch of leather against my fingertips. My wallet was my life – my credit card, driving licence, Blockbuster rental card, but most importantly pictures of my family – my two sons, Kieran and Adam and my beautiful wife, Alyssa.
My memories were cut short by the shout of “Hurry the f**k up, old man” and my fingers danced over my wallet to the gold-plated Parker fountain pen, the one my business partner bought me on the one-year anniversary of Gildersome-Jackson law associates. My finger and thumb flirted with the lid before pulling it off and sending it with a soft clank to the floor.
The shadowy-faced man glanced straight to the floor at the fallen pen lid and in one fluid movement I pulled the pen out of my pocket and sent the inky nib deep into his cheek. A rough scream rolled over his lips and a clenched fist caught me directly in my right eye. I staggered backwards, stunned, but relished the sight of blood cascading from the man’s cheek and through the fingers pressed over the wound. I struck again, this time with a foot against his knee and knocked him off balance. I then chanced a blow to the man’s face but as I stepped in I felt a knee between my ribs knock the wind out of me and send me to my hands and knees.
Now stood up, the man kicked me again and again in my ribs causing me to roll over and try and get to my feet. A fistful of gravel to the eyes distracted him for long enough to get up again and I launched my fist right into his mouth with a satisfying crack that dislodged a tooth or two. I followed this up by grabbing the man’s face and plunging my thumbs deep into his eyes. His screams of “stop” and “please” went unanswered as I relentlessly continued my onslaught.
I saw in a self-defence book of my wife’s once that if you push hard enough into someone’s eye sockets you will dislodge their eyeball and blind them. This was my plan indeed.
I pushed harder and harder until I was greeted with a dull pop and blood gushed down my thumbs and along my forearms. I then threw the man down by his head and watched him pitifully fall onto his back. His hands clasped against his pouring eye sockets, screaming for help.
I bent down softly next to the man and plucked my Parker fountain pen from his cheek, wiping the blood onto my tie, and placed the pen neatly inside my pocket. With a handkerchief I wiped the blood off of my Gucci loafers, straightened my jacket and walked briskly home to greet my loving family. A silent smile on my lips.