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They stand opposite each other, eyes locked, surrounded by a circle of kids and school bags. It's that time again. When all the kids get excited, talking amongst themselves, waiting for the bell that signals the race to the field to get a good place, not too close that a flying fist may hit them, but not too far away so they don't end up on tip toes trying to peer over a load of greasy haired heads. It's fight time.
One of the participants, Wayne, is the local hard kid. All he has to do is knock the other boy down and it'll put him back on top, make sure people don't forget who he is. Like his brother before him, he earns respect with his fists, preying on the small, the weak and, in his eyes, the pathetic. Those who don't play football, those who don't drink or smoke, those who do their homework, get in on time every day and don't swear at teachers. Anyone who isn't in his clique. He is confident of his abilities; anyone who steps out of line is beaten until they acknowledge he is the leader. He knows what he's doing.
The other is slightly less confident. Will is smaller than his opponent, and save for a scrap over a He-Man figure when he was 5, has never been in a fight before. With butterflies in his stomach, a tingling in his arms and legs and a feeling of dread, he knows there's no way out now. He'd been singled out, chosen by the lumbering beast before him. God knows why, it was just his turn. He'd been unable to escape. Amidst cat calls he'd try to run home as soon as the bell rang, but was soon dragged back by a group of lackeys. Dragged back to the waiting bunch of blood thirsty students and him - his would be attacker, who had been eyeballing the smaller child ever since.
Two cronies take Wayne's bag and coat from him and fade back into the crowd. Will looks around, looking for somewhere to place his things, but only finds insults and kicks and punches from the partisan crowd. They want to see him get torn to pieces. They also don't want to be next, so they'll help Wayne in any way they can. Former friends spit at Will, unwilling to be seen with him for fear of bodily harm. Will is as alone as anyone could ever possibly be. Betrayed, hurt and his clothes ripped and shredded by the mob, tears start to form in his eyes, causing an uproar of laughter as they mock him, pretending to rub their eyes and asking him if he wants his mummy.
A smirk appears on Wayne's face - the crowd in his palm, the opponent intimidated to the point of crying, this will be a push over. He takes one step towards Will, who in turn takes a step back, only to be quickly shoved forward again by the angry crowd. Wayne draws back his fist and launches it into Will's face, sending him crashing into the people behind him. They throw him to the floor and laugh. Wayne joins in the laughter. One punch was all it took, and the kid is on the ground, still wearing his coat and bag, crying and bleeding from the lip. Still laughing, Wayne turns and heads towards his cronies who hold out his bag and coat for him to collect.
Why me? Will asks. Why can't they leave me alone? Why can't I be at home right now like any other day, watching TV and waiting for my tea? Why was today different? What gives him the right to do this to me? The questions build up in young Will's mind, and without answers, only enrage him further. Why me? he continually asks himself. What gives him the RIGHT? runs over again and again. The laughter becomes distant, distorted. All he can hear is the voice in his head. It tells him to get up. He does. It tells him to charge after Wayne, to fight back, to get revenge. And he does just that. With a roar, little Will runs at Wayne and tackles him to the ground as he pulls his coat on. Will has him pinned down and starts hammering away at Wayne's head with his fists. It hurts, but it's worth it. Wayne, still in utter shock, tries his best to get his hands up to protect himself. He doesn't even know who's hitting him.
Will hits him harder. And harder. He's getting revenge for himself, and for the countless others before him.
Reality kicks in for Will, who had been running on auto pilot. Here he is, striking Wayne Bell, the hardest kid in school. His senses come back, first sight then sound. The crowd comes into focus. They are stunned and silent. Then begin to cheer. They're cheering for Will. Will looks down at Wayne, who is still trying to cover his face while muttering for him to stop. Will looks at his hands; bruised, cut, bleeding.
He stops, starts to stand up, almost ashamed with what he's done. Then he's dragged off Wayne and set upon by Wayne's cronies. They kick and beat him until he temporarily slips out of consciousness. This is the price he must pay for embarrassing Wayne, for daring to fight back. The now pro-Will crowd can only watch as they continue to punch and kick his head. Eventually Wayne gets up, gingerly touching his bleeding nose.
The beating ends as abruptly as it started. A teacher perhaps? Somebody's parents? Had the crowd pulled them off him? No. It was Wayne. Through his one open eye, Will can see Wayne towering over him. Will curses to himself, the beating has only paused so Wayne can join in. Things are about to get worse. Much worse. He closes his eyes and braces himself.
Nothing. Cautiously he opens his eye and sees Wayne extending a hand to him. Will doesn’t know what to do. Is he offering to help him up? Why would he do such a thing? Is it a trap?
Auto-pilot takes over again, and Will's arm goes out and is clutched by Wayne. With one effortless lift, Will is hauled back up to his feet. Wayne slings his bag over his shoulder and walks off; the crowd rushing to get out of his way. The cronies look on in amazement before running to catch up with their master. The crowd noise has died down to a whisper. They’re as confused as Will.
Will looks around. His bag and coat had come off during the fight and have been trampled into the ground. The crowd starts to disperse, muttering amongst themselves about what had happened. Picking up his possessions, Will starts to walk home, dreading what his mother will say when he steps into the house covered with cuts and bruises. He doesn't know why the fight had started, but he had an idea why it had stopped.
One of the participants, Wayne, is the local hard kid. All he has to do is knock the other boy down and it'll put him back on top, make sure people don't forget who he is. Like his brother before him, he earns respect with his fists, preying on the small, the weak and, in his eyes, the pathetic. Those who don't play football, those who don't drink or smoke, those who do their homework, get in on time every day and don't swear at teachers. Anyone who isn't in his clique. He is confident of his abilities; anyone who steps out of line is beaten until they acknowledge he is the leader. He knows what he's doing.
The other is slightly less confident. Will is smaller than his opponent, and save for a scrap over a He-Man figure when he was 5, has never been in a fight before. With butterflies in his stomach, a tingling in his arms and legs and a feeling of dread, he knows there's no way out now. He'd been singled out, chosen by the lumbering beast before him. God knows why, it was just his turn. He'd been unable to escape. Amidst cat calls he'd try to run home as soon as the bell rang, but was soon dragged back by a group of lackeys. Dragged back to the waiting bunch of blood thirsty students and him - his would be attacker, who had been eyeballing the smaller child ever since.
Two cronies take Wayne's bag and coat from him and fade back into the crowd. Will looks around, looking for somewhere to place his things, but only finds insults and kicks and punches from the partisan crowd. They want to see him get torn to pieces. They also don't want to be next, so they'll help Wayne in any way they can. Former friends spit at Will, unwilling to be seen with him for fear of bodily harm. Will is as alone as anyone could ever possibly be. Betrayed, hurt and his clothes ripped and shredded by the mob, tears start to form in his eyes, causing an uproar of laughter as they mock him, pretending to rub their eyes and asking him if he wants his mummy.
A smirk appears on Wayne's face - the crowd in his palm, the opponent intimidated to the point of crying, this will be a push over. He takes one step towards Will, who in turn takes a step back, only to be quickly shoved forward again by the angry crowd. Wayne draws back his fist and launches it into Will's face, sending him crashing into the people behind him. They throw him to the floor and laugh. Wayne joins in the laughter. One punch was all it took, and the kid is on the ground, still wearing his coat and bag, crying and bleeding from the lip. Still laughing, Wayne turns and heads towards his cronies who hold out his bag and coat for him to collect.
Why me? Will asks. Why can't they leave me alone? Why can't I be at home right now like any other day, watching TV and waiting for my tea? Why was today different? What gives him the right to do this to me? The questions build up in young Will's mind, and without answers, only enrage him further. Why me? he continually asks himself. What gives him the RIGHT? runs over again and again. The laughter becomes distant, distorted. All he can hear is the voice in his head. It tells him to get up. He does. It tells him to charge after Wayne, to fight back, to get revenge. And he does just that. With a roar, little Will runs at Wayne and tackles him to the ground as he pulls his coat on. Will has him pinned down and starts hammering away at Wayne's head with his fists. It hurts, but it's worth it. Wayne, still in utter shock, tries his best to get his hands up to protect himself. He doesn't even know who's hitting him.
Will hits him harder. And harder. He's getting revenge for himself, and for the countless others before him.
Reality kicks in for Will, who had been running on auto pilot. Here he is, striking Wayne Bell, the hardest kid in school. His senses come back, first sight then sound. The crowd comes into focus. They are stunned and silent. Then begin to cheer. They're cheering for Will. Will looks down at Wayne, who is still trying to cover his face while muttering for him to stop. Will looks at his hands; bruised, cut, bleeding.
He stops, starts to stand up, almost ashamed with what he's done. Then he's dragged off Wayne and set upon by Wayne's cronies. They kick and beat him until he temporarily slips out of consciousness. This is the price he must pay for embarrassing Wayne, for daring to fight back. The now pro-Will crowd can only watch as they continue to punch and kick his head. Eventually Wayne gets up, gingerly touching his bleeding nose.
The beating ends as abruptly as it started. A teacher perhaps? Somebody's parents? Had the crowd pulled them off him? No. It was Wayne. Through his one open eye, Will can see Wayne towering over him. Will curses to himself, the beating has only paused so Wayne can join in. Things are about to get worse. Much worse. He closes his eyes and braces himself.
Nothing. Cautiously he opens his eye and sees Wayne extending a hand to him. Will doesn’t know what to do. Is he offering to help him up? Why would he do such a thing? Is it a trap?
Auto-pilot takes over again, and Will's arm goes out and is clutched by Wayne. With one effortless lift, Will is hauled back up to his feet. Wayne slings his bag over his shoulder and walks off; the crowd rushing to get out of his way. The cronies look on in amazement before running to catch up with their master. The crowd noise has died down to a whisper. They’re as confused as Will.
Will looks around. His bag and coat had come off during the fight and have been trampled into the ground. The crowd starts to disperse, muttering amongst themselves about what had happened. Picking up his possessions, Will starts to walk home, dreading what his mother will say when he steps into the house covered with cuts and bruises. He doesn't know why the fight had started, but he had an idea why it had stopped.
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Read my poem and comment please :-) I've spent enough time decoding your pidgin english!
Good, have a cookie.
I get it now
would-be
:-D
:-D
Paradox: wrote:
> "his would be THE attacker"
>
> then I would be happy.
--------
No, you don't get what I'm saying. What you've said makes no sense.
"him - his would be attacker" him being Wayne and the "his would be attacker" explaing who he is.
Get it?
> "his would be THE attacker"
>
> then I would be happy.
--------
No, you don't get what I'm saying. What you've said makes no sense.
"him - his would be attacker" him being Wayne and the "his would be attacker" explaing who he is.
Get it?
"his would be THE attacker"
then I would be happy.
then I would be happy.
"him - his would be attacker, who had been eyeballing the smaller child ever since."
Him - the kid he's got to fight, who'd been staring at him ever since.
Happy?
Him - the kid he's got to fight, who'd been staring at him ever since.
Happy?
First four words dont quite make sense still, i can't put my finger on why not though.
Paradox: wrote:
> "his would be attacker, who had been eyeballing the smaller
> child ever since."
--------
It was "who had been eyeballing him ever since" but there were too many "him"s.
Stupid words.
> "his would be attacker, who had been eyeballing the smaller
> child ever since."
--------
It was "who had been eyeballing him ever since" but there were too many "him"s.
Stupid words.
Well, I read it, and I liked it, but I dont really have anything to say for some reason.
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