Apr.+3rd+Free+Write

// Fight. Fight. Fight // The only words that came to Jack Frasier’s mind when he was in the ring. I wasn’t a boxing ring; in fact it wasn’t even a ring at all it was really just a circular piece of concrete surrounded by hordes of violent people, just waiting to see someone’s head hit the ground so hard that small chunks of grey brain and cerebral fluid leaked out and onto the floor. This was Jacks 50th fight it was a big one, especially because he was undefeated. Jack took a punch to the face and fell down although he was knocked to the ground and fists pummeled his face he still had one thought on his mind // Fight. Fight. Fight // Blood spurted from his mouth in a strangely majestic act that normally signals the end of a fight for anyone. It showed weakness and death not far behind // Fight. Fight. Fight // Still ticked through his head like the swinging of a pendulum. His opponent, Frankie Bardino, stood over the mangled Jack Frasier and picked up his foot getting ready to bring his size 11 steel toe boots into his face. Then as the foot came down, blood spurted into the air. Light illuminated the bleak room for a split second. A split second that no one had noticed, but that split second felt like eternity to young Frankie. What Frankie saw was a room. Completely void of any darkness. In this strange iridescent room Frankie saw Jack. Jack sat in the room cross-legged, in a highly meditative state.

Unfinished