The coffee tastes bitter as he takes a sip from the Styrofoam cup in his hand. The city passes him by as makes his way along the sidewalk cradling the coffee cup in both hands. He doesn’t need to be anywhere so he just walks. Alone in a city of millions. Its been three months since he lost his job. The third round of cuts at the paper where he had worked for more than a decade. They had said things like “circulation is down” and “people just don’t read the news anymore”. Didn’t matter what excuses they gave, he was surplus to requirements. His savings were getting low now and he needed a job but no one was hiring. The 24 hour news cycles and easily accessible and free news sites meant people picked out what they felt was newsworthy these days. He could try something new, hell maybe he should sell his city apartment and start again somewhere else but this place was as much part of him now as his birthplace was. I could rob a bank he thought to himself but whose he trying to kid. That’s just not his way Continue reading Show me a Hero.
Champions aren’t made in gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them–a desire, a dream, a vision. They have to have last-minute stamina, they have to be a little faster. They have to have the skill and the will, but the will must be stronger than the skill. Muhammed Ali
There’s rain dripping in through the roof of the marquee, mixing with the sweat pouring from my whole body and diluting the blood from the cut under my left eye. I can hear voices around me but they’re drowned out by the sound of my lungs noisily pulling in as much air as they can. There’s a sharp pain with every breath which tells me some ribs are busted. My hands hurt, my legs feel disconnected from the rest of my body and my eye is almost swollen shut. End of the thirteenth, two to go. My eye stings as my corner man goes to work on it. I eye the crowd baying for more blood, my blood. The man in the opposite corner is theirs, their local boy, their hero and their champion. Continue reading Fight Night
I lost it. I just woke up and it wasn’t there. I haven’t written a word in weeks and weeks so I’m trying something new. Its started here at Medium. Hopefully it’ll kick start my fiction again. We’ll see.
A little 100ish word story for Microcosms. The prompts were Time Traveller and Medieval Europe.
“So if you’re Arthur, this bearded dude must be Merlin”
“Merlin? Yes. Dude?”
“Have you done the sword thing yet? Course you have, there’s a crown on your head. Been to the lake?”
“Oh he’s cool, you can trust him. Watch out for his old man though.”
“Galahad, Lancelot’s boy. He’s a good guy. He gets the Grail. Lancelot’s a bit of a …… well you know.”
“Lancelot’s my most devoted ally.”
“Yeah, about that. Don’t trust him with your old lady. Is that her? Damn! She. Is. Fine!”
“Who are you?”
“You’ll find out in Avalon. And about 1000 years or so”
I had this playing in my head when I wrote Show Me a Hero