A Very Rough Draft

[spiritusvult]

I would still consider myself new to this section, so please let me know how it works, and also let me know what you think about this. I call it The Fires of the World. Perhaps a first of a series.

The Fires of the World

Leaning forward, Jack rested his forearms on the arm support as his bracer was laced into place. He could feel his blood being constricted, but with it he knew he would not be braking his wrist from the force of his blows. One by one the laces were drawn tight and with each, he winced.

The smell of sweat and blood filled the air as the previous contenders entered the locker room, glad to be done with their matches, and with their fates sealed. Victory was theirs, but the joy of it was taken from them as their defeated foes were led back into the slave pits. In the arena they had mercilessly beaten each other, knowing that the winner gained not only his freedom, but also his choice of stations. The possibility of spending their remaining days in the mines was a small price to pay when compared to that.

Jack, the only fighter who chose to stay in the arena after winning, not once, but over four hundred and fifty matches, had earned the respect of all those entered into contest, as well as that of the entertained. His fame had spread far and wide, but these things meant nothing to him. Neither was he interested in the various pleasures his career afforded him: women, wealth, freedom, it all was as nothing.

Instead, he lived for the power he felt flowing through him as he entered the battleground. He had not been modified by the technicians, like so many others, He had no muscle enhancements, no auditory nor visual upgrades. What he had he did not understand. It wasn’t that he was simply stronger, or faster, or could take more punishment from his foes. It was something else entirely, something he spent the first few years of his now extensive period as champion considering.

Yet, to no avail. He was no closer to understanding now as he was when he had first sought out the truth. All he knew was that each time he went into the ring, his body would feel a oneness with all things. All time ceased, all cared faded, all sounds hushed to a flowing stream. And always there was the heat, a pulsing, penetrating blast that did not stop until he left the match.

Looking into the eyes of his overseer he said, “Another time, another way, today we are alive. Perhaps tomorrow we will be consumed.â€

[EireWolf]

Good writing. You said it might be the first of a series -- would this be a series with the same main character? It would be interesting to gradually discover his past.

As I read it I was sort of picturing a futuristic "Gladiator." Interesting!

[spiritusvult]

Thanks wolf. Not too sure about the continuing direction. I'll probably go in a completely different direction though. It's an idea I've been toying with for the past several months. Just takes some time to get moving. Somewhere between my desire for employment and an inspiriation. Anyway, more to come....