The hour had finally come. It was time for Timothy’s first battle. His palms were sweaty, his heart throbbing relentlessly. He was in the pit, surrounded by darkness and just moments from its massive door being opened and entering the Colosseum. There, forty thousand spectators were waiting for more blood to flow.
He had only a brief look in the distance at his opponent. He had a very small and thin torso, but had a normal sized head and dressed immaculately. In another existence maybe they could have been friends, having probably encountered many of the same issues in life but not in the here and now. One of them would live, the other would die.
Instinctively, he could feel the power of the falcon-X super wheelchair beneath him. He had felt elated, yet queasy as the chainsaw was adjusted into position in front of him over an hour previously to ensure that he could still see in front of him. Then the door was closed and he was told to wait for his turn.
The door began to slowly open. The light shone through, squelching his eyes. He pushed the joystick forward and drove into the amphitheater. The crowd were raucous baying for blood. His opponent was coming towards him and armed with what Timothy quickly realized was the feared steel pellet gun. A direct hit would slice through Timothy’s body and he knew it. The weapon had a drawback though, it only fired every few seconds.
Timothy drove towards his opponent but in large loops out to the left and then to the right. He would simple stop if a pellet looked like it might hit and then watch it aimlessly pass by. But this got more difficult the closer and closer they became. Timothy realized that his opponent was firing as furiously as he could and that it took seven seconds to reload. The shots were getting closer to him now. One, just missed him and instead of continuing his ark, he went straight at his horrified opponent. Timing was everything.
Timothy’s chainsaw cut through his body just before he could fire again. The impact jerked Timothy forward drenching him in blood. The crowd roared its approval. For a few second, he soaked up their approval. Timothy reversed his wheelchair and was embraced from behind by his father shouting –
“You’ve done! You’ve done”
But Timothy could also hear cries of anguish and despair in the distance.
Mark's Writing Corner 