Keep Movin’ Forward

Punching his stubbly chin felt like smashing into broken glass. This must be what animals feel like when they take on a hedgehog. This was a bad idea. But I threw the punch–no going back now.

The punch was an insulting blow at best, even though it was the hardest I could swing. Dave didn’t punch me back so much as cuff me over the ear open-handed in a “You idiot” kind of way. Even so, I nearly lost my footing and fell over sideways. I couldn’t get hit again.

I dug my knuckles into his lower ribs–that doubled him over a bit, bringing him down to my height. I tried to headbutt him but I missed and drove my forehead into his collarbone. He shoved me away and swung a real punch this time, missing only because I was still reeling back from the shove. Instinctively, I kicked at his shin, an old defense from back in my school days. I scraped my boot along his shinbone and he snarled like a dog, bottom lip shiny with saliva.

He swung a wide arch, more to keep me away wile he recovered from the kick. He overreached, hooking me with his wrist but otherwise avoiding my head with his fist. Taking advantage of the proximity, I battered his core a few times. I was doing it, I was really taking him down!

Then he landed a straight punch, my nose bursting against his knuckles like a popped zit. Blood was all I saw–moving away, then coming back, smashing my lips into my teeth, making me taste my own blood off his fist and from my lip.

Everything in my head told me to hit the ground and play dead, just roll into a ball and protect my brain with my arms. I kept telling myself no. I wouldn’t go down. Rocky would be disappointed if I did.

So I spat away the blood, missing Dave’s eyes completely but surprising him enough to hesitate on his next punch. Go on the defensive, my senseless mind said. Protect. Defend. I ignored it and attacked.

My fist landed on target–his open throat. That hurt him. He reeled back, choking coughs and holding his neck as though choking himself. Maybe it was a dirty shot, but this was a fight–a real fight, not a fair’s fair boxing match. And even though Dave beat me in size and weight, I was the big brother. He needed to remember that.

 


 

 

Day 349’s three random writing prompt categories were, “A fight scene,” “Sibling rivalry,” and, “A hedgehog.”

Boys will be boys.

– H.

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