The Incident

The air was cool, the majority of the students had on light coats or sweaters to fight off the chill. It was moving on to mid day and the restlessness of youth was setting in. In the years of growth when one starts to become the man or woman they will soon be, the tensions were high. Boys challenging boys verbally and physically in order to establish rank, all others cheering or booing them on. My mind was made up. The fight was on and no one had the ability to stop the coming events. I slowly made my way into the class where History is normally taught on plain wood tables, but today history would be made. The faint aroma of soap and bleach tickled my nose with each breath growing deeper and deeper. The drum inside my chest beat a steady rhythm so loudly my own thoughts began to fade into the background. There he was, Stanley. Within a second I had gone from innocent youth to savage warrior wielding two powerful hammers. In slow contrived motions my arms cocked back and forth almost robotically, each blow devastating my foe. Up and around we spun, then down to the cold tile floor, back up and around twirling, dancing, beautiful yet brutal. The air now steaming, full of fluid as hot as our bodies, the stench of death and destruction taking control. The taste of iron was beginning to take residence on my lips and tongue. One deep gasp for oxygen and as quickly as it began, it was over. A calm enveloped me as I slumped down my back against the cool sheetrock wall. Hands dripping life and the steady drum beat yielding to the screams of children in chaos. The fight was over.