Here is another example of my writing. As promised I'm putting out Flash Fiction, and this one is in the boxing arena, It is about a character of mine named Conall O'Quinn the fighting Grandfather of Mickey O'Quinn. If you haven't checked out "The O'Quinn Fights" please do so. Mickey O'Quinn is the main character of those stories, and he is an Mixed Martial Arts fighting Staff Sergeant in the Army. Well Mickey has a background and the fighting started with his Grandfather Conall. This is just a short piece, that takes place in the mid 1950's the music was good, the cars were classic, and the fights were fixed.
The punk hit me with a knuckle duster hidden in his glove, just as the bell sounded.
Somehow, I don’t know how, I managed to stumble to my corner of the ring. I still can’t remember if the bell was going off in the ring, or my head, but either way it was the end of the round.
“Come on shake it off,” said Maddy though a hazy, muggy veil.
“Get your head in the fight,” shouted Maddy as he slapped my face and waved salts under my nose.
I was trying to explain to him the guy had hit me with a loaded glove, I was explaining everything perfectly, and then I realized my mouth wasn’t working.
A sudden whiff of the salts cleared my head like a wildfire going through a forest, it hurt and didn’t leave much in its wake.
I held Maddy’s hand as he come around for another slap.
“He got iron in his gloves,” I slurred through a swelling mouth.
“Why that son of a bitch,” chomped Maddy around the edges of the swabs he held in his mouth. “I should’ve known it’d take more than a lucky punch to knock you for a loop like that, especially since he didn’t lay that left on your during the whole round.”
“Do you know the ref?” I asked hoping we could plead our case and getting him to check the slime balls gloves.
“Nahh, he’s one of Lima’s boys,” said Maddy.
Anthony J. Lima, the only crime boss in San Francisco. He’s never crossed me good-wise or bad, since my fight against Barry, and always treated me with respect, even with the friendly invitation to fight for him. I always thought I kept my distance from him, and respectfully declined his invitations. But you don’t know what to expect when your dealing with the likes of a crime boss.
“Is Lima in the crowd?” I asked.
Maddy scanned the crowd quickly,or time between rounds quickly flying away.
“Yea their he is,” said Maddy while jutting his jaw in the direction. “Three rows back.”
I turned my head in his direction an caught his eye just as he was looking in my direction. He shot me an affable smile and gave me a confident thumbs up. I wondered if he knew this fix was in or if he hand anything to do with it?
“What about this punk, “Shimmer” Glavenston?” I asked Maddy. “Is he one of Limas’?”
“I don’t think so the guys out of Mobile,” said Maddy as he went to work on blotting some bloody cuts, and cooling me off.
The bell rang.
I stalked into the ring.
Shimmer, wore a rusty red colored mouthpiece for a smile.
Arrogant in his stance, quick on his feet, his left hung low from the weight he carried.
I stepped in, using my face to block his right jabs, watching the left.
He started from down low with his left, he needed more strength than usual to get the glove going.
I kept my head in his sights.
His right dropped down quick to lend leverage to his heavily weighted left.
The iron packed glove was inches from my head, when I ducked and let his left slip over my head, and slammed his gut with a hard right before his left finished its arc.
Shimmer’s air came out in a gush.
I hit ‘im hard with a left handed uppercut that pushed his jaw up to his nose, and followed with a quick right cross to his already damaged jaw.
Shimmer’s body hit with a loud plop on the canvas.
The ref counted him out.
I started shouting he had iron in his gloves.
The ref looked toward Lima.
I saw the affable smile and an very slight nod before the ref started cutting the strings from Shimmer’s left glove.
I hope you enjoyed the story, drop me a note and let me know what you think.
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