Through a boundary

3rd creative writing assignment: Pick a physical boundary that narrator is looking through. Describe what narrator is seeing through the boundary, and must illicit a reaction in the character (narrator – can be fictitious). E.g.: someone waiting in the wings about to go on stage; looking through a fence; someone paralyzed in bed, describing what they see; a girl looking in the mirror with anorexia.


Finally! David’s entrance song is playing. There he is, walking in his embroidered black satin robe. It’s hard to make him out, surrounded as he is by his coaches and posse. Oh my, look at him, climbing into the ring. God, he is a breathtakingly beautiful thug. How is it possible to be this physically affected by him, from such a distance?! He can’t see me from the ring – good thing too, that boy needs to stay focused. I don’t want him distracted for a millisecond, too dangerous. And really, I don’t want him to notice how worried I am. We aren’t anything official, he said he wanted to keep things casual. Casual means not freaking out that he might get hurt. I need to get a grip. The fight hasn’t even started, and I am already restless.

Why must there be so much blahblahblah before the fight? They are in the ring, both of them, everybody knows the rules already, they are professional boxers. Can we get this over with? My blood-pressure can’t handle the wait. I just want him safe. And I want him to win. Oh god, I want him to win, he deserves it so much. Fine. I just want him to win, and if he gets a little bashed up, that’s an ok tradeoff, I think. Because of course the Universe will negotiate with me about David’s fight. Right. Me, out of all of his almost-groupies, telling the Universe what to do, how cute. But seriously though, please, Universe, let him win without any serious injury. He is pretty – Ronda Rousey says that the prettiest fighters are the most dangerous, because that means they haven’t taken many hits. His opponent is ugly-as-fuck. That’s a good sign, I hope. Or maybe his opponent knows he is ugly-as-fuck, feels he has nothing to lose and will enjoy bashing in David’s face. Why is the ref still talking?!

I can’t handle 10 rounds of this. I can’t watch this. This sport is stupid. Any moment, and one of them might land a life-changing punch. Oh lordy, his opponent isn’t half-bad. Shit. I can’t. David needs to focus, get solid on his feet, why is he so twitchy? I hope he doesn’t run out of gas. JAB HIM. JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAB, YEAH LIKE THAT! YEAH! DAVID GO GO GO! Oye, I’m louder than the rednecks sitting next to me. Like he can hear me. JAB DAMMIT JAB! RIGHT! YES THAT’S IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!

What round are we at already? They are all blurring into one big mess, I can’t follow, they seem to have been fighting since forever, this is endless and horrible. Oh, there is the ring girl, thank goodness she has sexy stage-presence, she gives me something to blindly focus on to calm my breathing. Lol, I am calming my breathing, in between rounds. Because I am exhausted. Ha. Wonder how David is feeling. He looks concentrated, breathing a bit hard, as he listens to his coach. That last hook to the head rattled him, I can tell. I hope his legs come back quickly. What? The bell already?! This sport is stupid.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS!!!!!! What an uppercut! That guy went down like timber! It’s done! It’s over! Hahaha that was amazing!!!! Look at David jumping up and down in victory! He looks like a 5 year old boy, except in a man’s body, wearing boxing gloves, and there is a guy unconscious on the mat next to him. Oh man, my legs are shaky from relief. Casual, right. I’m in trouble. Wait, did he just see me? He did see me! He just smiled at me! Boy just landed his second knock-out punch of the evening. One smile from him across the room, and I can’t breathe. Oye. I am so happy.

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