The Fight of Francis

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
The tale of a stray man named Francis and a night he will never forget.

Submitted: July 12, 2019

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Submitted: July 12, 2019

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Francis huddled up in the corner, not wanting to be noticed anymore. He'd finally done it, the thing he promised he would never do. He'd begged. Living on the street for months now, he didn't know how it got this bad. He just couldn't seem to get it together. He knew if he was sensible, and he utilized the services available, he wouldn't starve or go to long without a wash. Sure, he'd have to sleep outside most nights, he'd have to be ever vigilant so as not to become a victim, but he'd be free. He'd done this to himself, he was here not by circumstance but by choice. He hadn't known how clogged the services for the homeless were, how disorganized and full the system was. The soup kitchen was always full, and more often than not was out of food well before everyone had eaten. On the days he did get something, he had to eat quickly so as not to be targeted by someone more hungry than he. So he'd done it, he'd begged on the street all day, he'd 'earned' he hated calling it that, no he'd 'been given' $23 dollars, he'd bought three hamburgers and a large bottle of water and a new blanket to keep him warm on the increasingly colder nights. He felt shame but at least his stomach was full, and he wasn't so cold. Tomorrow was a new day, he would find a place to wash as best he could, himself and his clothes and find a way to find a bit more stability in his new life. He closed his eyes and steeled himself with the reassurance that tomorrow was the start of a better future and drifted off into a light sleep.

He awoke with a start, realizing there was a hand on his mouth and a heavy body on top of him. He struggled violently. It was useless, there were three of them, they tied him up, blindfolded him and threw him in the back of a truck. He was terrified, why were they taking him!? he was no one. They drove quickly, with little regard with what was in the back of the truck. Francis quickly realized he wasn't the only one in there. He heard others, just as blind and restrained as he grunted and fell into each other on the Brutal journey. They would could hear the door open and other unfortunate souls get thrown in. This continued for sometime, Francis estimated there were about 11 of them by the time the truck finally stopped for good. They were ushered rudely out of the truck by rough hands and gruff voices. They were shoved in a corner and told to sit. Their blindfolds removed to reveal their surrounding, a large empty and decrepit warehouse. A man in a mask stood over them. Francis could see his estimate was nearly correct, he was one among eleven others, making the total number of abductees twelve. Francis even recognized one of them as a brutal fellow who'd once stolen his meal at one of the charity kitchens. The man in front of them spoke and all 12 listened silent and terrified.

'We are going to have a contest, whomever wins will be given this!' The masked figure pulled out a small wad of cash.
'$500' he said. 'The contest is simple, you shall fight, until you are the only one standing...'

The man continued to speak, as Francis quickly realized that behind the man there were camera's pointed towards a crude arena. Before his mind had too much time to wander he quickly realized that two of the men had been thrown into the ring together. One was far more brutal and enthusiastic than the other, clearly vying for the $500 on offer. Francis realized it was none other than the thief. Before he knew it he was in the ring with another victim of this sick game. Both were a little uncertain of what to do, both stricken by fear. Francis had little time to think however as the other man charged at him. He'd never been in a fight before, but he knew a thing or two. Francis grabbed the mans arm's and threw him to the ground, he wasn't thinking at this point, some primal part of Francis took over. He sat upon the poor man, and pummeled him. The fight was won. The 6 winners of the first fights were paired up and the second round ensued. The next man was far more able and Francis found himself on the receiving end of a hail of punches. He quickly fell to the ground and received a barrage of kicks to the torso and head, some of which he managed to block. Francis frantically grabbed the mans leg and pulled with as much ferocity as he could muster. The attacker fell and Francis climbed on top. He placed his knee in the mans crouch and winced as his face was scratched and clawed at in a frenzy, Francis punched the mans face three times, hard and quickly, he cringed as he heard his skull thud against the floor. He lay there, breathing and barely conscious. Before he knew it he was in the ring with the meal thief and another brute of a man. They were told to fight. All three moved cautiously towards the center of the room. Francis saw a large fist come towards his face and before he could react it was lights out. The rest of the night was a daze. He remembers being bundled up and thrown back into the truck and thrown out sometime later. He vomited and realized his head was bleeding. He crawled into the corner of a building, curled up and drifted into unconsciousness...


© Copyright 2020 C. Edwards. All rights reserved.

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