15 Minute Ficlets - "These tired eyes have seen enough tragedy tonight."
Doing some catching-up work! I was browsing through the past week's prompts that I have missed and came upon Saturday's lyric prompt. It sparked an idea, and thus, I ran with it. :)
June 12, 2010's Prompt:
The arena was littered with carcasses. Blood trickled from gaping wounds, and here or there a few critically wounded creatures still struggled to find enough air to breathe. Broken weapons were scattered everywhere and there were tufts of fur, fist- sized chunks of flesh, and devastation anywhere you looked. The hard-packed dirt ground was slippery with clotting blood and brain matter, and the smell of sweat, struggle, and death was heavy on the air.
The crowd was silent as the last two combatants stared each other down from opposite sides of the coliseum. One was a towering mud-colored sand gargoyle whose grainy, pebbly features were marred and whose wings had been rendered nearly useless. The other was an incredibly well-muscled werewolf, his ears tattered, fangs stained, and black fur matted with blood. They both breathed heavily, their limbs shaking from exhaustion, their muscles aching from exertion. But the pain that was making their eyes water hadn’t come from their wounds. They were both unwilling participants in this bloodshed, having been thrown into the fray and forced to fight scores of ravenous, mindless, soulless creatures whose intelligence and humanity had been beaten, tortured, and starved from them. Somehow these two had made it through their captivity without losing their minds, but as neither of them had been literate to begin with and appeared to be as feral as the rest of them because of their lack of teaching, their captors hadn’t known the difference. And now they were the last two survivors of a massive battle, the bloodshed caused by their own claws and teeth.
Neither of them had wanted to do it. At first they only fought back and killed from self-defense, but soon rage and instinct kicked in and they found themselves as mindless as the rest of them. The crowd had roared as they had ripped off limbs, broken necks, torn out jugulars and spilled enough blood to make the ground muddy. Now that they had exhausted both themselves and their opponents, the two remaining fighters had come back to their senses and realized what they had been doing.
Now, the only escape was death. But only one of them could die, while the other would have to live with their guilt for eternity. There was no easy solution and no way out. If they both refused, they would be beaten to within an inch of their lives and starved for weeks with no hope for mercy.
But it would be worth it. There had been enough bloodshed for one night.
June 12, 2010's Prompt:
The arena was littered with carcasses. Blood trickled from gaping wounds, and here or there a few critically wounded creatures still struggled to find enough air to breathe. Broken weapons were scattered everywhere and there were tufts of fur, fist- sized chunks of flesh, and devastation anywhere you looked. The hard-packed dirt ground was slippery with clotting blood and brain matter, and the smell of sweat, struggle, and death was heavy on the air.
The crowd was silent as the last two combatants stared each other down from opposite sides of the coliseum. One was a towering mud-colored sand gargoyle whose grainy, pebbly features were marred and whose wings had been rendered nearly useless. The other was an incredibly well-muscled werewolf, his ears tattered, fangs stained, and black fur matted with blood. They both breathed heavily, their limbs shaking from exhaustion, their muscles aching from exertion. But the pain that was making their eyes water hadn’t come from their wounds. They were both unwilling participants in this bloodshed, having been thrown into the fray and forced to fight scores of ravenous, mindless, soulless creatures whose intelligence and humanity had been beaten, tortured, and starved from them. Somehow these two had made it through their captivity without losing their minds, but as neither of them had been literate to begin with and appeared to be as feral as the rest of them because of their lack of teaching, their captors hadn’t known the difference. And now they were the last two survivors of a massive battle, the bloodshed caused by their own claws and teeth.
Neither of them had wanted to do it. At first they only fought back and killed from self-defense, but soon rage and instinct kicked in and they found themselves as mindless as the rest of them. The crowd had roared as they had ripped off limbs, broken necks, torn out jugulars and spilled enough blood to make the ground muddy. Now that they had exhausted both themselves and their opponents, the two remaining fighters had come back to their senses and realized what they had been doing.
Now, the only escape was death. But only one of them could die, while the other would have to live with their guilt for eternity. There was no easy solution and no way out. If they both refused, they would be beaten to within an inch of their lives and starved for weeks with no hope for mercy.
But it would be worth it. There had been enough bloodshed for one night.