The Work of a Tryant
By Evelyn Ashby
My laughter echoed through the general store as I heartily slapped my friend on the back.
“Oh Jake, leave it to you to get an ornery, untrained horse that you have no need for. Old Ben sure can smooth talk you, can’t he?” I shook my head in delight, my friend glowering at me through his lopsided grin. He laughed as he said,
“I tried working with him yesterday, and Russell, he’s not alive, he’s living.”
I was about to reply and ask more about the horse, Derro, when there was a noise from outside. I looked past Jake’s shoulder to where the door stood open, giving me a glimpse to what was going on.
A group of ten or more men stood in a circle, some laughing, some frowning, and others looked uneasy.
I glanced at Jake, a look of curiosity on my face. He turned to see what I was looking at and a moment later we walked up to the circle.
In the middle, surrounded by the laughter of enjoyment and the silence of disapproval, stood two young men. They were both of the same height, but one gave the impression of being taller. Perhaps it was his air of arrogance, or maybe it was the slouched position in which the other stood - I know not. I opened my mouth to ask a question, but the arrogant boy beat me to it.
“What’s with the frown, coward?” The coward (whether that was true I didn’t know) lifted his head ever so slightly and opened his mouth, but nothing came from his lips.
I was, like you are, confused. I had no clue what was going on, and personally I didn’t like the looks of what I saw. My brows furrowed into displeasure.
Mr. Arrogance sneered at the young man before him,
“You are a coward aren’t you?” His hand flew from his pockets and slapped him, painting his cheek bright red. The crowd murmured both approval and disapproval. The boy’s eyes smarted and watered, but he didn’t move and silence stood over his mouth.
I stepped forward to try to break it up but the tall one saw me and interfered, turning on his foot,
“Come to save the day hot shot?”
“What has he done, sir, that requires such harsh treatment?”
“Nothing that concerns you, sir.” He threw his voice at me, mimicking scornfully my words of respect.
“Oh well you see,” I slowly smiled, giving him a look of one who is trying to explain a complex problem. “I make it my concern.” My words bounced from my lips and then off of him. His face twisted into annoyance.
“I’ve got it under control, thank you Sir.” He gave a low bow of mock politeness. His body bent in two for but a moment. It was as straight as a rod in the next, and a fist came flying towards my expression of disgust.
I ducked, barely missing the shot. Straightening I cocked an eyebrow at him, a mistake I then realized, for it only made him more upset. He stepped forward his eyes narrowed, opening and closing his fist. Five fingers, zero fingers, five fingers... zero. I focused on them watching their every move.
Then, the coward said his first words,
“Your fight is with me,” he paused and you could hear his quick breathing of fear, “not him.”
The young man in front of me smiled, “Oh is it?” In a movement that was as smooth as his words, he turned and landed the clenched fist in the boy's face. With a groan, he crumpled to the ground.
The flames of anger and annoyance that I had been trying to smother, rose high into my throat. I grabbed the boys shoulder that was turned towards me - the only part of of his upper body that wasn't jeering at the fallen boy. My hand twisted and pushed causing the arrogant face to gaze at me once more.
"That was uncalled for!" This time I left off the respectful title, this man did not deserve it.
He looked surprised,
"Was it? Because I could've sworn he asked for it with those few 'brave' words." He laughed as he pronounced the word 'brave', making it clear that he thought they were anything but that.
The laughter that had echoed around us minutes earlier was gone and in it's place an awkward silence reigned.
I glanced around at the men,
"Do you do this for them? To show of your power to be able to injure a fellow man with both words and fist? It's disgusting." I grabbed his collar and pulled him close."You want to know something? I'll tell you a secret."
He struggled against my grip and tried to use his arms.
"Shut up and leave." He spat at me.
I looked from the boy that still lay on the ground in a crumpled heap to the boy that stood struggling in my grasp. "Hear me out then I'll leave and you can shut up."
I looked him in the eye and with a voice that caused fear to rise in his heart, and the crowd to looked down with ashamed embarrassment, I said,
“Everyone, hates a bully.”
The boy’s eyes widened slightly then thinned to a line. “Your mouth knows what to do, but does your fist?” He twisted from my grasp, and tried again to deliver me a fist full of pain.
I managed once again to moved out of the way and stepped quietly behind him. He pivoted on his foot and swung around.
“I said your fist, wimp.” His face twisted into the sneer that I had learned to hate in such a short amount of time.
“Oh no need to repeat it, I understood you. But do you understand me when I say that, you may wish I was a liar?” The sneer lessened as his face turned to confusion. I answered the unspoken question,
“Because my answer is yes.”
My hand clenching the anger I felt flew towards his face and as he ducked to avoid it my second fist lowered and squarely hit him in the face; breaking his sneer. I watched with satisfaction as it fell to pieces on the ground.
He crumpled in the same manner the coward had, and I felt a guilty pleasure in watching him do so. Walking over I stood over him as he rolled over gasping for breath, his broken sneer bleeding in several places. “Do I need to repeat myself?” My words fell onto his chest ringing a reminder that he had been defeated.
I turned before my words even hit his chest, and walking over to the unconscious boy I picked up him up.
I glanced around at the varied expressions of the men: some looked at me with respect, some with bewilderment, and others with amusement. I made eye contact with my friend who stood with quiet approval,
“Jake, let’s go.” I stepped around the bully and walked away, leaving the murmuring questions behind me.
* * * * * * * * * * *
This short story is in response to Character Inspiration {picture} #1.
I expect to someday write another off of the readers' choices (thank you for participating!), but for now I should really work on my book.
I hope you enjoy it, because to tell the truth I didn't really know how this came about. It just did. I mean, seriously. I know nothing about fist fights. :)
<3 Eva
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