Stretch: The Cataclysm
Writing Exercise #20
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Stretch: Write from an omniscient pov
Like binary stars locked in a terminal, spiraling embrace, doomed to terminate in a cataclysmic union; so were the two generals Drummond and Marks locked in a struggle within the confines of their martial branches. For years, these two men saw no other enemy than each other; for years, these two men fought with procedure, fought with gossip, fought with influence. For years, these two men climbed the ranks until nothing stood between them but each other. Their sacrifices had been great, their ambition greater, their hatred greater still.
A tense peace resulted between them—each waiting for the other to make a mistake. But, like astronomical bodies passing in the depths of space, if they came too close there was no choice but confrontation.
On one hot summer evening, with stars rendering their judgement indifferently over the warm orange glow of streetlights, the two men found themselves at cross paths. The one, Drummond, an immovable object crossing the parking lot from the secure facility after a strategy meeting. The other, Marks, an unstoppable force approaching perpendicularly from a logistics meeting with his own branch. Their cars, by some twist of fate, the only two in the lot at this hour—right next to each other.
Drummond, joylessly, spotted Marks first. He said, loudly enough for his voice to pass through the thick afterglow of the summer sun, radiating from the asphalt: “Let’s not do this again, Marks.”
“What’s there to do, Drummond?” Came the reply, as Marks held his arms out defiantly.
“I’ve just spent all day in meetings trying to clean up your mess,” Drummond rumbled.
“MY mess, oh that is rich. I guess you need some straw man to justify your bloated corpse of a bureaucracy. Might as well be me, eh?”
Drummond clenched his fists. “What else are you good for?” he jeered.
It was at this point that Marks changed course—no longer striding confidently towards his car but swaggering directly towards Drummond. Drummond reciprocated.
“You know what, Drummond, let’s do this again.”
“It’s been too long.” Drummond grinned mirthlessly.
Marks’ strides accelerated to a run, while Drummond stopped and planted himself. “COME ON,” Marks shouted.
Marks tackled Drummond at full speed, and despite himself Drummond fell to the ground with him. Drummond flailed, clawing at Marks’ face, while Marks grappled for Drummonds arm.
Drummond growled as his arm was briefly caught behind his back, but mustering his strength withdrew his arm from Marks’ grip and rained blows upon Marks’ face, his fists falling like asteroids, devastating a dead planet. It was Marks’ turn to laugh between blows and gasping breaths.
Tears flowed freely from Drummond’s eyes—part joy, part fear, part rage, as Marks’ face became unrecognizable. Marks shouted one last rebuke—“You’re Finished!”—as Drummond landed one final blow, to silence the bloody man.
Drummond looked at the man, his nemesis, his enemy—the mans life flowing freely onto the pavement. Drummond fell over on his back.
Hate radiated up to the stars.
(500 words)
Talk to me!
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Have you ever been in a fight?
Do you know strategies for de-escalating angry people (including yourself)?
Any vacation plans this summer?
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1. A physical altercation, no, not that I recall. Good thing too; I'd almost certainly lose that one.
2. With the kiddo, we like to take a deep breath, and count from one to four with monkeys, like so: "One monkey, two monkey, three monkey, four monkey." Except more often than not one of us with (accidentally on purpose) make a mistake and then we start over. (Eleventy monkeys? Eleventy is not a real number!) . By the end we're laughing and not mad any more.
3. Newport Aquarium, maybe. I've been once; the penguins are really fun. And overall it's just a fun place in general.
thanks for sharing. drunken fights. but that didnt go on for long. on the street once a guy with a chair and another guy with a knife. it happened very fast too. fights now are over quickly bam bam bam. the idea of a long fight to me is choreographed. all professional fighting has rules. even cage fights which are just cocks fighting to "the death" == oh --- now domestic fights, they go on for days... years.. love can be a fight for itself just to survive, my nana was like that.