Gut Punch Journal - Entry 1

This story, well now stories, started off as a standalone short, meant to be a one off tale that sparked unexpected interest. Got a few comments and request about wanting more, and so here we are! "Series" with feature recurring characters, themes, and an expanding world that continues to unfold, one story at a time.

January 17, 2024

It... Damn.

Sorry....Ffs I'm apologizing in writing to paper.

I must really be messed up... 

OK focus... It's still a lot to process. Feelings suck sometimes. 

OK... So, I remember it was bad. Even now weeks later, I can still feel the phantom pains of it all. My stomach still jerks and pulsates when I'm still. My therapist said writing it down might help. 

I think it's bullshit, they could never really understand all this, but when your shit insurance is finally paying for something, I guess you gotta do. 

So here goes... 

 

It was raining hard, I can see and remember that clearly. It was the kind of bullshit rain that soaked you down to the bone, and made every breath feel like steam off a dying fire. It was like I was in some dark YouTube video or found footage horror movie. What I don't know... Is how it started. Maybe it was something I said? He said? Maybe the other guy was just looking for someone to bleed? Maybe we both had to much to drink and did something really stupid? 

I really don't know... 

Maybe that's why I can't let this go. Not knowing does things to the mind. Maybe I'm not realizing something yet? Anyways, all I do remember is I blinked, and I was outside in the alley, some dirty back alley behind the bar, and this guy was standing in front of me with his fists clenched tight like iron.

He didn’t speak, just paced angerly. The rain made his skin shine, his shirt tight, muscles twitching like they were on a hair trigger. He was same age as me and about the same build. Average, maybe, but every inch of him said he was about to make me feel everything bad in the world. He wanted to make me hurt. 

Then he moved. Gods he was fast. 

The Clash of Egos – Mikey vs. Celticfire

Part of the shorts series. Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time.


When the match was announced, it came as a surprise to no one. Both wielded and flung smack talk easily as any person would breathe. The stage was set, the date had come and now? The crowd was electric, the roar deafening as two bear-like men stood face-to-face in the center of the ring. On one side, Mikey, a powerhouse wrapped in muscle and rage, eyes burning with intensity. Some said his mouth moved faster than his fists. Today he would prove them all wrong. On the other side, Celticfire, full of self pride and a thirst for battle. His thick frame carved by years of battle, fists clenched ready to go, and more bar fights under his belt than should ever be allowed (or legal for that matter).

The bell rang. It. Was. On. 

Story: Butting Heads

Part of the Stories series. Like shorts, these are generally done by request and have some personification of the requester in the story.  Unlike shorts, these are longer (6k+ words) and move descriptive and world building. 

The two had been friends for years, maybe even longer. They trained hard with each other, helped push the other before fierce, high risk fights. They bandaged each other when one fell. They lifted each other up. They were as close as brothers. Maybe even closer. So of course the day would come, when brother would fight brother in the ring. Being at the top of their game it was only a matter of time. Plus the money was good. 

But that unspoken rule would be there.

Before the fight there would be respect, after the fight they would reunite as brothers. During? Today? Now? The world would watch them fight it out, draw blood and make it flow like waterfalls, and destroy each other for honor, to see who was really the top dog. They where still men after all. It would be a long ruthless match, bloody, never giving up, driven. It was the kind of fight guys with a lot of testosterone really loved.

And so the day came.