The other teenagers jostled and cried like seagulls circling a fishing trawler. At their centre, we stood: he like a king, and I, his lowly serf. He pushed me; I stepped back, my sports bag slipping to the ground. He stepped forward: eyes blazing, chest pumped, his fists white. I bent to reclaim my bag just as he thrust with his “legendary” headbutt. His nose bursting on impact with my tilted head, felled him to his knees. His hands stained in defeat, and my accession cruelly proclaimed: I left the field of battle to concede to a higher court and the school’s Head.
The Head
by 
Teuchter
|
Posted: 26 July 2017 Word Count: 106 Summary: A very short piece (of which there have been many, and mostly unfinished over the years). This one is based on a true incident and one that 'smouldered' throughout my latter school life... and still to this day in some ways. |
The Head
The other teenagers jostled and cried like seagulls circling a fishing trawler. At their centre, we stood: he like a king, and I, his lowly serf. He pushed me; I stepped back, my sports bag slipping to the ground. He stepped forward: eyes blazing, chest pumped, his fists white. I bent to reclaim my bag just as he thrust with his “legendary” headbutt. His nose bursting on impact with my tilted head, felled him to his knees. His hands stained in defeat, and my accession cruelly proclaimed: I left the field of battle to concede to a higher court and the school’s Head.
The other teenagers jostled and cried like seagulls circling a fishing trawler. At their centre, we stood: he like a king, and I, his lowly serf. He pushed me; I stepped back, my sports bag slipping to the ground. He stepped forward: eyes blazing, chest pumped, his fists white. I bent to reclaim my bag just as he thrust with his “legendary” headbutt. His nose bursting on impact with my tilted head, felled him to his knees. His hands stained in defeat, and my accession cruelly proclaimed: I left the field of battle to concede to a higher court and the school’s Head.