That last one was a woman. Attempts at 'man talk' like 'karate chop'and the fact that it 'toppled' him over with little but a loss of breath! BUT it was the smell of the chocolate that gave her away. Also what man could write 'with equal fervour' when describing such a 'reunion' on the floor? No, definitely a woman...

I agree, the last one was a woman in my opinion. The chocolate and the karate chop but also, I think, the movement of her body below the straps of her dress...it seemed too sensuous to be male.

Then again..everyone thought I was a woman last time ;-)
regards

John

(Which I took as a compliment by the way...)

I think it must be a woman because of the following line:

Jack was momentarily paralysed but then his senses returned with a vengeance. "Larissa , what the hell are you doing..look put that knife down talk to me!"

Everyone knows men NEVER say 'talk to me'!...

<Added>

And John, were you trying to write as a woman to confuse us?

I think the last posting was a man because of the description in the opening sentence. The choclate thing could be a trap. The woman sounds snake like and sensual, the way men do view some women sometimes.
Glad to discover the second posting was you, John.

fooled Becca anyway..

Was the last one you then Ellie? If so you should be posting fiction on the site as well as poetry - I really enjoyed that...

LOL.. Nell thanks.!

Yup, you got me there Ellenna. Well done you.

Okeedoke - still plenty more scenes left if you're still interested in playing:

First came the wake, the passage of air forced angrily from the path of the strike, next came the fanfare of the collision, the sudden arrival of force against unready skin, followed by the compression of impact turning into sound, the sound of violence performed with deadly control. With almost imperceptible distinction in time, pain exploded at the epi-centre of the hit, stark, other senses numbing, as touch became momentarily all consuming in its awakening to life. The pain radiated like a white hot, mercurial fire, flooding through the dermis and down through the nerve endings. The dull pain of bone being impacted, of cartilage being rent from its home and of plasma running free from the confines of its tributaries evoked a cry from the victim. Realisation came instantaneously as to what had happened, Toby had been hit, he hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t appreciated the danger of the situation and hadn’t allowed for the possibility that he could be so unprepared! Even as he reacted to the hit, staggering back with his knees buckling, he tried to focus past the pain and the nausea, tried to reset himself for battle. Already in his heart he knew he had no chance, the elbow driven with deadly accuracy across his face into his nose had come before he had even perceived movement from his attacker. So quickly had the other fighter closed the four-foot distance between them and then begun the initial attack, that Toby knew with certainty he was bested and definitely in a lot of trouble! Fear began to broadcast from his loins, to pervade through his body, emotions ran like a kaleidoscope through his mind, as insecurities long forced under ground emanated into his heightened mind set. Memories of the beatings of a young boy, of crying in the dark, the taste of blood and bile and the sickness of no self-esteem crashed into his fore mind… ‘Why me, what did I do to deserve this?’ Toby thought as he began to react and to try to better the incentive to hurt. ‘ I shouldn’t be here!’… He began to try to fight on two levels, one driven by a need to survive, the other analytical in its appreciation of the other fighter. At no time did Toby recover or ever gain a foot hold in the fight, the other fighter was always a half a second ahead of his actions, always past the point of an attack, always already countering and hitting Toby again. Toby felt himself buckling from the deft collisions with his torso from a foot or hand that did not belong to him. The assailant was like a tulmet from a flooded river, unrelenting, unwavering and unstoppable! As Toby collapsed into the womb of unconsciousness, unconcerned if he would be revived from it or if he would fade into nothingness within the darkness, he remembered seeing other faces display the same slackened look. Nat’ watched as the bully slumped to the path, as the head woodenly lolled to once side and came to rest on the floor. It had taken her two seconds of augmented activity to dispatch the thug, not even close to a comparable opponent! Sitting by the road, the young boy rocked lightly in his hunched, foetal position, his arms hugging his knees, as he sat on his hunches watching Nat’ end his suffering at the hands of the local brigand. His wide shocked eyes begged the question, ‘am I next?’ “ Come on kid, let’s go and clean you up.” Natalie offered a hand of support…

This feels like a man writing. The use of exclamation marks could be revealing as to the author's identity, unless that's a deliberately false clue.

This is almost too male; it feels like pastiche to me, so I think one of the brilliant women on the site has perpetrated this piece. There's a rather detatched feel to the writing, which suggests the author is sitting quite far back from the action and considering phrases for their 'masculinity'........or, I'm completely wrong!!

Best,

Mike

I think this is a female writing..I can't really say why.. I think the last line. But I could be very very wrong...no real give aways as to being female at all..

Ellie..

This is a very hard piece to think about. It's uniquely written, very unlike male fight writing in it's distance from the physical scene. I think it's a man though. Because of the section where it's acknowledged that there's an instinct to fight back without dwelling on it. Good writing.

I've been trying to stay out of this but I've lost the battle. I agree with Mike. I think it's a woman writing like a man... Unless, of course, it's a man pretending to be a woman writing like a man... Yes, I think that's it. As a certain newspaper so wrongly said this week - 'It's a boy!'
Dee.

My vote is a woman. There is a certain gentleness that permeates even the harshest parts and which, despite attempts, fails to hide the female pen. She is 100% female! Er... Yes!

Len