The Fight

A single short story (so only one chapter).
A young boy faces his most deadly adversary. One that threatens everyone he knows.
(Note: Not sure which category it belongs in.)


1. The Fight

The boy faced up to the monster, a steel sword in one hand and a wooden shield in the other.

‘Leave us alone!’ he shouted.

The monster turned to face him, its shadow enveloping the ground around it.

The beast growled, its bloated, purple body wobbling as it did. Saliva dripped from its foul fangs, and it moved towards the boy.

‘Leave me and my village alone!’ he cried, stepping forwards the meet the monster.

Again the beast growled, swiping a claw, which the boy deflected; but only just.

Already the boy was panting, but he refused to give in. The village was just down the hill, hiding as the beast came closer.

He deflected another attack from the monster, and then lunged forward, cutting a deep gash along the beast’s chest.

Black blood that smelt of sulphur poured out, and the boy fell back, coughing.

The beast roared, raising its arms in the air, which caused more blood to stream out, and the boy almost vomited.

He tore off one of his sleeves and wrapped it around his face, leaving his eyes uncovered.

It blocked the smell enough to allow him to regain his composure, just as the beast attacked.

The boy rolled away, dropping his sword and shield in the process.

As the beast’s massive fists came down, one landed on the sword, which embedded itself between two knuckles.

The monster recoiled in pain, howling in shock.

The boy took that advantage, and drew a small knife, which he used to climb up the beast’s back, avoiding contact with the blood as much as possible.

The sword loosened from the wound, and the beast pulled it out with its mouth.

The boy appeared on its head, and removed the sword from beneath its teeth, and then plunged it deep into the monster’s skull.

The beast howled wildly, and then fell forward, throwing the boy off.

It took a few seconds, but the boy managed to recover and stand up.

Cheers sounded from nearby as the villagers approached him.

The boy just stood atop the beast, the black blood spreading on its corpse.

He had won.

He let out a triumphant cry, his sword held high.

Then he heard a shout from the crowd.

‘Timmy, wake up!’


The boy woke in a hospital bed, a drip in one arm. Sitting by his bed were his mother and father, who smiled at him.

‘Timmy,’ said him mother. ‘The operation was successful. They got the cancer out.’

‘You’re a real fighter, my boy,’ said his father. ‘I always knew you were.’

Timmy smiled back.

He had fought.

He had won.

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