[Split]

Originally Posted by Certain

It's raining at Church of the Redeemer's cemetery.

"To Jessica, my beautiful baby daughter ..."

She's twisting her ankle nervously, heel digging deep in the mud. The lack of sleep has her bugged. Trying to be at peace. Wistful but acting earnestly, she listens to the sermon. Steps in closer to her boyfriend, Todd. But Todd's emotions are avoided, lost in those sexy eyes, deep-set, like depths of oceans. Her mascara's dripping. She's crying, sure. But mostly she forgot a hat. The timing's poor. She has a job interview tomorrow. Going to get a line of work that maybe he would've been proud of. Youngest child, sure. But she thinks of his smile. Thinks of his storytelling style and if he were the one delivering this eulogy that finds her bored.

"To Timothy, my dutiful only son ..."

He's straightening his tie again, messing with the alignment pin. Trying to keeps his eyes off the sight of him. Spitting image now within spitting distance of his future. Sure enough, men in this family always died in bed. Dignified, they said. More like, sad and lonely and alone all to keep a sense of pride, he guessed. He's seeing his own demise ahead. Gripping a that tie. Dad had given him it for graduation. High school. He'd taken pride in him. Taught him the Windsor knot. All of the fancier ones were quickly forgot. Tim figured one was enough, never had his dad's distinct panache. But he did take his instincts for people, enough to know most of those here were thin in their grief.

"To Sandra, my first-born and brightest ..."

She's counting the heads. Doesn't really remember anyone's name but wants out of this mess. She's remembering how she had fled, moved to California not because of her dad but because of the mounting of stress. Everyone here. She remembered the faces more than the names. Chorus of lames, boringly rambling through a service ordained as necessary by a religion she never had given into believing. Don't get her wrong, though, as she watched mud fling over the casket, she remembered the time dad had built up her tree house right over the hammock. And she'd slipped off and got her wrist caught in the rope. And the cast went on right before softball season. So that whole winter, once she was healthy, Dad took off on weekends and soft-tossed her balls so she could make the middle school team rather than giving up. But she ended up getting cut by her sophomore year.

"And to Dolores, my wonderful wife of 28 years ..."

She's here alone. Everyone's here, yes. But she's here alone. Supposedly grieving. She sees three people she half-recognizes and a bunch of acquaintances. And the casket's been lowered so there's nothing to say to him. She's here alone. She's supposed to be crying. Broken for four days, clutching a rosary tight. She pulls closer to Jessica, Timothy, Sandra and listens as the pastor delivers with somber tones each ribbon and honor. And that's when she knows she'll go on living without him.

Certain. Initial impressions were that your descriptions seemed overdone. Also I didnt like the rhythm the paragraphs developed, it felt very weirdly emphasized, but maybe its because i havent read topicals in ahwile. Overall it was pretty good, but it feels more like a brief writing exercise rather than something that moves. good quality writing but could use a little more power.

Originally Posted by oats

Portrait of a Warrior (Ode to BJ Penn)


at 35, the walk-in felt the same as a decade ago
lights dimmed, the crowd hushed, faces blurred to faded glow
his pace was slow. as he looked ahead the cage unfolded
music started, nerves departed, the sheer excitement raced him forward

50 yards and an Octagon was all that’s left of his career
a 25 minute Swan Song before he disappeared
that twitch of fear that it was near - a bland and boring brand torment
on the eve of his retirement, highlights of his past swam before him...

his first chance of glory - Jens Pulver for the lightweight champion’s belt
dominated rounds 1 and 2, felt him tap from the armbar after the bell
but alas he was felled in a controversial decision
that in hindsight would only serve to spurn his ambition

his second crack at the title, redemption beckoned
Caol Uno - a man he once knocked out in 11 seconds
the rematch went the distance, most gave him a 1-2 round advantage
called a Draw - then the lightweight division was suspiciously disbanded

crowned the unofficial champ of the lightweight division
to beat the best in the world became his life, his mission
the once-beaten Takanori Gomi was all everybody spoke about -
he bloodied him for 2 and a half rounds before he choked him out

a return to the UFC was becoming past due
so he stepped up to the wrecking ball known as Matt Hughes
Hughes was on a 13-fight win streak, hadn’t lost in 3 years
not only a weight class above, Matt was part of that elite tier
a reach for The Prodigy, people expected he’d get worked down
instead he dropped him with a straight and submitted him in the first round
he fought from lightweight to heavyweight, a legendary mystique made fast
1 of only two men to win titles in more than one weight class


his past was all behind him now, the heat of the lights
beamed down on the man across him who defeated him twice
this was his comeback and his send-off, a shot at redemption
the opportunity to add a final notch to his legend

opening bell, he pushes forward, pawing his jab tough
Frankie circled out of range, his reach caused him to back up
but it was only a matter of time until he figured out his rhythm
and he began to pepper Penn with combos in laser precision

it only went downhill from there for the beloved Pacific pugilist
body-body-head-TRIP, crashed to the mat in ruthlessness
doom eclipsed, Penn was in slow-motion compared to his foe
Frankie postured up in his guard, preparing to throw

it was a torrential downpour, storms of elbows and fists
Penn could only writhe beneath the rain that belted him quick
yet he dwelled in the thick of it, weathered the mauling
until the next thing he knew the ref was yelling to stop it
time melted and paused, Frankie gave him a wild embrace
BJ wore a gash on his eye, a swollen nose…and a smile on his face
his style had aged, no longer was he the Prodigy from years gone by
he was slower, weaker, tired - but still possessing fearless pride

washed away by the storm of younger talent - an unforgiving dance
“I shouldn’t have been in the ring tonight” he said…
but he was glad he took the chance

Oats good story but the ending felt forced. Really cool connection to topic. Lots of fractal language use/ metaphors that kinda worked upward towards the theme, like wild embrace, torrential downpour, etc.



cool battle, i gotta give it to Oats. enjoyed it from the very first read through, everything meshed well and the progression was crystal clear