What Do You Fear

People who know me will think that I am just crazy enough to seem fearless. Some people have even given me the nickname of “cyborg” because of work ethic and being calm under pressure when things count. I don’t fear things like killers or werewolves or fights. If I go down that way then I hope it is for a good reason. The world does not inspire the deep life long fear that these two things, and both stem from my past which can seem strange in just a moment though it will be explained.

First comes with a touch of backstory. A long time ago when I was still in school someone very dear to me died in a horrifying manner with me unable to help in time all i could do was hear it. Despite all of my efforts trying to change that event those who knew me before and after would describe the later one as heartless. Their were things I did that edged on the sides of brutality. What was in my way would soon be out of it with the least amount of mercy given. No quarter given for a while and some of my proudest moments came because of that no mercy style. That person that I used to be could get what I want done in a faster time, but that person had no hope for humanity he looked at them as a tool that could then be tossed at the end.

After that is the fear that I will not become who I know I can be. I need to do more, push harder, and learn faster because styaing in one place is stagnation. Stagnation is a death knell to a set of skills because if even a portion does not evolve then it will rot. The world can be so much better, and to do it in her memory I will need to put the faith in the good in humanity. Sometimes I need to convince myself somedays because that person meant so much to me that in her memory her dream will be completed through my own dream.

I wasn’t the best person to pick up her dream but in reverence when I am done the world will be a better place. To do that I will need capital so my plan of being a businessman could still yield the connections built over time. I fear going back because I need to be constantly improving in something. The odds are high that the changes may not be so big, that my business will fall, but for her it needs to at least try.

Those are the things which I guess boils down to I will not be able to grow any further and not complete any good change. The other is I get the resources needed, but it turns me in to someone without the moral compass I have now. Those are my fears, what are yours.

Excerpt – “The price of a mistake”

I sat at my kitchen table, the mixed perspiration of waking from a cold sweat with tear trails down my cheeks making everything react to the cold night air in the kitchen more then normal. The counter was warm as my hands didn’t move from their marble resting place cradling a glass of dark amber whiskey. My heart was pumping fast as the dream haunted over me like a cloud of evil.

It started first in the familiar shape of the octagon. Roars from the crowd were loud despite being hidden from view. All of the light as well as the focus was in the ring. My corner was making sure my wraps was tight and our plan was set. This was where I first woke up with little problem and every night since then. After the first few days we had determined that I should hit and run as the opponent was a heavy hitter with the ability to take punishment. I had done this time after time, being the champ one had to fight on all comers. Seven days passed before things had begun to get weird.

First it was the music he came out to a song I had never heard with no lyrics mimicking more of classical music then anything. Normally fighters would pick music that would give them energy, but this was different. The tone was slow without draining energy from the audience. Violins played against piano and drums that would mimic a beating heart before the strings screech marked a supposed flat line. Every time I got to his music I could feel something saying how I should remember it. Vaguely familiar I applied myself in the days to see if anyone made an entrance to such music. From my agents to the fight bookers to my friends who recorded no one had heard about the haunting melody stopped by the sudden flatline. It was then my guess to figure what kind of person would use such a track. Intelligent yet comfortable within the confines of the cage.

Someone who preferred their normal nature then one aided by adrenaline. Overall it painted someone strong enough in their craft despite everything that began to creep me out. I was beginning to feel excited about my dreams wondering what little tidbit would appear next. People started noticing it too as I begun to train harder in efforts to properly tire myself out. Sick as my mind had been I was getting better shape after every night.

Finally tonight came despite training so hard I was feeling like a kid at Christmas. Closing my eyes my heart begun to race like my first fight only for the music to hit like a bucket of cold water. The first sounds of the keys and strings working through the melody did not slow the crowd. Someone from my corner saw him before I could to immediately get in my line of sight. Disgruntled I couldn’t arc my head to see as hands rested on the sides of my face while my cornerman spoke.

“Listen, this may be something we need to walk away from.”

I shook my head at such a notion. Whoever this was clearly was skilled in their craft. The look in his eyes as I replied filled me with something I didn’t know I felt for a while.

Fear.

The music had made me so eager that I didn’t notice the fighter enter the cage. My cornerman was looking down on me with what I would call a look of mournful pity. Watching my guy leave the cage I soon turned my head forward. A moment later I was kicking my sheets while my apartment filled with screams of terror. No champ could face the opponent and win. It was impossible.