Fight To The Death
By: Matthew Donnellon
Tags: Death, Short Story, Sports, Fiction, Life

He woke up to silence.

The last thing he remembered was the crowd cheering.

He was in the octagon. It was a title fight. His first big money maker. It was where his career was finally going to take off.

The last thing he remembered was a flash of a fist and then darkness.

He sat up, letting his eyes get used to the lack of light.

He was still in the ring, but the crowd was gone.

Everything was gone, really. The bright lights, the trainers, the television crews, everything.

The ring just sat in a dark void. The only light coming from a dim light bulb suspended over the ring.

He rubbed his temple. His head was killing him. It must have been a bad concussion; he had to be hallucinating.

Any minute now, he thought. Any second, his trainer would shake him and he’d be back. There was no way the fight would still be going. As soon as the ref saw him go out he would have stopped it.

But at least things would start getting back to normal.

Until he heard a strange noise.

It was a low rumble, like thunder in the distance.

Then he realized it wasn’t a random noise. Someone, or some thing, was humming.

Then the voice started singing in a low, gravelly voice.

He sung, and sung.

He realized it was Jonny Cash’s “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” the song he walked out to before the fight.

He heard the chorus again and finally after looking around, he saw a black cloaked figure sitting on a stool in the corner.

“You were out a long time,” the being said, “Longer than most.”

“Where am I?”

“Where do you think you are?”

The presence of the hooded figure did not give him hope. “Did I die?”

“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling the figure’s voice had. He wasn’t hearing him so much as the man’s voice resonated in his bones.

“So you’re Death?”

“I am.”

“How did I die?”

“You had a small blood clot in your brain. The fight doctors missed it. That last punch broke it loose. They tried to save you but the brain bleed couldn’t be stopped.”

“So now I’m gone?”

“Yes you are, and now the real Reaper is here for you.”

He realized what Death meant. He looked down at the word ‘Reaper’ tattooed on his chest. It was the nickname given to him after his first fight.

“Are you mad?”

“I am too old to get mad. But I came personally for another reason, usually I have an associate bring people to the afterlife.”

“What did I do?”

“You fought.”

“I know and now I’d dead.”

“That’s not what I meant. They’ve been trying to revive you for nearly an hour. You wouldn’t let go. By all account you should have been dead in minutes. You held on by sheer willpower.”

“Not enough to save myself though.”

“Impressive enough to rouse Death himself to meet you personally.”

“I’m honored.”

“I can sense the sarcasm. But despite that I’m going to propose something.”

Death stood up and pulled his long black sleeves to the elbow revealing thing white hands and slender, toned arms.

Death started wrapping tape around his hands, “I’ll give you one chance to go back to the living realm. One round. No judges. I go down you get your life back. You lose and you come with me.”

“What if you tap?”

“Death never taps.”

The hooded figure clapped his hands together, and threw a few practice jabs. His robe slowly morphed into more appropriate clothing. The robe turned into hooded sleeveless sweatshirt, with black pants and shoes.

“I accept.”

“Good.”

They touched gloves and it was on.

Death was fast. The hooded figure jabbed, which he slipped and immediately went for the take down, tackling Death to the ground. He mounted the immortal being. For a moment he was sure he’d won. He’d ground and pound Death until he got his life back.

But Death was too strong. Death grabbed his wrists and rolled. They both scrambled to their feel.

He went in fast, ducking under Death’s punch and hitting him with a body blow, doubling Death over. Death took a couple steps back, coughing, but when he attacked again Death hit him with a front kick square in the chest that sent him flying across the ring. The fence rattled when he hit it.

As he got to his feet Death cracked his neck, “Is that all you got?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

He couldn’t see but he could swear the hooded figure was smiling.

“Time to figure out who the real Reaper is.”