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until death chapter 1
UNTIL ☠️💀 DEATH.
The First Chapter
The theme: meeting new friends.
The anchorperson called out my name once again. I surmised it was because he hadn't caught any glimpse of me amidst the new teenagers. With great contentment, I walked out of their underground tunnel. The sun shone brightly on my face and I inflated the cool fresh air. I can't remember the last time I was allowed to fight in the arena. At least it is better out here, on the battleground, fighting and running across the field for my survival than being latched in a fucked cell that smells so badly. I wonder if they even saturate it at all. "Isn't it Mr. F.I.S?" From among the crowds, I heard someone inquire. Don't be surprised by what I heard. He is standing close to the commentator's mic. So, his voice was broadcast throughout the entire amphitheater. The commentator announced again, "The betting time will be closed in 5 minutes. I want you all to start betting now. Mine goes for R.R." The commentator yelled, and the crowds went wide with their stupid cheers again. I could see the gape of bewilderment on some of the people's countenances, including Mr. Clarkson. And I could guess that they were newcomers who hadn't seen me in the arena before. Well, I couldn't blame them. I am an inexperienced black boy from Africa, Nigeria to be factual. I am a scrawny boy and tall. I was also not the fat boy species. I am sure you know what I mean. I am not fat or thin, just normal size, distinguished from the newbies that just arrived this morning. They are fat, well-built, and scoundrel. But, that doesn't concern me. "Who will place a bet on a malodorous skeleton boy?" Mr. Clarkson yelled, followed by the mocking voice of the stupid audience.
I yelled back, making sure that I let my voice go louder and higher enough for them to hear. "Your people are the skeleton." When I heard the crowds...
The First Chapter
The theme: meeting new friends.
The anchorperson called out my name once again. I surmised it was because he hadn't caught any glimpse of me amidst the new teenagers. With great contentment, I walked out of their underground tunnel. The sun shone brightly on my face and I inflated the cool fresh air. I can't remember the last time I was allowed to fight in the arena. At least it is better out here, on the battleground, fighting and running across the field for my survival than being latched in a fucked cell that smells so badly. I wonder if they even saturate it at all. "Isn't it Mr. F.I.S?" From among the crowds, I heard someone inquire. Don't be surprised by what I heard. He is standing close to the commentator's mic. So, his voice was broadcast throughout the entire amphitheater. The commentator announced again, "The betting time will be closed in 5 minutes. I want you all to start betting now. Mine goes for R.R." The commentator yelled, and the crowds went wide with their stupid cheers again. I could see the gape of bewilderment on some of the people's countenances, including Mr. Clarkson. And I could guess that they were newcomers who hadn't seen me in the arena before. Well, I couldn't blame them. I am an inexperienced black boy from Africa, Nigeria to be factual. I am a scrawny boy and tall. I was also not the fat boy species. I am sure you know what I mean. I am not fat or thin, just normal size, distinguished from the newbies that just arrived this morning. They are fat, well-built, and scoundrel. But, that doesn't concern me. "Who will place a bet on a malodorous skeleton boy?" Mr. Clarkson yelled, followed by the mocking voice of the stupid audience.
I yelled back, making sure that I let my voice go louder and higher enough for them to hear. "Your people are the skeleton." When I heard the crowds...
