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I'm going to sign up for this one!
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Sep 10, 2012 23:58
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| # ¿ Apr 27, 2024 00:40 |
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Rouge Vif Enters the Ring 939 words It was two in the morning, and Slobodan shivered in the cold as he approached the abandoned grocery store. Most of the lights on the sign had burnt out, leaving only a flickering “OC” in the original “GROCERY”. He stopped in front of the sliding doors as a burly man pushed them open a crack. “You here for the fight?” he asked. Slobodan indicated the dog carrier he had with him and the bouncer slid the doors open. The interior still possessed traces of what it used to be–cheery signs marking the cashiers and the aisles–but the shelves were bare and the air smelled of a mixture of rotting produce and cigarette smoke. Slobodan walked to the butcher counter in the back, where two dozen disreputable gamblers, shouted into a ring of chained-together shopping carts, electric lanterns shining dim light on their faces. Standing on his toes, Stefan was able to see inside the ring. Several wooden blocks covered with nails had been glued to the floor, but what really drew the eye was the pumpkin and watermelon fighting to the death. As far as Slobodan could tell, the pumpkin was winning: Its dense rind had barely received a scratch, while the watermelon bled from several punctures. The watermelon attempted to roll away, but the pumpkin was too fast, slamming it into one of the nail blocks and cracking it open. Rotting watermelon flesh spilled across the floor as the losing gamblers disgustedly handed wrinkled cash to their companions. Victorious, the pumpkin spun around, revealing the streak of dark blood across its side. A bald, tough-looking man grinned at the results. “Marko, your squash is next! I hope you taught it to pray!” Men wearing long rubber gloves threw the remains of the melon into a pot full of boiling water and started cleaning up the arena. Slobodan pushed aside several crowd members and tapped the man on the shoulder. “What do you want?” he said as he turned around. “Are you the man in charge of these fights?” Slobodan asked. “I am,” the man replied, visibly annoyed at the question. “My name is Vladimir. All vampire fights in this part of the country go through me.” Looking at Slobodan’s pet carrier, he added, “All the fights tonight are set. Come back later if you want to enter.” “I don’t want to enter,” Slobodan replied. “I have a top-quality Rouge Vif I’m bringing to a tournament in Pazardzhik, but I’m running low on…ah…gas money.” “So what do you want?” Slobodan held up a coin envelope. “I’m selling its seeds. A dozen for a hundred thousand dinars.” Vladimir roared with laughter. “You come into my arena and offer to sell me seeds for a hundred thousand? You must have some balls.” “Look, if you don’t want them–“ “One second,” Vladimir interrupted, flashing a lion’s grin. “If you’re so confident in your vampire, throw it in the ring with my kabocha. I imported it from Japan and it’s won…thirty, forty of its fights. If you can win, I’ll buy your seeds.” Slobodan took a deep breath. He was fairly confident, but should he lose…he shook his head a little. It was too late to go back. “I’ll take you up on that,” he said, and gingerly set the pet carrier on the ground in front of a hole in the carts. Noticing a new opponent, the kabocha circled around the entrance, growling low. Slobodan kicked the carrier and a loud scream rang out, causing several of the weaker-willed audience members to take a step back. Vladimir raised his eyebrows with interest. Slobodan took hold of the grate at the front of the carrier and raised it as quickly as he could. Faster than the eye could see, something smashed into the kabocha in a blur of crimson. The green pumpkin was knocked into the carts at the far end as the challenger slowed down enough to be seen: It was a flat, bright red pumpkin covered with scars and dripping blood. The kabocha attempted to regain its bearings but its opponent was too fast, slamming it against the carts again. The Rouge Vif relentlessly continued its assault, stretching the chains that held the two in the ring. Finally, the kabocha started to break, spitting its guts out of the ring and onto Slobodan’s shoes. “That’s enough!” Vladimir shouted, and one of his subordinates reached in through the carts to try to retrieve his pumpkin. The Rouge Vif, undeterred, smashed into the man’s fingers as it collided with the kabocha again. There was a sickening crack and the man screamed in pain as he withdrew his broken hand. As some of the others stared at what the Rouge Vif had done, another crack sounded as seeds, rind, and pumpkin innards spewed through the carts and dripped onto the floor. Victorious, the Rouge Vif spun back into its pet carrier and Slobodan closed the hatch. A long moment passed as Slobodan and Vladimir stared at each other, silently daring the other to make the first move. Finally, Vladimir took a pile of bills, neatly held together by a clip, out of his pocket. “Give me the seeds.” Slobodan handed him the coin envelope and gingerly took the money. Vladimir opened the envelope and, satisfied with the shiny white seeds inside, pocketed it. Counting his cash, Slobodan strolled towards the exit, and as the sounds of vampires fighting sounded through the store once again, he stepped through the doors and into the freezing night. (This story is based on the Balkan/Romani myth of vampire pumpkins and watermelons.)
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Sep 13, 2012 02:20
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Y Kant Ozma Post posted:I won't go morbid, then. I probably should have. This is really heartwarming in a weird way and I love it.
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Sep 15, 2012 06:17
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