The Boxer

by HopeForTheFew

Chapter 3: Walking The Mile

The man stepped out of the woods, back onto the road. It had been quite some time, how long for sure, the man did not know. But that was not the least bit of his worries. He needed to understand, he needed to know what was going on. Where he was, what those armor clad beings were.

He needed to learn... And so he set off to understand. He was determined to reach some kind of civilization. Though, he moved slow on his way down the road. The armored creatures had left quite some time ago but he had to be on his guard, he could never know what might happen.

And so he moved at a crawl, his heart racing so fast that it was threatening to burst out of his chest. But after some time walking down the road, he would begin to relax and calm his nerves. He then began to take a rather ginger walk down the road, though, still on his guard, he couldn't really afford to panic. If these things were truly out to kill him then he would have to be prepared for anything. He would do, what he would have to do for his own life.

The man, while walking, slid his backpack off his shoulder and opened the bag. Inside were the apples that he had picked from the tree a while back. He took out one of the apples and took a rather large bite out of it. The man stopped his walking and he looked up towards the sky. His eyes were closed as he began to chew, the juice making his taste buds fly. It felt like an age since he last had some liquid in his system. But now that it was here, he relaxed to his fullest and swallowed the pat of the apple that was in his mouth.

He turned his head away from the sky and looked again in his pack. He saw his water bottle within it and he took it out, unscrewing the top and gulping down quite a bit of the liquid. Once he was finished he put everything away and continued his walk. The man was tired and his eyes were heavy. He knew that if he didn't find anything in the next hour or two he would have to hit the sack and try to get some shut eye.

But all of that would be determined later, for he still had quite a bit of walking ahead of him.

---

I walked and walked but no end was in sight for the road. just the same old trees and wildlife that have been with me ever since I got here. It was as if I was walking in circles, never coming to an end. Truth be told though, I never really get tired of the wild. Its magnificent beauty and wonders are still music to my soul and I know I could never hate it.

But I wonder... Could my heart ever get that hard? Could I ever truly hate the wilderness. Of course I knew the answer was no, but the question still lingered on in my head. Like a loud voice in an empty hall, it echoed through my mind.

Could I ever? Could I ever get that hard...

but I suppose I never will. I know my love for nature is to strong to be brought down or destroyed.

But that raised another question. What kind of wilderness was I in? Where was I?

A tear dropped from my eye then, for my heart was sad. I was sad. Being ripped from the place you belong is not a good feeling when you let it sink in. Despair can easily take you over unless you be watchful. But I knew what would happen if I let despair take me over. And I wasn't about to let that happen again.

I stopped walking and just stood there. I blinked the tears away and shook my head. I looked back up the road, the tears now gone. But they were replaced now by a burning hate for the place I was in. I lost control of myself then and let the rage take me over. I looked up and screamed at the sky. I through my backpack on the ground and fell to my knees, I clutched my hands into a fist, my fingernails nearly piercing my skin.

I never really knew what took me over at times like these. Was it an emotion? Was it my bodies function when it was under stress? I never knew what it really was. All I knew was that it was a burning hate inside that could only get released when times like these came along.

Lord knows I may never truly know. maybe some day I could get the answers, but as of right now, I am just stuck with guessing.

I have had these attacks before. But it all started back with my dad... Back when he would train me...

---

The gray haired man lifted the boy off the ground and began to shout hatefully at him.

"Hit that bag again! You wont stop until I tell you to! Let those hands bleed! He would shout over and over again. And indeed those hands did bleed. They bruised, broke, snapped, and bled but still he had to keep punching, or else...

The boys tears would stain the carpet beneath him along with the blood and sweat. But the boys father knew what he was doing, He was one of the greatest boxers to date after all. He knew how to fight and he intended to show his knowledge to his son.

The boy knew his father loved him and he loved his father. And it was not the training that left the boy so alone and angry.

The date was 1986, it was July in the small town of Whiteford, Rhode Island and a rather large storm was going on outside. The boy and his father were inside having dinner together. It was just them since the boys mother and sister were out of town. The boys father was divorced to his mother, but they all lived in the same town. Even though there was a division in the family they were all still happy and came together as a family often.

Untill, that is..

his father died.

They were eating together, him and the boy when all of the sudden, the man started laughing. He was just laughing at a small joke that was told, when he began to cough and gag. His mouth was full of food and the man began to choke violently. The boy stood up quickly and tried his best to help his father, but it was all in vain.

The man fell out of his chair. He was no longer coughing or gagging, all he was doing was starring at the ground, food coming out of the corner of his mouth. He was dead...

The boy fell to his knees, tears flowing wildly from his eyes as he cried his heart out.

But he could do nothing.

He could do nothing...

---

The man still starred at the ground, remembering what had once happened to him and his family. He wished he could do something, anything to change the past. but he was stuck here, in a place unknown to him and quite frankly, frightening to him. He always feared the unknown, though that would never stop him from pressing on, he couldn't help but be scared of it.

But as the man was thinking about all that had happened to him, he failed to hear the faint hoof fall of a Pegasus as it landed from the sky. He failed to notice anything but his own reality he was stuck in.

And in that time span, the man failed to see the armored guards surround him.

He had walked the long and lonely mile, but it was time for him to rest.

His days of walking have come to an end. But his days of running...

Have only just begun...

Author's Note:

As I said before, the man wont get captured for quite some time, hell, he might never get captured. I haven't really planned this story out to its fullest. But do note that this man is not OP in any way, he is just a regular man on his own personal journey. But that wont stop him from fighting his way to get to the end of his journey if he has to.

There is a lot that will happen in the future for this story, and I Hope you all enjoy it.

Cheers!

Comments

[Godiswithus3]

I am finding this story interesting. There typos I noticed, but the premise is interesting. I am looking forward to more.

[Fucks Ungiven]

They way you tell the story is weird. It's like an omniscient narrative with first person weaved in. It kinda reminds me of an old story that gets passed down from generation to generation. It is kinda jarring to going from perspectives like that though. So I would suggest keeping omniscient.

Side note: I would suggest keeping dialogue to a minimum, and only have talking during crucial parts or if he encounters someone whose not hostile. It increases the effect of the theme that is the belligerence of people/ponies.