The Eyes Of A Spectator

A Story

As he laid there depicting what had happened on the first day of the ceremony, others were roaring in anticipation. He had brought shame upon his own, and failed. One after another, the others walked out the door, and the room started slowly emptying. It was not a matter of how strong or fast your body was, it is of how you can act upon times of trouble When you were on the verge of death.
None of us were allowed to see what was happening outside of the prison, but we laid there, hearing all of the gruesome sounds of death and pain. If we were to pass this, the other tests would prove considerably worse and even to a point of mental breakdowns. In this sick society, this is what deems you worthy, this is what turns you into who you are, this determines your fate as either dead, or a warrior worth your country.
It is a shame to see all of the people die as the way they do. 16 is not an age where people should fight to the death. The mind and the body are still growing, and to experience death at that age is something that would not be allowed. Another moan and a holler, as the prison gate opens. This time another classmate of mine exists, staring at me with those drugged out eyes of his.
“Don’t you dare die on me Mason!”
Samson is not the type to go out and fight someone, but after all of those chemicals starting hitting your brain, there’s not much to be done. I wish I were chosen as a Knerr, instead of an Arrk. I was always the more intellectual type. More of a thinker, a leader.
I’m not sure why the precious fight had ended so soon, but now I was up. And I was forced up by another and shoved outside the prison. I looked out and the sun was shining all too bright. I had chosen to wear all too little armor for speed. If I had chosen more armor, I could have blinded him. I took out my baton that my father had given me, wishing me my luck. Good thing this wasn’t a ballistics battle, we don’t own a gun, and I would have to have fought with a baton instead.
My opponent came out with Adreno injected into his system, you could tell. Mead came charging at me with his sledgehammer and swung it at me as heard as he could. I jumped out of the way and he missed. His hammer got buried in the sand and he stumbled as he tried to prod it out. I took my baton and swung and hit him. He flinched but his armor was too thick. This was a very bad situation to be in.
“Hahaha! You’re dead! There’s no way you can hurt me with that thing!”
He took his hammer, pulled it out and swung it sideways. It nearly hit me and I dropped to the floor onto my stomach. He swung too hard and the momentum of the sledgehammer made him fly 2 feet sideways. I got up and tried to prod the armor off of his body. He tried to shove me off, but I took my baton and started choking him. He started laughing.
“Oh yeah, choke me with that baton, that’ll do you good.”
He jerked his head and my baton snapped in half. He picked me up while I was in shock and threw me against the wall of scrap metal.
“Mason, I knew you couldn’t beat me. You were never a Knerr. You never could have been, and now, I’m taking that “gift” of yours away, for good.”
He took his sledgehammer, rose it, and swung.