26 parts of a Speculative Fiction story by J Lenni Dorner
The light shimmers along the blue shell of the six-legged Miwinhaiz. To me, this opponent looks like an upright pistol lobster. Probably forty pounds. Wouldn’t fit into one of my traps. Undoubtedly, this fighter has no idea that my first after school job was as a lobsterman. And now, here I am, starving, and facing an opponent who looks like something I’d boil alive and dip in butter.
“Hi,” I say as we circle each other. I don’t know the rules here. Will a bell ding? Is there going to be a referee telling us to shake hands or something? My first fight was so confusing that I didn’t even know I was in one. But this time, I’m fully aware.
Miwinhaiz lunges toward me, gashing my left leg.
“Oh, that’s how it is?” I stomp on my opponent’s back. It’s awkward fighting someone only knee high.
It takes awhile, but Miwinhaiz gets out from under my foot. Then slashes at my left leg again, nailing the same spot. Blood spurts out of my calf.
“You know what? I’m done being polite.” I grab Miwinhaiz from behind and snap off a leg. Then another.
A terrible screech fills the air. I hear the audience reacting to my making Miwinhaiz cry out, but I don’t care. I’m hungry. I’m going to win. Miwinhaiz, in my mind, becomes nothing more than a lobster. Rare, thanks to the blue shell, but never less, this is food, and I’m no vegetarian. Once all six legs are laying in the ring, twitching uselessly, I bend my opponent backward. Bits of shell breaks off.
“Winner! Attie of Earth!”
I’m escorted back to my quarters. Behind me, the crowd sounds mostly like it’s cheering.
“Guess who isn’t dead,” I call out when Jenesis comes into view. She claps.
Someone else claps, but it’s slower and harder. “Well done. I knew you wanted to fight.”
Brydanz steps out of a dark shadow. My knuckles crack as my fists tighten. “You abducted me!”
He shrugs. “You came willingly. Not the point. You are here, and you have killed. Meet Miwinhaiz’s last trophy.”
A young man steps out. This so-called trophy looks mostly human. A college frat boy who got a bad haircut as part of his initiation. Scars obscure his facial features. He kneels before me.
“I don’t need a second trophy. I need food, water, and a way home.”
Brydanz waves his hand. “So be it.”
A blue creature touches me as it passes. It looks like a floor lamp with a fencing sword. Without a word, it rolls over to the young man and slashes his throat.
“No!” I scream the word over and over as the body is dragged out.
Did you know that a pistol lobster is the nickname for a lobster without claws?
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