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First Fight - Ch 6 of 7

The first situation in life, where there is only one door way out. For this matter, a door way in.

My First Fight


I honestly cannot remember what happens next or what I was doing before this occasion. This event just stands out of its own from start to finish. I will never forget this moment in my life. It was tragic, and there was something beautiful that comes out of it. I'll be gentle, I promise.

Standing in the front of our gate of our home, I could see my little brother further away, sitting down peacefully on the mound of sand. And what the sand for, is for the house in front of him that is under construction. The house still has no roof, and the walls are still cement bricks that are drying. Few times, kids go inside here and play. My brother, only at five or six years old, and he builds a sandcastle.

Then little Richard shows up. For I know, only one year I am older. The school he goes is a mystery. He stands in front of my little brother who is minding his own business making his enchanted little castle.

Shit.   

What is he going to do? I already sense trouble at this point, and I began to panic.

I don’t know how to fight.

Should I call for mother, but it was already too late. Sand is flying into the air and all over at my little brother’s castle, and to his face. My brother squinted his eyes and blew his lips together to spit out the sands from his mouth. Without warning, I ran to him.

And uncle Ninoy from across the side of our house watches. Over a fence as he smokes his cigarette. Perhaps, to see the progress of the neighbor's house being built. Homes in the barrios keeps changing all the time.

“Hey! Stop that!” I yelled.

Then he turns to me, why am I here I thought.

My little brother spits some more sands out of his mouth and wipes his tongue with his shirt, “Yuck,” he said. Oh, I remember now.

Richard smiles with his hand holding the tip of his finger. Then my brother starts to cry. That cry only plays when I make them I thought. My eyebrows are in a frown. Richard face also changes to a frown, and he positions himself a stance that means business.

I am not going to lose this fight.

So I look around. Uncle Ninoy giggles, and he can’t believe Vincent is about to fight. I see him there, and he looks at me in a question of what am I going to do about it. The skinny kid, who watches Kung-Fu at my house is going to fight?

Are you asking me?

I look down to the plants on my right, where behind the fence is where uncle Ninoy is standing. And under the plants, I see a chip from a barrier wall that fits perfectly to my hand. Uncle Ninoy face changes as if he knows what I have in mind.

My face back to Richard and he also look at the sharp-edged projectile below the plant as well, but it’s further away from him. I was closer. Then slowly, I walk to my side, and Richard's belly starts to go back and forth faster, losing the confidence of his stance.

“What are you going to do Vincent,” he asks with a sense of regret, and he begins to get scared.

I pick up the heavy, sharp chip and then everything else went blank.

The last thing I remember is blood spreading slowly from the sand. Junior from out of nowhere, probably watching from the unfinished house, came to his little brother’s aid. I began to back away. My palms are sweaty, and my heart begins to beat even harder. He stands him up to his butt onto the sand, and blood squirts out of his little brother’s left eyebrow.

Then Junior turn his head to me with a shock, “Why did you do that!” he ask before wanting to destroy me.

Aware of it, I ran to my house. The scream of cries follows from behind, and it’s a mix of anger. I didn’t give time to close the gate as I ran. His screaming cries tells me it’s not enough time to close it. Then to the front door of the house. I tried to close it but his heavy kick pushed me to roll on to the floor, and it was enough momentum to get me up again. And to the kitchen. I kept running, and it seems forever, and I stopped in front of the fridge. The rains of hammer fists land behind my hands as a shield to the back of my head. The once that lands on my back spine was numb.

Silver spoons and silver forks fall to the plates, the steel chair’s legs made screeching sound against the floor.

“Stop!” my grandfather yell.

Crouch down to a protective position, I peek to my side. And my grandfather is pulling Junior away from me. Over the left shoulder of my grandfather, Junior cries out, “He threw something at my brother… He threw something at my brother…” his cries repeats as he gets further away.


To be continued…

 

 

 

 

 

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