(Photo Credit: Yarnspinner)

With a head feeling like a ton of bricks and every bone in the body creaking like doors in the Addam’s Family Mansion, Antonio made a feeble & futile effort to bring himself onto his knees. The beating had been severe, savage and spontaneous. Blows rained down upon him as fists made contact with jaws, knees kneaded into abdomen and boots cracked open hapless ribs. Even a state of extreme inebriation did not help in dulling the sense of excruciating pain. But what hurt the most was the malignant abuse that accompanied the bashing:

“Get lost you bastard”; “The doors to the performing arts are closed to you forever filthy drunkard!”;

He knew he was filth; he knew he was abusing his liver in a manner which would make even George Best seem juvenile.

He also knew that there would be “No Entry” to the very temple of fine arts which he himself had founded.

(WORD COUNT: 152)

This story was written as part of the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (“FFfAW”) Challenge #179, more about which may be read HERE

Photo Credit: Yarnspinner

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