Descriptive writing.

Reece Darwin10PK

English, Descriptive writing

Twenty inches of neck attached to a freakishly large body, the likes of which are not usually seen outside the covers of Neanderthal-Weekly, with tree trunk legs and splaying arms carrying invisible buckets filled to the brim with water walked into the dark pulsating night club. With a permanent frown on his armour plated forehead he paid for his entry slamming the money down sending shock waves through the counter. He thudded towards the bar making the floor vibrate with every step he took, barging every one to one side that stood between him and the bar making a path through the sea of people. He was a walking truck who in his spare time liked to play professional Rugby and eat babies. Instinct told me that he would be fighting by the end of the night. I asked a few questions to my fellow colleagues and friends about who this gigantic fighting machine was, in return I got answers like “don’t do it Reg”, “he’s a legend on the pitch and in the ring”, “he’s the man that can’t be knocked out!” This just made me want him even more.

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He stood at the bar like he had paid rent. He had a few of his mates around him that were also massive and equally ugly but he made them look like skinny little excuses for men. There wasn’t another group of lads in a five-mile radius through fear of this absurdly sized man and his ape like behaviour. He had already put a lad on the floor for getting served before him, the complaints started flooding in from customers and the bar staff. A few doormen had tried to sort the situation out but Meathead had just laughed in their face. Unsure of what to do, one of the younger doormen approached myself and my close friend and work mate John. Underneath his black jacket John was a completely different man to what you saw. He was hugely muscular with rippling biceps and a back which was layers deep. Added to the fact that John could punch like a pro boxer, he had an iron will, and had graduated from the University of Street fighting with flying colours.

Approaching the big ape like figure John raised his head with what appeared to be a sense of uncertainty ‘So what’s the problem then?’ John’s voice was deep, emotionless and to the point, the music stopped momentarily, I could feel my heart beating against my chest harder and harder as if it was trying to get out. A tiny drop of sweat ran down the side of my face. I drew back on my cigarette to try to hide my adrenaline that had already started pumping around my body feeding every limb. My body felt as if it was ready to burst and every one of my muscles were tensed like iron. I flicked my cigarette at this Meathead’s feet in a challenge. As John stood straight in front of him he realised the sheer size of the man. He towered above the both of us and his pathetic sidekicks stood in his shadow behind him. John told him he had to go, meat head just laughed like it was some sort of a joke and spat on Johns shoes, it was no joke!… BANG! It was a short left hook that travelled so fast it almost landed before it was thrown. It was so quick that a lot of people didn’t see it, and because I was standing so close many of the punters thought it was me that threw the punch and I said nothing to convince them otherwise. The punch probably only travelled a few inches but it was as violent as a snakebite. He hit the floor. Meathead smashed into the beer-sticky blood stained carpet, and his nose erupted like a volcano to form a pool of blood under our feet. His spineless sidekicks just turned and vanished like little kids that had lost their mum. The whole club fell silent as every one stared at John in awe and then glanced towards ‘the man that couldn’t be knocked out’ and incredibly as one they broke out into spontaneous applause.

Word count 715

Reece Darwin 10PK