Escape Velocity

First comes the searing shock of mind-numbing agony from flesh-to-flesh contact. Barely clothed bone against barely protected muscle. Anything impacted with enough force can go flying. Vaseline, hair, blood, sweat, fragments of skin, mouth piece, shoes. Everything is fair game.

E equals MC squared. Even if you didn’t learn this mathematical equation in school, I’m sure you’ve heard of it or seen it somewhere. Maybe a graphic tee with a crazy looking White man with equally crazy shocks of hair emanating from his head. Kinda reminds me of those cartoons where a character sticks his finger in an electrical socket and bolts of electricity course through his being terminating at Side Show Bob spikes of hair.

For me, E no longer stands for just kinetic Energy. M no longer stands solely for Mass. C no longer stands for Celerity constant. Squared is now beyond all these Raised To The Second.

E now also equals Elevation. M now also equals Motivation. C now also equals Commitment. Squared is now Cubed. The ante is upped for all.

Every action has an equal but opposite reaction. I’m living that now. Just like I’ve lived it almost every day for the past three years. Either I defy gravity or my opponent will.

The speed of light can be swift and quick. But often that is only for a moment. Reality warps and ripples the space-time continuum once you’re hit. “Lightening fast” and “traveling faster than the speed of light” take on a novel meaning. Facts like 186,000 miles per hour or 299,792 kilometers per second become myths.

Second comes the limelight or blackout. Here’s one thing that does remain a fact about the speed of light. Once those ceiling lights hit your retina, you know you have taken flight. You are at the mercy of how quickly your brain can reorient itself after self-sabotage against your skull. The real effect of radiant incandescent lights is the long-lasting bewilderment from heavily trying to blink away thousands of tiny after images.

Cartoons have it slightly wrong. When your brain is hit senseless, you don’t really see stars. Instead, you get flashy little orbs masquerading as angels. That cute halo of stellar essence dancing around your head that you shake off into fairy dust is a joke. The true scene is a crown of black holes studded with chrome butcher knives that you dare not agitate.

When you land the sweeping upper cut, you enjoy the limelight. Additional lighting is welcome to shine a spotlight on your achievement. The flashes you see are not fake angelic beings. They are spotlights of glory. When you receive the stiff upper cut, you enjoy the blackout. That’s exactly what I’m reveling in right now.

Third comes stillness. Even though the crowd roars louder than a lion and cameras click harder than high heels on marble, all goes silent for me. There is a weird combination of perfect peace and questioning existence.

Wow, it’s so quiet, where did everyone go? It must be nighttime in a quaint countryside cottage. Just how many feet did I travel this time? I can always determine that later, when I watch the highlight reels. Am I about to meet my maker? Hopefully not. I want to live more life, finish the round, fight another bout.

Currently I can’t even contemplate the here-and-now or the hereafter. I am wrapped in a roped off zero gravity tank. Next will be the foggy count up to ten. I’m thinking too far again. Focus. E=MC3. Elevation = Motivation x Commitment Raised To The Third.

Remember, remember, remember. When I hit that sparsely padded stretched canvas, everything rides on E=MC3. Remember…

About This Story

This is an entry for a Vocal+ Challenge. The prompt: Write a story that takes place entirely in flight.