This week, I am writing flash fiction.
If you are curious, read why.
Diablo heard a trumpet sound, followed by a roaring cheer. He had heard people out there all day, but this collective roar was something different, and it made him instinctively rise to his feet. A heavy door slid open and the bright sunlight flooded into the small chamber that had held him for the past few hours. Diablo was immediately on his feet as he lunged to his escape from the stifling room. Sprinting to the sunlight, he quickly stopped, almost falling forward as his eyes adjusted to the light and he realized that he was surrounded by thousands of people, all elevated perfectly in a spectacular basin. He could see all of their eyes.
“El Diaaaaaablo!” a voice echoed throughout the giant bowl, and then was drowned out by the crowd’s roar.
Diablo slowly lumbered to the only other thing that was at the bottom of the basin with him: a caped human. The man stood still and raised his hands, making the crowd roar even louder. Diablo stood still, his body tense. He thought maybe this was the man who had thrown food into his chamber earlier. Perhaps he had some more food.
The man came toward him in a slow, proud stride, and the cheers of the people died down to a complete silence. Diablo remained still.
Out of nowhere, three other animals surrounded him. They had manes and tails, but were covered in armor. They were taller than Diablo, but he knew that he was bigger and stronger. They each had a human atop them, holding long sticks. As he turned his body to observe these new presences, he felt a painful jolt in his neck, as the caped man on the ground plunged a lance into him.
Enraged, Diablo snorted and began running in circles, looking for the man. But he was running away. The three animals began circling him. Blinded by fury, Diablo wished nothing more than to pierce one of the creatures with his horns. Yet, every time he attempted to do so, his horns were denied by the animal’s armor, and he was stabbed by the man riding it.
The pain was tremendous, and each blow was aimed at the same wound that the man on foot had opened up.
Finally, a trumpet sounded, and his tormentors mercifully rode away.
Diablo stood by himself in the basin for a very long time until the roars of the crowd began again as his caped adversary marched back onto the field, this time carrying a small cape and a sword. Feeling the pain of the wound that the man had created, Diablo snorted and stomped his hooves, kicking up dirt.
This is when the man held up the cape. He waved the fabric, making it flourish and flutter in a way that the wind never could, and it maddened Diablo to the point where he was charging the cape, despite the pain in his weakened neck and shoulder. The man tauntingly held it up, and Diablo was sure that if he could disable this cape, the man would soon fall. However, his rival moved it away at the last second, frustrating and enraging Diablo. The crowd roared again and Diablo wondered if they were happy that he had almost disabled the cape.
The man held up the cape, again making it flap unnaturally. Diablo snorted and charged again. After he passed through the cape this time, something sharp drove deep into his heart. For a brief moment, as he fell, he wondered if perhaps he had taken down the cape with his horns, for the crowd was cheering more loudly than ever.