"Right in his Belly!"


Thursday, January 26, 2017

FIST-BRANDED






Knocked off-balance, sucking wind, I stumble, potbellied, into his fist.


Bellyache hell. Still OOF-ing out the shock of his punch. No thought for defense at all. Nothing but a punched belly.


He saw me stunned and took full advantage. His fists found my belly again and again. Each slug in the stomach left me stunned from the suffering, and ripe and open for the next one.


I was battered and helpless. I had no wind in my body and no fight left in my bread-basket. My knees wobbled so much I had to lean on the wall.


I begged him not to do it. I offered no defense, but I pleaded. I offered my belly in a gesture of peace, stood with hands and gut relaxed. "Don't hit my belly!" Which is exactly what he did. With a drill-punch smack in my stomach.


Oh, my belly! I leaned against the wall, shamelessly bare-bellied, and sobbed.