Entertainment

• Amanda Kheir, Grade 11, Cerdon College
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

The stench of putrid flesh was pungent in the air. Large flies scavenged over the fallen beast, gouging at the thick brown stream that surged from its jaw. His muzzle of sharp teeth, now stained red, were left revealed after his final roaring cry which had sent the audience leaping from their seats and howling. The victorious lion and slain tiger had been taken off the stage, leaving traces of blood in its place.
Maximus brushed the streams of sweat off his sunken brow as his teeth gripped his dry lips to the point where he drew blood. He inhaled heavily, flaring his nostrils as the blood awakened in him a savage hunger. His back was turned from the crowd towards the small statue of Nemesis, Goddess of fortune, and, he pondered the fate that awaited him: fortune or death?
The guard placed a sinister smile on his face as he motioned the two opponents to the center of the theater. In front of Maximus were the remnants of a wholesome man once equipped with the sparks of youth; remnants of a friend who feared with Maximus about the bleak end; Cato. Their meeting today however was not as sparring partners in the fields in friendly banter, but as hardened enemies, a direct product of their society.
The roars erupting from the audience seemed to quieten down and soon all that Maximus could hear was the triton that Cato repeatedly lifted and struck back to the ground. Maximus remembered the pits very well; the long hours in the scorching sun; coarse hands etched with large cracks; and men spitting blood after another whip lashed on his back. When the lanista came looking for new blood, Cato was the first to be recruited to the great gladiator schools, damnati ad ludos. Maximus was the second.
The crescendo of the crowd’s barks and howls dragged Maximus back to the arena where he was on the ground using his arms to protect his bruised face. Cato snarled and screamed, "Get up and be a man and fight. At least give these people some entertainment.”
Cato, lifted the trident sturdily and rustled the net on the ground in his other hand. His face was stone cold; his eyes, a lion-like blaze of amber. He gurgled blood in his dry mouth with large strands of red saliva oozing between his yellow teeth and down his hardened jaw.
Cato picked up the sword that Maximus once used as his defense and swiftly slashed his throat without hesitation. Maximus cried and placed his arms around his neck attempting to tame the gush of blood flowing from his throat. His body smashed on the floor and the audience triumphed with enthusiasm.
As Cato was being led away, he saw a little boy tugging on his mother’s dress saying, "I can’t wait for the next show.” The chilling reminder settled in Cato’s mind: today he had been the slayer, but he lay in reserve for another day.