Writing Prompts (Week 1) - Gladiator

_{By José Moreno Carbonero - Colección, Museo del Prado., Public Domain, Link}

---

It was increasing with the passing of the days, or rather, of the years. It accumulated little by little, imperceptibly, but never stopped being there. It began as a small anguish, an unanswered question, a brief answer, an uncomfortable silence, an unutterable fear.

He tried to ignore it, he tried to concentrate on other things and continue his life, he pretended to live a relatively normal life with a lot of effort, but it was a simple appearance. Inside, he felt the monster grow day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute, second after second, beat after beat.

He found relief in the constant practice of actions that would help him at the decisive moment, one, two, three, hundreds, thousands, millions of times he repeated movements, twists, feints over the years. His body learned to do impossible things with the naturality with which the rest of mortals breathe, his fame grew, thousands, millions watched him with astonishment do feats that they thought impossible, but he knew that it was not enough, it should be better, it should reach perfection. He persisted.

Being the most skillful was not enough. Movements, feints and deceptions were important but they guaranteed him absolutely nothing against his rivals. To compete, he needed endurance, he needed speed, he needed strength, toughness to resist his attacks. In order to compete against the fittest, he had to be able to match them despite his less suited body. He trained his physique, ran, lifted weights, built a body with columns for legs, powerful, muscular but not because of that, less skillful.

But with the years, his physique was decaying, while accumulating experience he lost resistance and speed. He was still skillful, strong and fast but not enough, he knew the bitter defeat. He became obsessed with details that very few knew, he learned to read the faces of his opponents, he learned to think before them, to read their movements, to wait for their mistakes, to detect their weaknesses. He adapted his technique to a decadent body and supplied youth with experience. He learned to take advantage of his virtues and to hide his defects. 

In his tortuous way, his face became known, some adults looked at him with respect, others with admiration and many others with envy and resentment. The children smiled sincerely at him, in their eyes shone the same feelings that inspired him on his path. He knew that he, a man tormented by the monster in his chest inspired in others the fire to pursue their dreams.

Despite all the sacrifice and failures, he did not regret it, he never would. He enjoyed the journey, he enjoyed every moment, he enjoyed the landscape, he enjoyed victories, he learned from defeats, he touched glory, and tasted the gall of defeat. He learned to love that monster that grew in his chest.

A life of pain led him through twists and turns to that instant. The monster no longer fit in his chest and threatened to explode, the heart rumbling after the titanic effort of his last fight, it was now or never.

Hours before, as he entered the arena he knew he would never return. As soon as he heard the last ovation they would receive him in the great temple of gladiators, he concentrated as he was. He fought bravely, wasted effort, withstood clashes, dodged kicks from younger, stronger men, lifted the crowd from their seats, provoked marvelous gestures as the monster whispered in his ear. However, his efforts failed to give him a definite advantage.

But someone had to win, on the verge of fainting, exhausted after the long struggle they drew strength from weakness to give one last effort. It would all end with the first thing he learned. Strength, speed, resistance, all that brought him to that definitive moment but they would not serve him to prevail, he smiled at the irony. Silence took over the crowd, the certainty of seeing the epic end of a stoic path shut all mouths.

He breathed trying to calm the tension that accelerated his heart on a wild ride, he tried to pretend a security he did not feel. He closed his eyes for a moment, returned to his most tender childhood, remembered his father teaching him that simple movement, remembered his cheerful scream when he finally learned it, saw himself a child flying through the air propelled by strong arms, shouting the sacred word in duet, remembered the words and the proud smile of his father when he took him by the hand to take him back to his miserable home.

Time seemed to stop, the air thickened. He looked at the man in front of him, much taller, much stronger, much younger. He forced himself to smile, revealing a security he did not feel. Silence accompanied the trajectory of his left leg, millions of eyes followed his movement, millions of ears listened to the impact of his foot, millions of mouths exploded with him shouting the sacred word, releasing the long oppressed monster, all worshipped the God who gathered them there, all worshipped the self- forged hero echoing his liberating cry, all shouted with all their soul:

GOAL!