Flash Fiction

“Krauser is down! He is not moving, this is it!” said the narrator. “We have a new Heavyweight UFC Champion! Johnson with an amazing uppercut hit and an outstanding high leg kick to put the Russian giant on the floor!”


                  “You’ve done it, you have fulfilled your dreams, time to celebrate.” Though Johnson after beating his opponent in a very short and easy fight. He had trained hard for 8 months without distractions and with the sole purpose of becoming the best fighter in the world. However, little did he knew about how hard it would to reach his desired strength and endurance, and after talking to a group of clandestine doctors, he decided to inject steroids into his body. This would illegally enhance all of his muscles and abilities, making it easier for him to win the belt. The fight had ended and all Johnson could think about was getting caught for breaking the rules, he had never been in this great shape and defeating the adversary in such a short time could raise suspects from the judges. Nevertheless, he had to stop thinking about it and start celebrating, he was now the actual champion and there were no reasons to be modest about it. As he headed down the hall, further and further from the octagon, Johnson noticed how the crowd started to worry and team doctors were all around Krauser, his coach told him to hurry or they would start the party without him.


                  Bottles of champagne popping all throughout the room, trainers and coaches jumping around thinking Johnson had won the fight cleanly since they were not familiar with anything regarding the steroids. Johnson was not happy nor proud, the atmosphere back in the arena worried him, he knew something bad was happening. He took a long cold shower as number of ideas lingered through his mind, ideas of regret and shame that would not get out. Lost in his own thoughts and sorrows, a knock on the door woke him up, it was time for the press conference.


                  “Mr. Johnson, Tom Rinaldi from ESPN. You’ve won the belt, what is next on your promising career?” “It is to early to know, for now I will enjoy this back in my hometown and wait for Krauser to challenge me for the title.” There was a moment of silence, no other reporter had a question or comment for the fighter until a woman raised her hand. “Dana White, Bleacher Report. It seems to me that by your answer, you are unaware Krauser is on his way to the hospital.” “What?” Interrupted Johnson as his face turned red and his palms sweaty. The press conference exploded with questions from all of the reporters in the room. “What are your thoughts regarding Krauser’s health?” “Social media fans say you have way too much muscle for it to be natural!” “Anything you’d like to tell to the Krauser family?”


                  It was way too much information for Johnson to process, he stood up and left the room. He wanted to be alone, the only thought in his head was about Krauser. “What if he is dead?” “Will he ever fight again?” “It is all my fault.” Thought Johnson. A message from his coach popped on his phone screen, “Judges want drug tests.”


It was over, his career was over. And just when his life could not have gotten any worse, he received another message, “Krauser did not make it.”


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