Doors

A Story by SilentPreacher

Its a one shot I might expand upon. Based off some stupid post I read online. People turning into doors by getting punched to death. Stupid ideas sometimes spawn awesome thoughts.

DOORS

    “DOORS! DOORS EVERYWHERE!” Shouted the constable. “WHAT KIND OF MAD MAN ARE WE DEALING WITH!? SO MANY DOORS HERE!”
    How powerful must this man be, to punch such intricate doors? Not even world acclaimed carpenters could create such beauty, this man is truly an artist of murder.
    A crackling behind the constable alerts us to the beast’s presence. With one swift punch the back of the officers head he tumbles to the ground, clattering into a fine Venetian door, painted a beautiful navy blue. This is going to be one hell of a fight.
    “I will not go down too easily you f****r!” I manage to growl bravely at my opponent as I slip on my brass knuckles. “I’ll show you a beautiful door!”
    Now fully out into the light, I am able to get my first look at the beast. He must be nine feet tall, with long hair reaching down to his knees. I can smell the s**t stuck in it and it makes me want to puke. Long, bestial fingernails hang from eerily skeletal fingers, encrusted with the blood of his victims. The monsters sneers at me with pointed yellow teeth, dark brown eyes under furrowed eyebrows peer into my soul, and all I can do is wonder what kind of door I will be made into if I am not careful enough.
    Split second later and I find myself ducking under the first attack, a long forceful punch aimed right for my forehead. A sniper of fist to fist combat this one is. I counterattack with a boot to his knees, sending him tumbling on top of the Venetian that used to be my constable, cracking it in half.
“Rest in peace old friend.”
Tears welling up in my eyes, I quickly hop onto the beasts back, and dig in fists first into the back of his oddly elongated head. Tangled hair and blood all mix into my brass knuckles as I try my hardest to make the back of his skull successfully meet his nose, but with little success.
“GOD DAMN YOU! I WILL TURN YOU INTO THE MOST BEAUTIFUL F*****G FRENCH DOORS ANYONE HAS EVER F*****G SEEN! GRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” I am no better than the monster I fight as I growl and scream punching madly. I feel confident up until the point his elbow met my jaw and I could of swore I felt a doorknob appear above my heart. Up on his feet the beast regained his senses and landed three body shots, sending me to my knees, arms wrapped across what in my younger days were the most coveted pair of abs this side of the Rio Grande.
Snickers rippled through the air generated from the monster’s throat. He was laughing at me, at my desperate struggle. Somersaulting head over heels and then upright into the beast’s face, I planted my forehead into his chin, crushing his jaw and unhinging it. The attack was unfortunately a double edged sword for as I staggered back seeing stars I felt a stab in my shoulder, the f****r was stabbing me with its steely fingernails.
Screaming in pain I reached for his arm and grabbed tight around the wrist. In a feral state I tried in vain to wrench his arm away from its stabbing grip. I felt my skin slowly turning to wood, a knocker forming between my eyes.
“Oh God, please no!” The beast’s other hand coiled around my throat and constricted, lifting me off my feet, dangling me above. This is when it spoke to me, whispering in a cool, smooth voice, with a tinge of a Spanish accent.
“You will make an excellent cellar door for my grandmother’s house.” I felt his claws slip away from my shoulder and watched through blurry eyes as he lifted a fist high, ready to blow me into the afterlife. How can life be so cruel?
My mind flashed back to a day long ago, when my grand master taught me the ultimate technique. His words were fresh in my mind as if he stood next to me whispering in a ghostly voice, “Remember closely, for I tell you, my one and only trusted pupil. One day a day of desperate struggle will come to you, and it will force your hand into using this of ultimate attacks!” Now was the time to use it. This technique had taken me five months to learn, and two decades to master, now with my eyes closed in furious concentration, time slowed.
Before me I could see my doom, a skeletal hand racing towards my face like a comet out of space.   My body exploded in a grand heat, full of this power I threw a hand up and smacked the fist to the side. The force of the punch still carried through and flew by my head just slightly to the right, the air pulsing around his fist and furrowing my hair, close call. Bringing a knee up I connected it with my adversaries’ rib cage snapping a few bones inward giving him enough pain to distract him and bring his hand away from my throat.
This is my chance, dropping down to my haunches I aim two strong armed punches at his knee caps, blowing them out and dropping this titan to my height, I can’t resist. Standing back up and staring this monster in his eyes I sneer.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” I am such a bad-a*s. I rain hot, vengeful punishment into his face, transforming myself into a Gatling gun of punches. Laughing hysterically at my crippled opponent I absorb myself into my own little bubble of a world, a world where I am king and all those who oppose my reign are nothing but doors to be. With this thought I strike one last time, punching the abomination in square in the forehead, smashing into him with the force of a train, putting enough force into my attack to literally force his skull and spinal cord to rip out of the back of his head and topple backwards. Meaty husk and skeletal structure separate for a brief moment before with a crack of lightning a giant door decorated with the Tree of Life appears before me where the monster had been.
“So, my time has finally come.” Standing up I stride confidently onward towards my goal, immortality. “Bring it on.”

-END-