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Instincts This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


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They danced in the flickering light. Their feet bounced from the floor to the night sky, practically weightless. The competitors glimmered with sweat as they concentrated on the wordless motion of offense, their blood-red gloves tapping a punch.

There were no built-up hits or unrestrained power; they played in a tricky order. They danced back and forth, buzzing like high-strung bees containing their anger.

There were no humans in that ring – only two animals. The only thing to ­decide in this combat was who was the predator and who the prey. Instinct flowed through the veins of the boxers. A wild-eyed panther took shape inside each man, for nothing mattered more than taking down his opponent.

I watched in fascinated wonder. How could we still be so animal, through all we’ve accomplished? Such a primitive sport, but I never knew it could be so beautiful: the flash of bright silk clothing and darkness enveloping them.

Some things never leave us, no matter how hard we fight them; our animal instincts have not died.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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Jordan M. said...
Oct. 22, 2008 at 8:28 pm:
This is a very well descriptive essay about the author being nothing short of fascinated about two boxers in a ring. At first I was thinking the story would be about baseball, because of the picture next to it, but as I read on I soon learned about the animals in the cage with blood red gloves. It made me think more about the animal instincts of humans and how the fight is brought out.
 
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