literature

Story of a fight

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Literature Text

There was a little moonlight, so, before turning his light on, Zaroff went to the window and looked down at the courtyard. He could see the great hounds, and he called, "Better luck another time," to them. Then he switched on the light.
A man, who had been hiding in the curtains of the bed, was standing there.
"Rainsford!" screamed the general. "How in God's name did you get in here?"
"Swam," said Rainsford. "I found it quicker than walking through the jungle."
The general sucked in his breath and smiled. "I congratulate you", he said. "You have won the game."
Rainsford did not smile. "I am still a beast at bay," he said, in a low, hoarse voice. "Get ready, General Zaroff."
The general made one of his deepest bows. "I see", he said "Splendid! One of us is to furnish a repast for the hounds. The other will sleep in this very excellent bed. On guard, Rainsford."

Without any hesitation, Zaroff dashed towards Rainsford and went for a right jab towards his head. Rainsford tilted his head a centimetre away from the jab. He showed no hesitation either, and counter-attacked, grabbing Zaroff's arm with with all his strength and rolling backwards, flipping Zaroff over him. While tumbling backwards, he also wrapped his legs around the arm, and thought of twisting it. A kick came out of nowhere and knocked his grasp off. He barely had the time to get up on his knees before Zaroff tackled him to the ground, placing a strong punch on his cheekbone. Again, he catched Zaroff's arm, and tried to roll his weight around it to crush it. No good, this time, Rainsford got kneed in the head, and before he could recover, he felt his foot being grabbed firmly. An intense wave of pain followed the muffled crunching sound as his ankle was destroyed. He copied Zaroff's move, and kneed Zaroff in the head to loosen his grip. Blood dripped from the side of Zaroff's head as his expression shifted from his usual cold-blooded poker-face to a mask of pure, red anger. Zaroff, again, got up faster than him and gave him a destabilizing round-house kick on the side of the head that seemed to echo within the case of resonance that is his skull. Rainsford wasn't all there anymore, he felt fear, he felt pain, he felt despair, but the fear of Zaroff's next attack gave him the impulse to persevere. He grabbed Zaroff's leg, slipped his whole body around it, his weight pulling Zaroff to the ground. He twisted the leg. It cracked. Zaroff screamed of pain, and before his scream ended, Rainsford rolled himself around Zaroff's back, and wrapped his arm around his head. His left forearm blocked Zaroff's nose and mouth; he could not breathe. As Zaroff tried with all his strength to undo the firm, asphyxiating knot around his head, Rainsford smashed his chin against Zaroff's skull, once, twice . . . Rainsford could feel the warmness of the blood gushing out of his adversaries' nose and mouth. In a supreme effort, Zaroff ran backwards to crush Rainsford against the walls and furniture. Rainsford felt hard objects raining down from the shelves onto him. The pain in his back was becoming unbearable, a constant rhythm of collisions, until they didn't hit anything. Rainsford widely opened his eyes and saw in a blurry motion : the wall, the ceiling, the sky. He felt weightless for a moment. Before they both fell out of the window down onto the hounds, he managed to put his feet against the top part of the window's frame, painfully finding a balance for the two men, between the castle and the fall. He waited, and felt Zaroff's body gradually relaxing as he was being choked, his eyes wide opened, saliva dripping abundantly from his mouth. It was over.

The next morning, Rainsford decided he had never slept in a better bed.
Okay so, I wrote this for my english class at college.
We had to add a part to the story "The Most Dangerous Game" by Richard Connel.

We had to write the final battle, which, I don't know why, was ellipsed in the real story.

I hope you guys enjoy!
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