The attack came from nowhere. It was as though a Rottweiler locked its jaws on his neck.
The channel of blood fueling his brain was dammed by the forearm of the brute on his back. Everything around him—lights, the crowd’s volume, scents of sweat and blood on the canvas—grew more and more distant.
His coach’s voiced echoed from somewhere at the end of a tunnel, “Fight his hands!”
Without the referee and a set of rules, he never would have seen the sun peek over the horizon again.
Prompted from Six Sentence Story Word Prompt at: https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2020/12/20/sundays-six-sentence-story-word-prompt-139/.