Post by Eron Hunter on Oct 21, 2022 13:33:57 GMT -5
The camera was off. He took a deep drag from what was left of the cigarette in his right hand and jumped on the boat. The night was still young and the breeze was not tired of playing with his long hair. He grabbed the boat´s steering wheel and started swinging left and right, smiling like a child. He was playing with his dreams and his free spirit was on the call.
This would be the beginning of a new beginning. He would travel the world again, taking on challenges he had long thought as forgotten. The clash with Ronnie Long had awoken the dreamer in him again. Looking at Long and seeing things he would never want to happen to him, had switched the light on for the traveler and the vagabond in him.
He, Eron Hunter, would return to his roots and find in his heart things long thought forgotten. He would accept indie challenges and would sign contracts with underdog promotions, fighting people that were what he had been years and years ago. Before making it big, he was a vagabond and a dreamer.
The stars shone bright and threw their light on his face, a smiling face. He sat on the boat, gazing at the night sky, and lit another cigarette. What is life but a short, never-ending, moment? If we forget our dreams and desires, then what´s left of us?
He shook his head, looking at the black sea waters. It was the middle of the night and the starlight was not strong enough to shine through the salty waters, they seemed dark and mysterious. What secrets did they keep in them? Through centuries and millions of years gone, what dreams were drowned in them? And was it better or worse for a dream to vanish in the deep sea waters, rather than vanish in the mediocrity of everyday life?
He jumped off the boat, onto the pier concrete, and started pacing back and forth in front of the boat. With his hands behind his back and his head hanging on his chest, he was lost in thoughts. What was this fight for him? The fight against Ronnie Long, was a mere challenge for a title, or was it a fight against all that Eron Hunter thought was wrong in everyday life? He took a deep breath, without having any doubt that it was more of the second.
He sat on the ground, his arms hugging his knees, and gazed at the stars.
This fight, wasn´t for the title, in the end, at all.
It was a fight against a whole life vision. If he would lose to Ronnie Long, then he would have to accept that Long´s vision of things was better than his own. And this, and this, was completely unacceptable. He was ready to accept anything, but the fact that dreams and honor would have to lose to disillusion and cynical ways.
He shook his head; again, sighing and looking at the ground he took a deep breath and another one. This fight had more meaning for him than anything before in his now five-year-long wrestling career. He was deep in thought. What did he have to do so that he would not lose this fight, and would losing this fight means the end of everything for him?
He lay back on the concrete, his forearms behind his back, and gazed at the stars again.
He smiled. In the end, he smiled.
He had forgotten to think about the thin gray line…
…There was a whole world existing in that thin gray line.
He used to be a black-and-white sort of person in his early years. Now, he knew there are reasons for everything. Even Ronnie Long had his reasons for acting the way he did.
He chuckled.
Surely Joseph Stalin and Benito Mussolini had had their reasons too. That didn´t make them less of a dictator though. Ronnie Long had his reasons, but that didn´t make him less wrong. But, in the end, this was not the question. The question at hand was what Eron Hunter would do with his opponent and with his dreams…
..Yes, with his dreams!
In the end, he had to thank Ronnie Long for one thing: he had awoken the dreamer and the vagabond in Eron Hunter again. He would savor the rest of his young years as he had long forgotten how to do. Travels and dream hunting were on the day's order again.
They would last a long, short, eternity.
Until he, under the pressure of everyday life and success, would again forget for a moment.
But until then…
….Until then he was grateful for his dreaming heart and his Ideals.
This would be the beginning of a new beginning. He would travel the world again, taking on challenges he had long thought as forgotten. The clash with Ronnie Long had awoken the dreamer in him again. Looking at Long and seeing things he would never want to happen to him, had switched the light on for the traveler and the vagabond in him.
He, Eron Hunter, would return to his roots and find in his heart things long thought forgotten. He would accept indie challenges and would sign contracts with underdog promotions, fighting people that were what he had been years and years ago. Before making it big, he was a vagabond and a dreamer.
The stars shone bright and threw their light on his face, a smiling face. He sat on the boat, gazing at the night sky, and lit another cigarette. What is life but a short, never-ending, moment? If we forget our dreams and desires, then what´s left of us?
He shook his head, looking at the black sea waters. It was the middle of the night and the starlight was not strong enough to shine through the salty waters, they seemed dark and mysterious. What secrets did they keep in them? Through centuries and millions of years gone, what dreams were drowned in them? And was it better or worse for a dream to vanish in the deep sea waters, rather than vanish in the mediocrity of everyday life?
He jumped off the boat, onto the pier concrete, and started pacing back and forth in front of the boat. With his hands behind his back and his head hanging on his chest, he was lost in thoughts. What was this fight for him? The fight against Ronnie Long, was a mere challenge for a title, or was it a fight against all that Eron Hunter thought was wrong in everyday life? He took a deep breath, without having any doubt that it was more of the second.
He sat on the ground, his arms hugging his knees, and gazed at the stars.
This fight, wasn´t for the title, in the end, at all.
It was a fight against a whole life vision. If he would lose to Ronnie Long, then he would have to accept that Long´s vision of things was better than his own. And this, and this, was completely unacceptable. He was ready to accept anything, but the fact that dreams and honor would have to lose to disillusion and cynical ways.
He shook his head; again, sighing and looking at the ground he took a deep breath and another one. This fight had more meaning for him than anything before in his now five-year-long wrestling career. He was deep in thought. What did he have to do so that he would not lose this fight, and would losing this fight means the end of everything for him?
He lay back on the concrete, his forearms behind his back, and gazed at the stars again.
He smiled. In the end, he smiled.
He had forgotten to think about the thin gray line…
…There was a whole world existing in that thin gray line.
He used to be a black-and-white sort of person in his early years. Now, he knew there are reasons for everything. Even Ronnie Long had his reasons for acting the way he did.
He chuckled.
Surely Joseph Stalin and Benito Mussolini had had their reasons too. That didn´t make them less of a dictator though. Ronnie Long had his reasons, but that didn´t make him less wrong. But, in the end, this was not the question. The question at hand was what Eron Hunter would do with his opponent and with his dreams…
..Yes, with his dreams!
In the end, he had to thank Ronnie Long for one thing: he had awoken the dreamer and the vagabond in Eron Hunter again. He would savor the rest of his young years as he had long forgotten how to do. Travels and dream hunting were on the day's order again.
They would last a long, short, eternity.
Until he, under the pressure of everyday life and success, would again forget for a moment.
But until then…
….Until then he was grateful for his dreaming heart and his Ideals.
