I manage to catch only a fleeting glimpse of my target before the blindfold is pulled over my eyes and I am handed my weapon. I hold the hard rod in my hands, testing its weight. Lifting it above my head, I can hear the cries and suggestions from the crowd around me.
“Go for his head!”
“No, no, no. Torso looks weaker.”
I disregard all comments and swing wildly, not caring where I land as long as I hit something. The rod whooshes through the air, and I can feel it glance my target, just enough to send it reeling. The crowd’s cheers are minimal, but enough to give me the confidence to swing again, this time aiming in the vicinity of his head.
I hear a rope jerk and my swing misses completely. I slide on loose pebbles and crash to the ground. I hear laughs from the crowd, and I can feel my face burning. Scrambling to my feet, slipping and sliding on the loose rocks, I take aim once more at my target.
However, I first brush as many pebbles from the ground as I can manage, and dig my feet deep into the packed dirt, steadying myself for my third and final swing. I can smell the stench of hunger and excitement from the crowd, almost as if it were the odor of some evil beast. Crowd, an invisible monster, tickling the edges of my murky vision, waiting for me on scarlet spider-legs. Waiting for me to either succeed or fail. Waiting with bated breath.
I swing with all my might, at a speed that I hadn’t expected possible, the surprise nearly tripping me again. I hear the rope snap again, but too late! I can feel the crunch of the rod hitting home, accompanied by a sickening tearing sound. Crowd roars, and I feel pride and joy buzz me like electricity, and I’m jostled by little boys and little girls, pushing and prying their way towards the mutilated piñata. I can smell the candy from here.

