By: Sahara

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 4th Aug 2021

”FIGHT is unlike anything youíve ever experienced. Itís unlike anything Iíve ever seen before, and itís reinvigorating professional wrestling as we know it.” -Sahara on SportsCenter

”Weíre puttiní passion back into the sport of professional wrestling where it belongs. Well, that and the sex and violence itís been missing.” -Sahara prior to throwing out the first pitch for the Miami Marlins

”FIGHT is wrestling reimagined. For adults, by adults. I challenge anyone to watch the replay of Blood Money — which weíre going to be streaming FREE of charge all weekend long on August 7th and 8th — and I guarantee youíll be hooked.” -Sahara on NBCSports


While her promotional tour was a pretty rousing success, the return flight was an unmitigated disaster. Some genius at United fucked up in ticketing and the very tan Sahara somehow ended up on an overbooked flight back to New York. The visibly annoyed blonde absently rapped her fingernails on the counter as she watched him do that super-speed typing they always seem to do right before they say–

”Iím sorry, Maíam, but thereís nothing we can doÖ”

Wouldnít ya know it?! Sheís the one that got bumped back to coach. Despite a well reasoned protest, and a few calls to the FIGHT Travel department, the only fix was to either take the seat in coach, or wait an extra two days for the proper flight back and that wasnít going to happen. While the time away was fun, she needed to get back into the action.

”Whatever. Gimme the damn coach ticketÖ .”

If time flies when youíre having fun, it stands fucking still when youíre waiting in an airport.

When boarding time finally arrived, she shook her head and heaved a sigh, softly banging the back of her head against a post she was leaning against. Just looking at the people as she was boarding the plane with, she silently thanked the CDC for their updated mask guidance. The idea of breathing recycled air with these people made her stomach turn–

Whatever, she thought. Itís just a few hours. How bad could it be?

Famous last words.

Her heart sank as her eyes landed on the empty seat listed on her ticket. She checked it about five more times, just to make sure this absolute hell was really happening. Sure enough, there it was, the window seat — yay! — right next to a fat slob that belonged in the fucking luggage bay of the plane.

Whatever, she thought, Iíll just sleep. She never did have a problem falling asleep in moving vehicles or planes. As she scooted past the guys in her row, she could almost feel them staring at her ass as she made her way toward the window. But, better they stare at the ass then her midriff, that just freaked her out having to make accidental eye contact. Finally taking her seat, she sighed when she heard the fat bastard next to her say the last thing she wanted to hear–

”Lauren? Lauren MacKay from American Vampire? Oh hell no, itís Sereena the Vampire–I was the biggest fan of that show!”

With her head leaning up against the window of the Boeing 737, Sahara nodded in acknowledgement of the excited passenger seated next to her, with his disgusting body fat cascading over her armrest. At that moment, she considered smashing her face through the window. This was the last thing she needed when all she wanted to do was drink a glass of champagne, take her shoes off, kick her feet up and sleep away the flight up in First Class where she belonged. She wanted to scream. And boy did this fucker take liberties — at least in her opinion — with his manspreading and constant accidental touching bullshit.

So of course, he wouldnít shut the fuck up asking for selfies and random questions about the show she couldnít possibly care less about. And it wasnít even interesting stuff, but mundane shit like–

”What’d you do with the ring you stole from Mistress Valerie after you killed her at the end of Season 2?” MY FUCKING GOD! DUDE, IF YOU ASK ME ONE MORE QUESTION ABOUT THAT FUCKING SHOW–I dunno, who even cares?! Itís not a real ring, I didnít really steal it, and FUUUUUUUUUUCK ME!

She briefly clenched her jaw before she answered, and once again thanked God for the mask mandate so this fucker couldn’t see her lip quivering with anger.

But then, when she spoke Ö her voice was sweet and inviting–

”I think thatís a great question. I actually gave it to a fan at a convention one day, some girl that had beaten uh, I believe it was thyroid cancer. It was pretty heartbreaking Ö itís hard to talk about it–“

None of that actually happened, but it sure sounded good–

”Wow, itís amazing youíd do that for a complete stranger.”

This sort of mindless banter went on for a while, and while Sahara was SCREAMING on the inside, she was outwardly nice and inviting to the man.

”Did you date any of your co-stars on the show?”

She shook her head, ”No, we always kept it professional both on and off the set–“

In reality, she fucked every last one of them…

”Yanno, I gotta say, youíre by far the nicest, most down to earth celebrity Iíve ever met. Usually you all sit up in first class and ignore your fans, but here you are in coach! Talking to me about your show!”

The blonde shrugged, ”I really enjoy being close with the fans, and sitting back here reminds me where I came from. First class and all that stuff is nice and all, but itís not really whatís important in life. Ya know?”

The man seemed genuinely touched by her words as he nodded, ”Ainít that is the truth! Man, I canít wait to tell everyone about this–“

”Oh, hey, while youíre at it, tell them to check out FIGHT NYC, itís a new pro wrestling league Iím a part of. Weíre changing the game–“ ”No way! I used to love wrestling until it became all, like, choreographed routines–“ ”Trust me, this ainít nothing like that.” ”Iíll be sure to check it out!”

The legitimate excitement in his voice was apparent. Then again, she could probably endorse eating salads without dressing at McDonalds and itíd suddenly be his favorite food…

What the hell was wrong with me?

Here we got this guy, who despite being a bit touchy/feely and very overweight, he was still pretty damn nice and having the time of his life. On a flight! Yet here she was, miserable as hell just having to sit in coach, while heís just happy to be here. And all because she happened to be seated next to him. This guy was probably wishing this flight would never end, while Sahara wanted nothing more than to borrow a gun so she could shoot herself in the head and get this nightmare over fasterÖ

What the hell was wrong with me?

Had she somehow become that person? The very person she swore sheíd NEVER become if she somehow got famous?!

What the hell was wrong with me?

For a brief moment, there was a sadness in her eyes, almost a remorse for having the thoughts she had about this guy sitting next to her, the other people she judged–

And then they announced thereíd be no drink service on the flight that day…

MOTHERFUCKER! Itís not that thereís something wrong with me Ö thereís something wrong with this fucking world. Itís excuse after excuse. No drink service. Why? Because Covid? Yet you can pack all these mouthbreathers into fucking WalMart?! Or on this goddamn plane?! And why do the wrong people always get to win?

People like Allison Riggs-fucking-Preston. ĎOhh, look at me, Iím sooooooo perfect. My father is a trillionaire and I wrestle for fun, not because I need the money. La-dee-da!í

Theyíre handed everything, yet take it all for granted. Perfect fucking children. Perfect fucking husbands. Perfect fucking lives. Theyíre beautiful–

While you couldnít see it, as her face was covered by her mask, she was absentmindedly scowling as she stared off into nothingness as her anger reached a boiling poin–

”——ou okay?!”

It took a second for his voice to pierce the veil, but Sahara shook out of her sudden and almost uncontrollable fit of anger to the suddenly sweet voice of the man seated next to her on the flight.

She let out a deep breath and nodded, a sudden fit of honestly overcoming her–

”Sometimes I think somethingís wrong, like something inside of my soul. I get like Ö really mad about stuff. Stupid stuff. And I donít know why. And I sure as hell donít know why Iím telling this to you–“

”Well, if it helps, I was having the absolute worst year of my life until you sat down next to me. My mother recently passed away, and between that and Covid, for the first time in forever while I was talking to you, I didnít think about any of it for a single second. So thank you for the best day Iíve had in a very long time.”

Those words came from a place of earnestness she almost couldnít comprehend.

”Youíre welcomeÖ”, was all she could muster up in response to what had to be the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. Those words should have made her feel good, because she helped make someone’s life a little better. But they didnít. At least, not for that reason. They made her feel good because it filled her with a momentary burst of vanity. She never wanted to sit in coach with this guy. She never wanted to talk to this guy. She wanted nothing to do with this guy or any of the other mouth breathing poors that fly coach. Everything sheíd said to this guy was an outright web of lies, specifically designed to make him feel better–

And it worked.


The very people she was angry about Ö she was one of them.

What the hell was wrong with me? Iím broken.


I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar’s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here

What have I become?