Punching Bag Book Novels & Stories

She changed into a black baggy T-shirt and gray sweatpants. She put on her gloves and stood in front of the punching bag. She punched relentlessly, each blow harder than the last. A few minutes later, she was covered in sweat, and her arms felt like jelly, but she didn’t stop. She continued punching, then swung her legs and gave it a hard kick, threatening to destroy the chain that held the bag. Alice turned sharply when she heard someone clapping from behind her. It was a guy around her age, with dark brown hair and a cheerful grin. In the next second, a guy with full blonde hair walked in, wearing an aloof expression. Alice didn’t care about either of them.

My eyes fix on the heavy bag, hanging there like it’s waiting for me. No gloves. No wraps. I square up, fists clenched tight, and I start throwing punches. Left. Right. Jab. Cross. The sound of my fists slamming into the bag echoes in the stillness, sharp and raw. My knuckles sting almost immediately, but I welcome it. Pain is better than this emptiness. The bourbon still burns in my blood, but it doesn’t slow me down. If anything, it drives me harder. I keep hitting the bag until my breath saws in and out of my lungs and my shoulders burn. Sweat rolls down my spine, mixing with the sting of scraped skin.

But I couldn't be anything. "I can see it. You're not weak, mate. Now practice. Get expert in two moves and then we'll proceed, " He said and motioned at the punching bag. I exhaled and walked over to it. I got in the position as he taught me, "Right?" I asked, looking at him over my shoulder. He drew my right elbow sight back and left hand above close to my face, "Now try to punch and move swiftly on your feet around the bag," He said.

"Not the bag's tempo. Not emotion. Your breath is the metronome. And before every punch, ask yourself one thing: Why?" "Why I'm punching?" "Yes." "Because it's the only thing I do right," Lennox said quietly, not looking at her. "No," Sloane shook her head. "It's the only thing you do. That's different." Silence. Lennox's muscles tensed, but he didn't respond. "Step," she said. "Right. Lower your weight. Left hand forward—one. Not full power. Just technique. One–two. Hold your form." Lennox punched. Lighter than usual, but so precise the bag let out a deep thud.

he said, I opened my legs more, “Not like that, do it this way,” he demonstrated with his body, “lean your weight to your legs, use the momentum to strike” he hit punching bag, it flew on its swing, he caught it and positioned it. “Your turn,” I exhaled, them following his orders, I tried again, this time the bag shifted slightly, I squealed in excitement, “did you see that?” “Manageable” he said, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Chris grabbed the two wooden swords sitting in the corner of the room. He approached the bag, so his left shoulder was facing the bag. Chris stood motionless for a minute, then suddenly lunged forwards striking the bag with the sword in his right hand. He stepped back and hit the bag again, this time with his left. He continued hitting the bag aggressively. All of his anger and frustration was being released into the punching bag. Chris hit the bag one last time, causing the bag to burst open. Sand leaked onto the floor, creating a pile under the bag. “Damnit,” Chris screamed, punching the bag, causing more sand to fall out. Chris winced as he shook his hand.

💛Daniel 💜 I punched hard against the punching bag. It waged backwards and came towards me, I dodged and kicked it. I kicked with the first leg then with the second leg all at the same time. I punched and punched for over ten minutes before I stopped. I was really sweating. A bottle water popped up before me. I looked to see a boy, wearing black shorts only. He should be one of the guys that have been coming here since yesterday. When I came to the gym yesterday, I was so impressed. It was huge and well equipped. Some teenagers were already working out when I arrived.

Scary uncle said and I looked at my hands not seeing anything. "I don't have anything, my hands are empty!" I said wiggling my fingers at him. "I didn't mean show me what's in your hands I meant I want you to punch that bag and make it move," He pointed at the blue punching bag that was in the middle and I looked on with realisation. "Okay," I said going to the punching bag. I used all my straight and punched it but sadly it didn't even move an inch. It felt like I just punched a wall.

Book Fifteen: Ancient Ways Sweat stung my eyes, the thud of my hands against the heavy bag vibrating up my arms and into my chest. I leaned back and lashed out with one foot in a roundhouse, connecting solidly with the cracked vinyl, the chain creaking as I sent the bag swinging. "Nice hit." I turned, wiping my face on the shoulder of my t-shirt to the grinning face of my kick-boxing instructor. Sage steadied the bag, deep green eyes smiling as much as his mouth.

Gym equipment surrounded me, and my ponytailed hair kept slapping my in the face as I swung round to punch the bag again. "Keep your fists up, your grace. Remember, when you punch, you need to do so with your entire body, don't let your arm take the brunt of it." I nodded ever so slightly at the warriors words and swung again, this time using my weight to hit the bag instead of my mere arm strength. Shockingly the punching bag swung ever so slightly and I smiled at the feat I though was impossible when I first started this morning. "Excellent work, Now, back to the treadmill." I looked at my trainer in exasperation, my most likely bright red face staring at him in shock.