Cliff reached the shed and corralled the swinging door. As he prepared to close and latch it, a little girl’s voice issued from within. “Can you help me?” He could barely make out a small; dirt streaked face in the back corner, as if the child was sitting, almost hiding in the darkness. Cliff stepped forward into the shed. The mixed smells of dirt, gasoline and grass clippings flooded his senses. He heard the slight shuffle of a foot on the dirty, wooden floor behind him and to the left. As he began to turn something slammed into his skull. Lights and blackness seemed to explode simultaneously in his vision as he fell forward. When he hit the floor Cliff felt a sickening crack in his nose. He rolled over, trying to clear his blurred vision. He could make out a shadow moving towards him. He rolled onto his side, feeling cold metal beneath his face. He reached to feel it, grabbed whatever it was and swung as hard as he could in the direction of the looming shadow. Cliff felt the metal object connect and register a satisfying crunch as his unknown assailant fell to his knees. As Cliff lay prone on his back, exhausted from the effort it took to defend himself, he could see a glint of metal as the blurry shadow raised something above his head. Cliff heard a whoosh and rolled to his right. A shot of pain momentarily cleared his vision as his broken nose grazed the floor. He heard a thunk as a shovel stabbed into the wooden floor inches behind his head. Cliff swung the metal crowbar he had picked up, striking the shadow in the largest, darkest area. He hoped he had broken a few ribs. He heard the dark, blurry shadow gasping for breath. It sounded like the rough, coarse breathing of a very large man. The dirty-faced girl rushed past the two fallen men and out into the storm. Cliff could feel the rain blowing in on his face as thunder rolled across the sky overhead. The open shed door continued to blow and slam against the side of the shed. Cliff crawled towards his attacker, barely seeing, hoping to inflict more damage. A kick to his head ended that hope as the now very solid shadow pulled itself to it’s feet and limped out of the shed and into the gray, wet day. Cliff lay on his back exhaling, unintentionally blowing a bubble through the flow of hot, sticky, crimson fluid pouring from his swollen nose. His head began to swim as everything around him began to sway and spin. He closed his eyes, “I’ll just rest for a minute,” he thought. As Cliff passed into unconsciousness his cell phone went off, “She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman I had ever seen…”
My question is, does this sound like a convincing fight scene? I’ve never written one before.