It was the big game, the state championship, scholarships were on the line, players lives were in jeopardy of being a flop. Nervous were coming as the sun began to rise. " I wish I would of slept." Said Justin to his Mom "Your just nervous dear. You will win the game tonight, I just know it." There was a hard knock on the door and a group of jittery boys appeared in the doorway. "Who's knocking at this hour" hissed his mother who was still in her blue nightgown. "It's ok am sure it's just my team. I wonder what's wrong?" As Jim approached the door there was a sudden quietness to the group of jittery boys who just stared at him as he opened his door. "Hey! Jimmy how are you." Said the tall ,toned, blonde boy who seemed to be leading the group. "What's wrong?" "Ok, ok, we will get down to business. You can't play today. Your drug test came back positive." "What! You said that they couldn't detect the kind of drug that we used."
Her long fingers moved deftly through her flaming red hair, braiding and twisting it incessantly. Her breath formed clouds, mingling in the chill air with the breath of others. Every face was directed towards the field. Every eye was either focused on the small clump of people on the forty yard line or scanning the players, counting their numbers. "I don't see Kyle Davis, Frank Callaway, or Hank Rhymer." The girls fingers froze, paralyzed by fear as it seeped through her body. "Check again," she whispered. Her friend glanced at her before straining to see over the mass of people that stood before them. "He's number 24, Di, are you sure you don't see him? He's shorter than most of the boys, he could be standing in front of them." "I don't think so, Meg. But there are only two players down, he could be crouching in the huddle of people that's around them." Meg examined Diane anxiously, knowing that she was just as frightened. After all, if Hank was the uninjured one that meant that her brother, Kyle, was down. She didn't wish it upon Callaway and especially not Kyle, but the thought of Hank lying motionless on the field left her breathless with dread. "Wait!" Her friend grasped her arm desperately, using it to hold her stead as she stood on tiptoe. "One of the players is standing and he's helping another up. It's...it's..." They turned their backs to the stands revealing the numbers 11 and 43. Diane fell into Meg's arms, sobbing in relief, but all Meg could do was stare blankly at the cluster of people on the field. If Kyle and Frank were okay than Hank was the one the ambulance had come for. Hank was the one who the coaches were crowded around. Hank was the one who wasn't getting up. She patted Diane's back aimlessly and watched as her best friend's body was heaved onto a stretcher and removed from the stadium.
It was the championship game for the basketball team and the team was very excited. They have all been waiting for this moment since the beginning of the season. The point guard dribbled up the court with one minute left to go in the fourth quarter and the score is 45-45, it's a tied game. And eventually the time wore down to 20 seconds and the score was still 45-45. The point guard has the ball and went for a lay up didn't make the shot but got fouled. He is on the line to shoot two. He missed the first one. And swish the second one went in. There dream came true they won the championship game!
Bare arms and toned legs fill my view My own tremble slightly as I make my way to the edge of the concrete I try to remind myself that it’s only the beginning I try to remind myself of my hours of preparation I try to remind myself that the cheers invading my ears are for me But I only remember the color of the water I only remember its cool, inviting touch I look up; I see faces Some are familiar and smiling Some are unknown; their eyes observant and judging No one can help me now I’ll enter alone; I’ll race alone I’ll rejoice or cry all alone A speaker screams with a crackling voice, telling me my time has come The starting blocks resemble mountains Tall, intimidating, statures to guide me My fear of falling disappears The bodies beside to me assume the same position Ready Thoughts whiz through my head and bounce off the walls of my skull Invisible creatures born to distract me I can’t comprehend them; there’s no time One deep breath is all I have time for One deep breath is all I need That, and speed of course The buzzer sounds and the rest of the world fades to grey I jump
*i, like Devyn, had difficulty making this into a story
She didn't play for the experience. She didn't play for the fame. She didn't play for the cheers of ambitious fans The flashing cameras Or the adrenaline rush. She didn't even play for the competition. She played for the moment of tipoff, beginning this test of desire. The bruises she received every time she sacrificed herself to the game. The urgency to push the ball up the floor for a final miracle. The passion required to execute one more play. The worn out sneakers, torn and scarred. The victorious embrace when the battle was won. She played purely For the love of the game.
I was on the court. There was 20 seconds on the clock. Marty, our point guard, had the ball. She was just letting the clock run out. 10 seconds... A hand grasped my arm. I was pulled off the court unexpectedly. We were under the bleachers when the buzzer rang. I heard cheers and screams. The man hid his face with a black ski mask. He put a finger to my lips, and left. I heard a man yelling. Complete silence before the gut sinking explosion. The bleachers shook and people screamed. I didn't know how to help. I curled up into a ball. Another tear escaped each time there was a bang.
"CHICKEN FINGERS!" Cathy cried, racing towards Lorraine with a flimsy cardboard box that was teaming with crispy chicken fingers and pools of ketchup.
"Calm yourself." Lorraine remarked with a smirk, taking another swig of her water and leaning her elbows back on the fence which separated the spectators from the runners on the track.
"You don't understand how long I've been waiting for these." Cathy said in a quiet voice, staring at her meal with the same awe and wonder one might expect to see in the face of nun seeing God, or a child meeting Santa Claus. "This track invite has the best food."
"Oh don't I know it." Lorraine replied with a nod, "which is why I'm so upset that I'm not hungry."
"You're never hungry after races because you're weird."
Lorraine tugged at the bottoms of her black, spandex shorts and faded track uniform before opening her mouth to make some snarky comeback, however, before she could Cathy was shoving her box of fried food into her hands and began shouting at a group of boys from another team passing by.
"Pew, pew, pew!" She shrieked, her hands held out in front of her, folded into the shape of a gun.
Several in the group understood the point of the silly game and fell to their knees, holding their chests or arms and crying out in dramatized fits of pain.
Cathy erupted into a fit of boisterous laughter, but before she could aim the gun and point elsewhere a girl and boy dressed in bright scarlet and royal blue uniforms walked by, who Cathy recognized, and she went tearing off after them.
"Wait!" Lorraine called, holding out the greasy box in front of her, "take your food, please."
Cathy grabbed her box, muttering a hurried "Thanks, girl." and scampered off, an energetic bounce in her gait.
Lorraine watched her go, a small smile creeping its way onto her tired and red face. The recovery process was sometimes just as grueling as the race itself.
In her daze Lorraine scarcely noticed as one of the boys who had been shot by Cathy's imaginary bullets made his way over to her.
"A little too soon. Don't ya think?"
Lorraine jerked her head to face him with a start. "Pardon?"
"What with that shooting that's been all over the news. Don't you think its a little soon for your friend to be making a joke like that?"
Lorraine didn't realize that she was gnawing at her chapped lips as she mulled over a response and examined the stranger. The boy in front of her was about equal to her own height, somewhere in the neighborhood of 5'9" with a thick build. On his nose rested a pair of wireless, steel gray glasses which matched the dull color of his eyes.
Finally, Lorraine shrugged. "Probably, but she is harmless. It's all in good fun."
For a moment the boy's face was stoic, and Lorraine's hazel eyes stared blankly into his. but eventually his eyes began to squint as his mouth broke open to reveal a toothy grin. "I'm just messing with ya. She's funny."
Lorraine returned the smile and released her built up nervous energy in the form of shrill giggles. "She's a character."
A gun sounded to her left, signaling the start of the last race of the day. She began to turn, watching as the runners surged from the start line, however, the boy caught her shoulder, facing her towards him once more.
"So," he gestured towards her uniform top, "I assume you ran today."
Lorraine nodded, scanning him and his jeans and polo shirt. "Did you not? Or were you just fortunate enough to be done early in the day."
He chuckled. "No. I never make invitationals. Just came to help out."
Lorraine grinned. "That's nice. You're the lucky one today, it was grueling out there."
A moment of silence passed between them and Lorraine avoided his piercing gaze.
"So," he began again, "how old are you?"
"Oh, I'm sixteen!" Lorraine replied quickly, "my birthday is in a few weeks though. How about you?"
"I'm eighteen. A senior. Are you a junior, still?"
Lorraine nodded. "A senior, woooowww. I bet you're getting excited for graduation."
The boy's potato face began to shake violently back and forth in affirmation. "Being a senior is great, like, I feel like I can just do whatever I want."
"Whatever you want." Lorraine repeated absentmindedly, spotting out of the corner of her eyes a streak of black hair dressed in maroon, her friend Riley making her way around the track in lane three. "I'm sure."
"Yea, I mean, anything" he shuffled his feet for a moment and gazed at Lorraine's face intently, his eyes coming to rest upon her lips, "like this."
Suddenly he grabbed at Lorraine's shoulders and drew himself towards her. Realizing what it was he was attempting to do Lorraine managed a harsh "no!" but it was too late, or he just didn't care.
He planted his puckered lips on hers, then pulled away as the pressure of her hands on his shoulders increased.
She stared at him, her eyes wild and her fists clenched at her sides. Her heart was pounding and she longed to scream one-hundred profane terms at him, but her mind had since shut down and left her speechless
"Sorry," he said without a hint of sincerity, "but, you agreed, it seemed like I could do whatever I wanted."
"Not exactly what I meant." Lorraine growled, using the back of her hand to unceremoniously wipe the remnants of the kiss off her mouth. She turned away from him, folding her arms in front of her on the fence and resting her chin on them.
A million thoughts fought for Lorraine's attention. Should she say something else? Should she slap him? She had always wanted to slap someone...
He reappeared by her side, slipping into her hand a small piece of paper.
"Look me up anytime." He whispered in her ear, and then finally turned to leave.
Lorraine looked about her, searching for someone, anyone in the sea of people who had just seen that happen.
Lorraine looked to her left where just a few feet away stood a friend of hers, Andrew, chatting quietly with a girl from another team.
"Andrew," Lorraine moaned, "did you see that?"
"That guy talking to you? Yea, he was weird wasn't he?"
"He kissed me."
"What?"
"He kissed me."
Andrew's eyes were as big and round as the wheels of a bus and Lorraine was certain hers looked the same.
Andrew looked passed Lorraine for a moment. Cathy was making her way towards them.
"Cathy get over here!" Andrew instructed, waving his arms wildly.
"Why? What's wrong."
Lorraine turned to glare menacingly at Cathy. "You have no idea what you and your little game have caused."
His little eyes crew bigger as he watched the game. He thought to himself, "when I grow up, I want to be like that. I want to be like that boy dunking the basketball. I want to be like the boy making the half court shots. I can't wait to be like all of the boys. I can't wait to be on the team. I can't wait to grow up. "
The time was about midday. The wind was chilling. Me and the rest of the band had just loaded onto the bus to go to the Dutch football field to play a home game. I was excited, not because I got to play but because of what I got to play. It was one of the first times I got to play bass drum. I was on bass one which was the smallest of all the bass drums. We get there and due to the cold it is hard to play the drums. This is because I, along with all the other drummers, seemed to lose the dexterity in our fingers and have to try to play the fast rhythms. The snow now blows down the back of my already uncomfortable band uniform while we begin to play. The "thud, thud, thud" of the bass drums and the snaps and pops of the snare drums and tenors along with the clash and hiss of the cymbals all go together to create the most glorious of cadences I've ever heard.
It was the big game, the state championship, scholarships were on the line, players lives were in jeopardy of being a flop. Nervous were coming as the sun began to rise.
ReplyDelete" I wish I would of slept." Said Justin to his Mom
"Your just nervous dear. You will win the game tonight, I just know it." There was a hard knock on the door and a group of jittery boys appeared in the doorway.
"Who's knocking at this hour" hissed his mother who was still in her blue nightgown.
"It's ok am sure it's just my team. I wonder what's wrong?"
As Jim approached the door there was a sudden quietness to the group of jittery boys who just stared at him as he opened his door.
"Hey! Jimmy how are you." Said the tall ,toned, blonde boy who seemed to be leading the group.
"What's wrong?"
"Ok, ok, we will get down to business. You can't play today. Your drug test came back positive."
"What! You said that they couldn't detect the kind of drug that we used."
Would have liked for you to develop the ending a little more. It kind of ends at the climax. Interesting approach.
DeleteHer long fingers moved deftly through her flaming red hair, braiding and twisting it incessantly. Her breath formed clouds, mingling in the chill air with the breath of others. Every face was directed towards the field. Every eye was either focused on the small clump of people on the forty yard line or scanning the players, counting their numbers.
ReplyDelete"I don't see Kyle Davis, Frank Callaway, or Hank Rhymer." The girls fingers froze, paralyzed by fear as it seeped through her body.
"Check again," she whispered. Her friend glanced at her before straining to see over the mass of people that stood before them. "He's number 24, Di, are you sure you don't see him? He's shorter than most of the boys, he could be standing in front of them."
"I don't think so, Meg. But there are only two players down, he could be crouching in the huddle of people that's around them."
Meg examined Diane anxiously, knowing that she was just as frightened. After all, if Hank was the uninjured one that meant that her brother, Kyle, was down. She didn't wish it upon Callaway and especially not Kyle, but the thought of Hank lying motionless on the field left her breathless with dread.
"Wait!" Her friend grasped her arm desperately, using it to hold her stead as she stood on tiptoe. "One of the players is standing and he's helping another up. It's...it's..." They turned their backs to the stands revealing the numbers 11 and 43. Diane fell into Meg's arms, sobbing in relief, but all Meg could do was stare blankly at the cluster of people on the field. If Kyle and Frank were okay than Hank was the one the ambulance had come for. Hank was the one who the coaches were crowded around. Hank was the one who wasn't getting up. She patted Diane's back aimlessly and watched as her best friend's body was heaved onto a stretcher and removed from the stadium.
It was the championship game for the basketball team and the team was very excited. They have all been waiting for this moment since the beginning of the season. The point guard dribbled up the court with one minute left to go in the fourth quarter and the score is 45-45, it's a tied game. And eventually the time wore down to 20 seconds and the score was still 45-45. The point guard has the ball and went for a lay up didn't make the shot but got fouled. He is on the line to shoot two. He missed the first one. And swish the second one went in. There dream came true they won the championship game!
ReplyDeleteBare arms and toned legs fill my view
ReplyDeleteMy own tremble slightly as I make my way to the edge of the concrete
I try to remind myself that it’s only the beginning
I try to remind myself of my hours of preparation
I try to remind myself that the cheers invading my ears are for me
But I only remember the color of the water
I only remember its cool, inviting touch
I look up; I see faces
Some are familiar and smiling
Some are unknown; their eyes observant and judging
No one can help me now
I’ll enter alone; I’ll race alone
I’ll rejoice or cry all alone
A speaker screams with a crackling voice, telling me my time has come
The starting blocks resemble mountains
Tall, intimidating, statures to guide me
My fear of falling disappears
The bodies beside to me assume the same position
Ready
Thoughts whiz through my head and bounce off the walls of my skull
Invisible creatures born to distract me
I can’t comprehend them; there’s no time
One deep breath is all I have time for
One deep breath is all I need
That, and speed of course
The buzzer sounds and the rest of the world fades to grey
I jump
I couldnt wright a story of a swim meet it just didnt feel right
Delete*i, like Devyn, had difficulty making this into a story
ReplyDeleteShe didn't play for the experience.
She didn't play for the fame.
She didn't play for the cheers of ambitious fans
The flashing cameras
Or the adrenaline rush.
She didn't even play for the competition.
She played for the moment of tipoff, beginning this test of desire.
The bruises she received every time she sacrificed herself to the game.
The urgency to push the ball up the floor for a final miracle.
The passion required to execute one more play.
The worn out sneakers, torn and scarred.
The victorious embrace when the battle was won.
She played purely
For the love of the game.
I was on the court. There was 20 seconds on the clock. Marty, our point guard, had the ball. She was just letting the clock run out. 10 seconds... A hand grasped my arm. I was pulled off the court unexpectedly. We were under the bleachers when the buzzer rang. I heard cheers and screams. The man hid his face with a black ski mask. He put a finger to my lips, and left. I heard a man yelling. Complete silence before the gut sinking explosion. The bleachers shook and people screamed. I didn't know how to help. I curled up into a ball. Another tear escaped each time there was a bang.
ReplyDelete"CHICKEN FINGERS!" Cathy cried, racing towards Lorraine with a flimsy cardboard box that was teaming with crispy chicken fingers and pools of ketchup.
ReplyDelete"Calm yourself." Lorraine remarked with a smirk, taking another swig of her water and leaning her elbows back on the fence which separated the spectators from the runners on the track.
"You don't understand how long I've been waiting for these." Cathy said in a quiet voice, staring at her meal with the same awe and wonder one might expect to see in the face of nun seeing God, or a child meeting Santa Claus. "This track invite has the best food."
"Oh don't I know it." Lorraine replied with a nod, "which is why I'm so upset that I'm not hungry."
"You're never hungry after races because you're weird."
Lorraine tugged at the bottoms of her black, spandex shorts and faded track uniform before opening her mouth to make some snarky comeback, however, before she could Cathy was shoving her box of fried food into her hands and began shouting at a group of boys from another team passing by.
"Pew, pew, pew!" She shrieked, her hands held out in front of her, folded into the shape of a gun.
Several in the group understood the point of the silly game and fell to their knees, holding their chests or arms and crying out in dramatized fits of pain.
Cathy erupted into a fit of boisterous laughter, but before she could aim the gun and point elsewhere a girl and boy dressed in bright scarlet and royal blue uniforms walked by, who Cathy recognized, and she went tearing off after them.
"Wait!" Lorraine called, holding out the greasy box in front of her, "take your food, please."
Cathy grabbed her box, muttering a hurried "Thanks, girl." and scampered off, an energetic bounce in her gait.
Lorraine watched her go, a small smile creeping its way onto her tired and red face. The recovery process was sometimes just as grueling as the race itself.
In her daze Lorraine scarcely noticed as one of the boys who had been shot by Cathy's imaginary bullets made his way over to her.
"A little too soon. Don't ya think?"
Lorraine jerked her head to face him with a start. "Pardon?"
"What with that shooting that's been all over the news. Don't you think its a little soon for your friend to be making a joke like that?"
Lorraine didn't realize that she was gnawing at her chapped lips as she mulled over a response and examined the stranger. The boy in front of her was about equal to her own height, somewhere in the neighborhood of 5'9" with a thick build. On his nose rested a pair of wireless, steel gray glasses which matched the dull color of his eyes.
Finally, Lorraine shrugged. "Probably, but she is harmless. It's all in good fun."
For a moment the boy's face was stoic, and Lorraine's hazel eyes stared blankly into his. but eventually his eyes began to squint as his mouth broke open to reveal a toothy grin. "I'm just messing with ya. She's funny."
Lorraine returned the smile and released her built up nervous energy in the form of shrill giggles. "She's a character."
A gun sounded to her left, signaling the start of the last race of the day. She began to turn, watching as the runners surged from the start line, however, the boy caught her shoulder, facing her towards him once more.
"So," he gestured towards her uniform top, "I assume you ran today."
Lorraine nodded, scanning him and his jeans and polo shirt. "Did you not? Or were you just fortunate enough to be done early in the day."
He chuckled. "No. I never make invitationals. Just came to help out."
Lorraine grinned. "That's nice. You're the lucky one today, it was grueling out there."
"Hot?"
"You have no idea."
DeleteA moment of silence passed between them and Lorraine avoided his piercing gaze.
"So," he began again, "how old are you?"
"Oh, I'm sixteen!" Lorraine replied quickly, "my birthday is in a few weeks though. How about you?"
"I'm eighteen. A senior. Are you a junior, still?"
Lorraine nodded. "A senior, woooowww. I bet you're getting excited for graduation."
The boy's potato face began to shake violently back and forth in affirmation. "Being a senior is great, like, I feel like I can just do whatever I want."
"Whatever you want." Lorraine repeated absentmindedly, spotting out of the corner of her eyes a streak of black hair dressed in maroon, her friend Riley making her way around the track in lane three. "I'm sure."
"Yea, I mean, anything" he shuffled his feet for a moment and gazed at Lorraine's face intently, his eyes coming to rest upon her lips, "like this."
Suddenly he grabbed at Lorraine's shoulders and drew himself towards her. Realizing what it was he was attempting to do Lorraine managed a harsh "no!" but it was too late, or he just didn't care.
He planted his puckered lips on hers, then pulled away as the pressure of her hands on his shoulders increased.
She stared at him, her eyes wild and her fists clenched at her sides. Her heart was pounding and she longed to scream one-hundred profane terms at him, but her mind had since shut down and left her speechless
"Sorry," he said without a hint of sincerity, "but, you agreed, it seemed like I could do whatever I wanted."
"Not exactly what I meant." Lorraine growled, using the back of her hand to unceremoniously wipe the remnants of the kiss off her mouth. She turned away from him, folding her arms in front of her on the fence and resting her chin on them.
A million thoughts fought for Lorraine's attention. Should she say something else? Should she slap him? She had always wanted to slap someone...
He reappeared by her side, slipping into her hand a small piece of paper.
"Look me up anytime." He whispered in her ear, and then finally turned to leave.
Lorraine looked about her, searching for someone, anyone in the sea of people who had just seen that happen.
Lorraine looked to her left where just a few feet away stood a friend of hers, Andrew, chatting quietly with a girl from another team.
"Andrew," Lorraine moaned, "did you see that?"
"That guy talking to you? Yea, he was weird wasn't he?"
"He kissed me."
"What?"
"He kissed me."
Andrew's eyes were as big and round as the wheels of a bus and Lorraine was certain hers looked the same.
Andrew looked passed Lorraine for a moment. Cathy was making her way towards them.
"Cathy get over here!" Andrew instructed, waving his arms wildly.
"Why? What's wrong."
Lorraine turned to glare menacingly at Cathy. "You have no idea what you and your little game have caused."
His little eyes crew bigger as he watched the game. He thought to himself, "when I grow up, I want to be like that. I want to be like that boy dunking the basketball. I want to be like the boy making the half court shots. I can't wait to be like all of the boys. I can't wait to be on the team. I can't wait to grow up. "
ReplyDeleteThe time was about midday. The wind was chilling. Me and the rest of the band had just loaded onto the bus to go to the Dutch football field to play a home game. I was excited, not because I got to play but because of what I got to play. It was one of the first times I got to play bass drum. I was on bass one which was the smallest of all the bass drums. We get there and due to the cold it is hard to play the drums. This is because I, along with all the other drummers, seemed to lose the dexterity in our fingers and have to try to play the fast rhythms. The snow now blows down the back of my already uncomfortable band uniform while we begin to play. The "thud, thud, thud" of the bass drums and the snaps and pops of the snare drums and tenors along with the clash and hiss of the cymbals all go together to create the most glorious of cadences I've ever heard.
ReplyDeleteI like the point of view....and the alliteration! Anyone else spot it?
Delete