For the Record

hundred metre | short story

the track beneath him calls his name,
Little murmurs masked underneath the terra-cotta lining.

And he responds, lurching forward.

It feels good.

As his feet thump against the ground in rhythm to his pounding heartbeat,
the air explores his lungs.

He lets the air encapsulate him,
but not defeat.

Never defeat.

He sprints towards his competitor, jealously itching at the modesty within him.

The acid burns through his legs, but not now. Not when the medal is right within his reach.

His competition breezes past him,
his footsteps muffling away.

Panic rises in his chest, and the beads of sweat on his forehead multiply.

No. Coach taught him to remain calm. Calamity was the key to success. Anyone would know that. He had to know better.

Despite the pain clumping up the muscles in his legs, he musters some courage and speeds up.

A numbing sensation takes over and soon enough, his legs give out on him.

He collapses right on the track.

Coach runs towards him, anger dotting his face. And although at that moment, blood was gushing out of his skull, staining the once beautiful track that had nurtured him,

the missed ribbon at the end of the finish line haunted him forever.

A/N  so, what did you guys think? i know i haven't been active for a while, in terms of updating this book or Slippery Hearts, but hopefully if i have the motivation, then a new chapter might be up in a couple of days. i mean, it really depends. #nopromises

thank you so much for reading, and uh, bye i guess.