Post by JONAH NIKOLAI PARKER on Jan 10, 2014 2:24:40 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, padding: 15 15 15 15px; background-image: url(http://i675.photobucket.com/albums/vv115/zloreceile/Patterns/COLOURloverscom-Manly-Man_Stripe.png?t=1324421742); background-repeat:repeat-xy; width: 375px;] [style= width: 360px; height: 10px; background-color: 330600; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 2px; padding-right: 2px;] [/style][style=width: 360px; height: 200px; background-image: url(http://i840.photobucket.com/albums/zz325/Okegan/RyanDonowho.png); background-color: transparent; border: #330600 solid 2px;] [/style][style=width: 360px; height: 40; background-color: 330600; padding-top: 1px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 2px; padding-right: 2px; text-align: center; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999; line-height: 1; text-shadow: #222 2px 2px 2px;]There's no need for alarms; The day has begun when your eyes meet the sun. We don't need any roads; Put your feet on the ground and forget what you know. [/style][style=overflow: auto; align: center; width: 365px; height: 300px; background-color: 999999; opacity: 1; text-align: justify; color: 330600; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; overflow: #9E9180 solid 2px;] Sunlight fell across the cracked running track. The lines were faded and the chilly air seemed to keep the track empty. A lone figure stood on the centre lane. He wore dark jeans and a sweater. A black peacoat, undone, was draped over him, shielding him from the work. With his hands tucked into his pockets he stared down the track. Once upon a time he ran on a track like this. Cheers erupted across the crowd as racers crossed the finish line. The bright Spring sun glared down on the contestants. Heat rolled in waves, washing over the swarms of people. Along the outskirts, ice cream and slushie trucks were making a killing; everyone wanted to keep cool. None wanted to keep cool more than those approaching the starting line. A tall, slender boy was among them. His track shorts swished around his knees as he stepped forward. If he won this he would qualify for the nationals. He would be boosted from scrawny nobody to popular kid. He had to win. He crouched at the line, matching the form of the other runners. A stiff breeze swept across the field offering a momentary comfort to the viewers. BANG! The starting pistol went off. The boy pushed his weight into his legs and sprang forward. His shoe slipped for a moment but he regained his footing. The roar of the crowd was replaced by the blood pumping in his ears. The track was solid under his feet. Each step taking him closer to the other runners. Soon he had caught up to them. They passed from his vision. A burning sensation flashed into his calves. He ground his teeth against the pain and pushed himself harder. He had to keep on going. It was his first time doing the 800 metre. He hadn't even practiced it. He could hear someone's footsteps pounding behind him. They were close. Too close. He needed to get this. The finish line was before him. He could see the other runner in his peripheral vision. He forced himself harder. He knew he passed the line first. A camera shot proved it. He was going to Nationals. But he never did go to Nationals. He never ran again. Now, staring down the track, he could hear the crowds again. He could hear the yelling; the cheering. His heart thumped in his chest. Jonah put his hand up to his face, wiping it across like he could wipe the memories from his mind. But he never could. [/style][style= width: 365px; height: 20px; background-color: 330600; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 8px; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;] (c) to Zlorecile of caution aka Bellatrix of WA [/style] |