Friday, February 7, 2014
He was proud to represent his nation at the first reestablished Olympics. Standing at the starting blocks he admired the sea of humanity that gathered to watch. His event would start the games that demonstrated that mankind was bigger than his hate for himself; that mankind had indeed clawed its way out of the dark days of war and ashes and that civilization would conquer chaos. He had been born long after the Year of Fire and the desolation of the seas. His sport had been reconstructed from pictures and old stories as one of the first Olympic sports.
The starter pistol fired. Clutching the burlap at his waist, he leapt forward in giant bounds, focusing on the goal, ignoring the athletes that fell, legs tangled in their sacks. He jumped ahead knowing they envied his bounding strength and grace. As he hopped near the finish line, he thought to himself, “This race is in the bag!”
Posted for Flash Friday vol2-#9
Update: So honored to receive an honorable mention for this one!