It’s my final year of high school, I should be applying to colleges, and thinking about what I want to do with my life. But my mind is occupied with only one thought. And that thought is, the track team.
If you asked my friends and classmates who is the best athlete on the track team, know that they’ll say my name. If you doubt me, well look at the newspaper and you’ll see my name. If you turn on the radio, you’ll hear my name. Go turn on the television, and you’ll see me featured on the screen.
In Korea, everyone’s priorities are typically to get the highest score on every little thing you did in class and get into that dream college of yours. Unfortunately, my dream was to be the best athlete on the track team. Well, to my parents, that was unfortunate. Anywho, I was succeeding at that dream of mine.
I would wake up and get out of bed, just to find myself not sitting in class, but running on the track field. I would train each day. Then at my track meets, I would place and I felt very relieved and proud.
But as soon as I felt a little discomfort in my knees, I got that feeling that my career would soon come to an end. And what any parent would tell their kid, is to stop and take it easy. Even if my parents did say that, I could not care. This was my identity, being an athlete was my identity. So I continued to focus on my sport and give my everything into every practice and meet I attended.
But sooner or later, the day was going to come, the day where I would have to give up my sport. And when that day came, I couldn’t run anymore. Well, the truth is, I could run. Of course I could do something as simple as running. But there was absolutely no possible chance that I could go back to the level I was at. I couldn’t run as fast. And it was all because of my knees. And during the school days at lunch, I would head over to the track field. I’d get myself into the starting position and time myself to see what my fastest time was to finish one lap. But I couldn’t even get past halfway of one lap. I stopped the stopwatch and carefully walked to the “finish line.” I then walked into my next class and couldn’t get my mind to comprehend what just happened. But no matter how much I could comprehend, it wouldn’t change anything. And I knew it was time to move on and focus more on my classes.
The cabin
The darkness is complete. No chink of light under the door, no golden glow emanating from the key-hole. Just an absence of light, of colour, of objects. The air is heavy with carbon dioxide and thick with the sour smell of sweat. The ship bucks and rolls on the short, violent waves of the North Sea, lurching in one direction and then another, but never still.
In the aft, the engine growls rhythmically, spreading it's vibrations and the smell of diesel like spiderwebs - all the way to the bow.
Two bodies lie in the cabin - entombed by the darkness, buried in the bowls of the ship, below the waterline. One is snoring, her raspy breaths barely audible above the snarl of the engine. The other shifts uncomfortably on the lumpy foam mattress, her brow beaded in sweat, trying not to drown in the waves of nausea. She squeezes her bloodshot eyes shut and tries to succumb to the rough lullaby, sung by the sea, the wind, the engine...
On deck, the gaffe sails are pulled taut by the wind - and the masts groan under the constant tug and release of pressure. The crew are huddled around the helm as the icy fingers of the gale tug at their jackets and scarves. Some gulp hot, black coffee, enjoying the acrid burn as it slides down their throats and warms their bellies.
To the west - the sky is inky black and pocked with shining stars. At water level, artificial lights bob up and down on the waves, attached to their respective ships and gas rigs. To the east, the sun is shyly making an appearance on the horizon - a pink and golden glow creeping ever upwards and outwards.
The first mate peers into the dusky distance, searching for the next channel marker - red or green. Waiting for her eyes to focus, she spots the blinking marker and adjusts the helm slightly to port to keep on course.
It's foul weather to be out in - and even with the engine cranked to full, the ship is barely making way in the headwind. She's been moving at a little over a knot for the past few hours. The first mate looks at the shadowy faces of the crew - pinched from the cold, dispirited by the hostility of the North Sea.
She hopes that dawn will bring longer waves and fairer winds, but she knows better than most that they will be at the mercy of whatever weather the new day brings.
impossible whirling dervish
spinning twirling ruminating
a cordless drill to the temple
swirling out swiveling spirals
first white splintered skull bits
the brain matter twisted bowels
constipated with stale hard shit
need a rota rooter snake
mental edema squirted
in and squeezed zit like
pop push fingernail hard
to get it out
get it all out
I'm too full
self-rejection
can't shake it
judder jiggle
quiver quake
waggle wobble
if I'm worth nothing to you
no market value no benefit
no resale on Craig's List eBay
Goodwill won't take me on
perhaps a full Elaxed brain
emptied of a lifetime of dung
might be landfilled for flies
to hatch maggots new live
wriggling reaching up out
spinning twirling ruminating
impossible whirling dervishes
Vignette Life
Hey dude. I felt kind of bad that this prompt had zero entries so I guess I'm going to enter.
I'm also procrastinating right now so, yeah.
What is a Vignette anyway? Sorry, I'm really dumb. Let me search it up. Hold on.
Got it!
A'ight, I don't have a story so I think I'm just going to have to wing this one.
Ready?
No?
I don't care I'm going for it anyway.
"The long corridor seemed to stretch forever, the squeaky linoleum floors zapped bright yellow images into my retinas. I stood with my back pressed to my locker, feeling the grates dig sharply into my back as seventy-three high-school students barreled my way, jostling and jockeying for a position in the turbulent crowd. As for me. I just tried not to get trampled and killed. I watch as a paper airplane made of a scribbled-on worksheet soars over the crowd and friends shove each other. What idiots."