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Make a race an important element of your story.

Posted in Narrative on Jan 26, 2024

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✍️ 44 stories

Hopeless Aid Station

Submitted to Contest #235

The thing about going the distance is that it is non-negotiable; you must take every miserable, unrelenting step on your own steam—like it or not. David had his hands on his knees, dry heaving, at the foot of the highest mountain pass in the Colorado Rockies. Dry heaving was nothing new. He could handle dry heaving all day long. David’s Garmin Sportswatch displayed the elevation: 9,983 ft. 2,617 feet to the top. The saddle was 12,600 feet. Should take about an hour and a half, he thought. If he didn’t collapse first.As his stomach eased, Dav...

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In or Out

Submitted to Contest #235

Later that month, Harris Darrow would reflect that it was a turning point in his life, the key to a door he hadn’t realized he’d been looking for, a treatment, if not quite a cure, for the vague malaise that had been following him like a shadow since birth, but at the time he thought it was the end of the world when he got mugged. His date stood him up at the Gargantua Club, in Lowtown. Not his usual haunt. Not his usual neighbourhood. The vibe of the cracked bricks and littered streets, in the concrete shadow of the freeway above, didn’t me...

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And the Gold Medal goes to the Queen of diplomacy.

Submitted to Contest #235

Clara wasn’t sure how it happened but each morning, without fail, she would wake a few seconds before her seven-year-old came bolting into her room. ‘The Usain Bolt of seven-year-olds’, as she and her hubby Toby referred to Elliott. It was almost as if she had an inner alarm clock calling out ‘brace brace’ before impact. As this happened, she always remembered the supportive and reassuring words of her colleague, Kelly, before she helped her into a taxi ahead of her maternity leave. 'You'll never sleep properly again love, you're fucked...

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Currere Stadio

Submitted to Contest #235

CURRERE STADIOWalking through an antique store, I came across a section devoted entirely to old photos.Some were in ornate, gilded frames made of wood and plaster. Others were in desktop or easel frames; the size and shape of the photos was as varied as the frames. Round, square, oblong, rectangular; the standard sizes of eight by ten and five by seven were reserved for the more “recent” photos – those taken within the last seventy-plus years.But what grabbed my attention were the bins and boxes full of loose photos. They were...

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One baby chicken for two

Submitted to Contest #235

Every couple has things they hate to do; they grumble and winge but inevitably get on with the task at hand. Anna hated to cook roast chicken but Max loved it when she did; so naturally she did it at least once a week. There was always so much sinewy mess at the end that just seemed to linger; the fat, the stocky smell of salt. He said it felt like home, she thought it felt stifling.They both worked hard every day, allowing the other space to prioritise their careers like good modern millennials. Deep down, he felt the publishing house was a...

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On The Shoulders Of The Wise

Submitted to Contest #235

Ladies and gentlemen, my weary disposition welcomes you to the main event of this dreary morning commute to the city titled, The Waterloo Station Java Sweepstakes! As we approach our final destination, everyone is up on their feet, crowding the train’s sliding doors in anticipation of a packed surge of bodies eagerly jockeying for position before collectively spilling out onto Platform Nine. And… We’re off! The train doors have made way for the jumpers, leapers, and pushers descending onto the concrete walkway, keen to gain an advantage ov...

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Turtle Soup

Submitted to Contest #235

There once was a turtle whose name was Marcel Monroe. He had lived a modest life, all while carrying his house on his back. One morning, a boy discovered his shell and peeked inside. Marcel invited him in for a cup of hot cocoa. “Will you tell me a story, Marcel?” asked the boy. “Once,” he began, “I was in a race.” “But I thought turtles were slow.” Marcel puffed thoughtfully on his pipe, before he replied. “If you measure a race by the time it takes to get from one point to another then yes – indeed – we are slow.” The boy’s brow furr...

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A Chinaman's Chance

Submitted to Contest #235

“I timed the movement twice and found the speed as follows: The first time 240 feet of rail was laid in one minute and twenty seconds; the second time 240 feet was laid in one minute and fifteen seconds.” —San Francisco news reporter for the Daily Alta California Sunlight creeps over the mountains of Utah and spills across the ground. A train huffs along a track. The orange-red dawn fingers the ink-black metal of the engine and catches the steam and smoke rising from it. The engine wheezes to a halt not far from the end of the...

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Heart Run

Submitted to Contest #235

The story I’m about to tell you is absolutely true, nearly every word.  In 2002, I suffered my first myocardial Infarction or what most people refer to as a heart attack.  I was only 47 at the time.  Six months later, I entered the 5K Heart Run.  I know most of you might say it was nothing more than a fast jog, but for me I was running hard for my life… It was late spring and runners from around the local area had gathered at the parking lot in front of the University of Alaska Anchorage Administration Building for the...

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Please Don’t Hit the Wall

Submitted to Contest #235

Please Don’t Hit the Wall… By Kimberly LaBonte Man come on, come on ….dig deep flip the switch. I kept waiting for the streets to thin out, but not a chance. All that keeps going through my mind is don’t slip and fall on those Dixie cups at the aid station.  The air is still crisp,and I can see my breath. I take out another piece of Eclipse gum. It has always been my “lucky” gum and it is always the spearmint flavor. Runners, or at least myself in particular can be a bit superstitious. I always wear the same black shorts, white tank...

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A Race for the Ages

Submitted to Contest #235

The Hare pushed his way through the crowd, glad-handing the gentlemen, signing autographs, and availing himself of his handsomeness for selfies with the ladies; reassuring all and sundry with an excess of caffeinated wakefulness that this time he would prevail in the race. He punched the air theatrically, and the crowd cheered with effervescent joy, confident in a crushing victory for the famed speedster, not to mention – for a few – a modest return on their wagers with the bookmaker. The Hare was the crowd favorite.As for the Tortoise,...

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Endless Summer

Submitted to Contest #235

ENDLESS SUMMER by Don McCann “So, you think you’ll make it this time?” Frankie gave Curtis a serious look. “Yeah. I do.” “No, you won’t,” scoffed Louise. “You say the same thing every time, but you haven’t yet.” “Sure, he can make it,” Bill butted in, smirking, “if he takes a skidder.” “I can make it,” Frankie replied evenly. “I’ve been practicing.” “Practice all you want,” Louise told him. “There’s just no way. The farthest you’ve ever gotten was the pier.” “Yeah,” Curtis added. “And that was two years ago. Before that, you didn’t eve...

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State

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

A gunshot crackles through the air. You flinch. A wisp of smoke rises across the field. A blur of bodies bursts away from the gunman. Arms and legs swing furiously. You anxiously shift your weight back and forth. Your foot begins to shake. Breathe. The mass of sprinting bodies curves and hurtles towards you. You stare at the white tape on the ground in front of you.  If you start too early or too late, you’ll never recover. Wait. The screaming and yelling swells. Wait. Your hearts pounding, your fight-or-flight instincts scream for rele...

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One Can Only Hope

Submitted to Contest #235

One Can Only Hope They thundered down the final straight. The crowd leapt to their feet, clamouring to see the finish. The horses, their gleaming coats dripping white foam, nostrils flared. Jockeys in brightly coloured silks waved their whips in a flurry. Louder… Faster… The grandstand erupted in unison as they flashed past the post in a blur of colours, horses and whips. Then it was over. The young strapper, buzzing with adrenaline, retrieved the winner. The filly shied away, startled by her excess energy. By her side, Suzanne Smith, ...

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The Postpartum Run

Submitted to Contest #235

February 20th, 2020 On the day of the C-section, a part of me was scared and dreading what was to come next. My whole body had become alien at this point, things stretched to a point that I feared I would not be whole again. But today was the day I would be free. Year Before - June 1st, 2019 “I am almost done, coming home” I texted my husband, “just one more mile to finish my 8 miles for today” I was proud. The next day brought me a surprise, I was expecting. One part of me was happy and the other part preparing for a long mental marathon....

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