Kendle was a human arrow when the starter's gun shattered the expectant silence. His feet pounded as he raced down the guide wire that allowed him to run in the first place. The wind whistled pleasantly behind his ears as he ran. His goal? The single piece of rolled tape that would mark the end of the 60 meter dash. His Purpose? To beat the kid from Ohio who had successfully beaten him every year since he had begun participating in his school's track team. The Indiana School for the Blind and Visually Impaired was his school, and he had been practicing his sport for four years now. He had been blind for three of those four years. He was a sophomore, and since this would be his last year in Track and Field because of his grades and his parents' wish for him to drop an activity, he wanted to make this worth his while.
He heard the pounding feet behind him. Craig, he knew,was gaining on him. From the wayCraig ran, it sounded like he had been in this a year longer, this made Kendle a little nervous, but he didn't let it affect his performance. He would be no less than his best, this afternoon, no less…
Kendle's breathing was slow and even. In, one stride, two strides. Out, one stride, two strides. He was an excellent sprinter, he knew, but he was a better distance runner. His feet were now making very little noise in his sokony runners, and he smiled inwardly. Let Craig think he had the race.
Then he heard them, the feet were keeping pace with his, Kendle wasn't about to tie this thing, not on his life! He knew that if he didn't win this, his coach would be extremely pissed. Not only at Kendle's lack of placing first, but also that Ohio would win the Conference, again.
Craig put on an extra burst of speed and passed Kendle.
Kendel put on an even more wreckless burst and screamed by Craig, only to skid to a stop seconds later at the tape rold around the guide wire marking the end of the race.
Craig came in behind him, and both he and Kendle heard the beeping of stopwatches. Both he and Kendle waited, waited, and interminably, waited.
"And Kendle from ISBVI takes first place in his heat!"
Kendle heard Craig curse, not altogether a bad sound. Kendle thought he heard a note of respect in the cursing, though, which pleased him, but then he was too busy crying to notice much of anything else. He cried, letting out mixed emotions of effort, joy and grief. Mr. Farley came to collect him, then. Mr. Farley was the best coach ever, Kendle thought with pleased detachment,even if he wasn't in Track anymore, he would always remember his coach. He now Knew he could leave the sport in the hands of those who would succeed him, holding nothing but joy in the departure.
I'm quite proud of this one, too. I never realized truly how good my descriptive powers were until I reread this story. It blew me away how well I could seriously describe something. OK, so it's taken from experience, but still...I found out that I may not need nearly as much help describing something as I thought I did. Now on to
Phoenix At Coark
Brendin Quin was a singer as well as a truly exquisite piper. He poured all he had into his music. Tonight would be no different, he knew, even though he was back home in Coark, and Kendle McKensey sat somewhere in the crowd. He had managed to convince the little man's parents, as had the little man himself, that a week in Ireland with no homework whatever would be a good thing for him. The parents had heved and sighed like accordion bellows, but had finally agreed to let him come. Now it was Brendin's turn to make sure that the little man wasn't disappointed. Brendin took a deep, steadying breath, and began:
"By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young girl calling…"
Kendle sucked in a breath at the chills that began at his head and didn't stop until they reached his feet. rumors were fact. Brendin didn't just sing…he really sang! He sang from his gut, from his heart, from his soul. Kendle felt the emotions in the song as if they were his. He truly knew what it ment to climb into music that night. He was Mary, he was Michael. He felt her sadness, his pride, her longing. Brendin's piping at the beginning, in the middle and at the end had tears swimming in Kendle's eyes. Brendin's resonant baritone, with its soaring fluidity, turned "Fields of Athenry" into a stirring, heart wrenching musical feast. He felt as if he had been givin a new and wonderful gift. It sounded so much like what he imagined a phoenix would sound like that he began to cry. He didn't care if Brendin saw him. The "male angel" that someone said he was didn't do his voice justice. It went beyond Brendin's being half scott, and that some of the words had that quality to them that only Brendin had. That made it all the better. Kendle knew he could never again hear that song the same way. No one else could rivle his friend's performance. No one else could tel him that this or that singer could sing "Athenry." None would do it the justice Brendin had just done it.
Brendin watched Kendle as he performed and saw the first tear slide down the little man's cheek. His heart lept. He had done it. Brendin could see it in the eyes. Perhaps they couldn't see the world physically, but they could see it through the heart, through the spirit. He knew when kendle completely let go and didn't care who was watching him. Brendin knew that this song would never be the same for his little friend, that no one would ever again be able to tell him that someone could sing "Fields of Athenry." Brendin ended his performance letting the last note die away as if the singer were moving off into the distance.
He left the stage, leaving room for the next performer, and went to sit by the still weeping Kendle.
I am extremely excited about this story because this is the colmination of two of my characters in to one. This was something I so wanted to do, and it took me about five or six tries to get it done right. And since I dearly love "Fields of Athenry," I was thrilled to be able to tie this in...it was just fucking fabulous. I even had fun doing it, even though it took me several days to finally write it, and when I did, it took all of an hour. Dear gods! I fucking loooove writing!!! It's energizing. I was tired before I started, but now charged with this and a cup of coffee, I'm not anymore. Just OMG, yayayay!!!
Oh and welcome to the nemw ember. *smiles* be ready for pparatisism. I go in spirts here. Stick around, though and you'll see a side of me that you don't see anywhere else.