Arts and Sciences : Fiction

The Final Swing

'Cold'.

'Cold' was the first thought that went through Darium's mind.

'Cold', with 'wet' a close second. She had been walking only a few minutes but the chill had already penetrated her bones. The rain blew sideways, from all directions, trying to keep her back yet pushing her forward. Her face and body being pelted with small droplets of agony. Not a hard rain at all, but the mist and the cold attacked the body worse than any downpour.

'Walking'.

'Walking' for an eternity it seemed.

'Walking' all alone among the crowd. Uphill, downhill, it did not matter. Each step took more energy than the last. Finally she reached her destination. She gathered all her strength and all her emotion and capped it into an invisible bottle. She felt nothing. Not the cold, not the rain, not the antcipation of what was about to happen.

With a quick swing it was over. It was a sharp hit, dead on. Everyone watched in silence. It seemed to fall in slow motion. Then her body fell to the ground, limp. Hours had gone by, all for this single moment. The crowd stared in amazement with both sobbing and cheers.

Darium had made the birdie and won the match.

Falling Fire Arts and Sciences