Mafia Slashy Goodness (WIP)

            My clothed toes pushed off against the specially-made rubber track. My knee strained against the sudden workload. And in the hackneyed phrase of old, “I was off.”

            The wind whipped through the strands of hair escaping from my ponytail, and swished the gathered hair behind me like a banner, triumphantly declaring my impending victory to those slowpokes lagging behind. Like that eponymous Pokemon! Ha,I just betrayed my age.

            Yes, I am one of the irreverent members of Generation Y, so new that we had to write it into the charts and diagrams on our class notes. Those old baby boomers should worship us; we’ll be the ones who end up paying their retirements.

            But anyways, let’s get off that sad topic (for now). I was one with the wind, as those old dudes say. It was a glorious feeling, to be running at and even beyond my highest capabilities, the wind’s grasping fingers trying and failing to hold me back. My heart raced, and my lags cried out from the exertion, but I kept going. This was the moment that made it all worthwhile, this was why I labored my way through practice under sun and rain. This was why I put up with that bastard that thinks he’s such hot stuff, and thinks he can give us pointers. This moment, this feeling, was what made life worth living.

            The finish line was in sight. With every breath I was closer to my goal. That simple little line painted onto dyed recycled tires. I hope they cleaned them good before they shredded the old things up. But gross though the thought may be, to be touching old tires, they nevertheless did give darn good traction. Beats running on grass any day. Especially when it’s cold and wet and the ground is squishy and muddy and all-around disgusting. I never did get the physics behind it, but rubber’s got a good coefficient of friction; I think that’s what it’s called anyways.

            And with one last exertion, it was over.

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            “Congratulations, Beniamino. I heard that you won your track meet.”

            “Yes, father, I did. Now if you will excuse me, I have homework to do.” This might seem overly stiff to you, but my father and I have been on the best of terms. Might have something to do with my childhood; but that’s a story for another time.

            “Yes, go do that.”

            So the son went up to his room and did his homework. Yeah, not what you would have thought, right? Well, I wasn’t exactly a bad boy; I’m really quite nice, in a boy-next-door type of way. I was the biddable son that he wanted, and in return, i got to stay his heir and have nice things. What can I say, money talks, and an orphan isn’t really in any position to refuse it. 

 

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So, anyone liking it so far? I have a loose structure, but I write better when I have little pre-plotted out.