Race Day

• Sarah-Anne Groninger, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2017

Lucky woke up shivering from a nightmare. Well then again, waking up was just as bad as sleeping, because today was race day. He could tell without looking at the other quivering greyhounds. He didn't even have to listen to the yells of people. Things like this, you just know.
Then the sounds changed abruptly. Heavy footsteps sloshed through the mud. One of the men grabbed a gate, wrenching it open with powerful hands, creating a spine rattling screech that bit at Lucky’s ears. Another headed straight towards his undersized kennel.
He had realised a second before it happened that it was his tum in the yard. Before that he hadn't expected it, so now it came as a shock,
But now he realised that it was foolish not to have known.
Because he had come last in the race before, if he didn't pull at least a 3rd in this one he would face the grisly consequence, in this case, if he was lucky, he might get a bullet to the head ... in other cases, say if -he was unlucky and the men were tired ... then maybe it wouldn't be quick. The man had reached his cage, with an evil grin across his rather ugly face. If this is the last face I see, then I'm disappointed!
He thought savagely. Then he felt the wire tighten around his neck and a pull told him it was time to get moving.
They stumbled into the rain and down the path which was covered in mud. They had reached the starting gates, it was easy to tell because of the roar from the crowd.
He stepped into the kennel. .. BANG!!! The gates opened and Lucky bounded into the mud. He was aware of another being beside him, daring a glance, he turned his head toward it. That was a mistake.
His paws slipped and he fell face forwards into the muck. That was the last then he was ever aware of apart from a rush of colour.