Victory

• Jacob Kudilil, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2018

Max lay still in the dressing room, contemplating his previous experiences. A small tear droplet rolled down his sunburnt cheek. The memories he had from his childhood lingered at the top of his abused brain. A feeling of despair washed away. He had no time for this, after all, he was in a race.
As the announcer called out his name, Max stepped out of the dressing room and stepped foot inside the ground. The spectators looked like a sea of colours as they began cheering Max on. He walked like a nervous wreck to his lane, his arms and legs aching a little.
Max was trembling like never before. His hands alone could produce enough sweat to fill an entire swimming pool. He stood strong, not showing fear as the other contenders walked on in. He glanced side to side; he could just make out his parents and coach, the people who got him where he is today.
Max could remember the countless hours spent at the park, training to make himself that much faster that much stronger that much better. The lush green grass would tickle his ankle as he ran through. He could clearly remember his parents spending valuable money, just to find the perfect sprinting coach. His parents were simply afraid that he would be mocked and teased if he joined an athletics club. He also recalled the time when he would run to school in the winter, which was ideal for being fit. He also remembered one dreaded event, the accident that changed his entire life.
The boy had no time for this, after all this was a very important day.
All of the others looked stoic and twice as more confident than himself. They were all in position, waiting eagerly for the signal.
“3,2,1 GO!”
They were off!
“Come on come on” pondered Max himself. This was probably the best chance after all this doesn’t happen every year. Max continued to self-motivate himself. The race seemed like it was going on forever, the red track stretched as far as the eye could see. Max was behind – by a considerable margin. “This is your chance, to prove to all those wretched bullies that you are a person who wants achieve their goals!” Max pushed on, every single strive gaining more and more distance. He quickly gained all the way to second. With a grim face of determination, Max continued sprinting. Self-motivating himself again and again. Everything was a blur, the finish line was closer and closer he sprinted and sprinted, he was now neck and neck, both had their eyes on the prize. Frantically, both pushed their torso in front. Miraculously, the other racer fumbled and Max had won by only a few centimeters.
He had done it! He could tell all those bullies that he, with two prosthetic legs, won the 3016 Paralympics. He could finally prove that he was capable of, doing anything - even if it meant being in two metal legs.