Waiting

• Erin Sutton
• Short Story
• 2011

Waiting is the worst kind of torture known to mankind, the waiting for something that you know is going to happen like it or not. Waiting to be called up. Waiting to start, waiting for it to be over. Waiting can go on for what seems like forever. There is no end to the waiting.
I watch another group of girls take off, it seems to be over almost instantly, but for me the waiting goes on. There are a few dozen girls ahead of me, gladly doing what must be done. I slowly creep forward, a few minutes at a time, waiting to go. There is distant cheering coming from all directions, not helping as intended, I feel like I will be sick, butterflies dance around my body, not wanting to calm down, to breathe easy. This goes on forever there is no stop to it. I eagerly and slowly make my way forward. There are only a few girls ahead of me now, I can see the journey ahead of me, it seems a short distance but I know the road stretchers forever. Finally I stand up the waiting almost over, I feel sorry for the girls behind me who must keep waiting. An older man walks in front of my group, three are missing. He continues to look at us, as if to see the fear that runs in our veins. He seems satisfied, and yells out the same instructions that have been nailed into us over the past month. Another man on the side of the road waits for the signal, I can see the stress and fear in the eyes of my group, all of them waiting. I see a white flag left into the damp air. The man on the side yells for us to ‘take your marks’ I drop down, one knee on the ground the other bent behind it, my hands shaped like mouse holes. He checks to make sure we are ready, beside me a girl falls; we have to wait for her to get back up. ‘Get set’ I left my whole body into the air, blood rushes to my head, my heart thumping as if it has never thumped before. Finally the sound I have been waiting for rings though our ears, the sound of the gun going off, I take off I little behind everyone else, I run as hard and as fast as I can. The road that looked so short a few moments ago goes on forever there is no stop to it, I find strength in myself that I need to finish this journey. I shot over the finish line; I find my way over to the score table. I look back to the road I had just run , at the other end another set of girls lined up to start each one looking scared of what’s to come.
Some people say the running is the worst or the thought of coming dead last, for some it’s the way the adults force it on us, but for me it’s the waiting.