Random Short Stories

They

I set myself on the starting line, slowly getting into position as my nerves accelerate like a racecar. This is my first appearance at any major competition, and I'm scared to death. I can not afford to mess this up, not because of my pride or anything, but because my family and even my boyfriend depend on me. I have to win this for them.

The timer ticks down.

Ten. Deep breath.

Nine. I can do this.

Eight. I have to do this.

Seven. Mom.

Six. Dad.

Five. Margaret.

Four. Oliver.

Three. Deep breath.

Two. Give it my all for them.

One. It's now or never.

The buzzer goes off, and the eight of us shoot from our positions, all of us focused on crossing the finish line.

With every step, the end draws closer and closer. I try to judge where I am in reference to those I'm racing against, but it's hard to tell. My steps don't seem to be behind or ahead of anyone else's. We were chosen for a reason; we're among the best racers that this nation has.

Ten months ago, I raced because I enjoyed it. I would come up with every excuse to be on the track or the street, running my heart out. I loved to feel the wind blowing through my hair, so I never put it in a ponytail. There was nothing more satisfying than hearing my feet pound against the pavement. There was nothing that I would rather do.

But everything suddenly changed. My favorite recreation became a game of life or death. My only chance of ensuring that myself and everyone I love lives, is if I come in first place.

Heart pounding erratically, I drive myself to go faster, motivated by the shadow of the pain I would feel, living life without love.

Automatically, I run through the risks in my head for the millionth time today. What happens if I get anything but first? The person who comes in eighth place will be forced to watch all of their family and friends be murdered before being killed themselves. The person in seventh only hears about it before meeting the same fate. Sixth place might be the worst of all; pick two family members to die, then are also killed. Fifth, tortured and killed in the presence of their family and friends. The runner who places fourth will be killed. In third place, the runner's significant other (or a parent/closest friend) will be killed, but the runner lives. Second place, their family is brutally tortured, but no one is killed. Then first place, no one is harmed.

I have to get first place. I couldn't stand to live with any of the other options. A grimace surfaces as I realize that if I don't place in the top 3, then I won't live at all. And that is not an option.

Although maybe death is the only way to get out of this madness.

Just as the thought completes itself in my mind, I force it out. No. Death isn't an answer in this.

It isn't an answer now or ever.

My shoes pound heavily against the ground, and the sound mixes with seven other pairs, creating a jungle of noise. The audience—the one thing you can usually count on to be loud—is deathly quiet, reminding me yet again that this is not a normal race. Even still, I barely register it; my top priority is to win this race.

I have to win this race.

As I run, my mind flutters back to the day everything changed. Oliver and I were out bicycling around our large city when he spotted something in the sky. It didn't take long for us to realize that it was a UFO. Of course, the ships are now easily identifiable by anyone on earth, but no one had ever seen anything like it at that time.