Rutvi: Writing contest

Sorry I haven’t given much info on this contest-I am just participating. To see more visit sosugarsweet.

Prompt: Countdown beginner

Team: Gazelle

The Rising Racer

10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1.

The race had begun. And just as quickly as the gates went down so did my chances of winning. I wouldn’t win at this rate. I wondered my father always made me ride this horse. This horse was still very young. No matter how hard I trained I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t win.

We were in dead last, and the favorite was in the favorite spot: right on the rail.   horse racing was hard. I whipped my horse, it didn’t hurt him, it just told him to go faster. Nyquist, my horse, didn’t go faster. The bell rang and the race was over. The half mile hadn’t taken so long, but the day did.

As always, I was reprimanded by my parents. I told them I’d tried, but they didn’t believe me. No one did. At my eleven years who did?

10 YEARS LATER

I mounted. Nyquist, now a large horse, whinnied. He had gotten much better since my previous races.  He was even the favorite. For the Kentucky Derby. Yep, we hadn’t lost. We were undefeated, and had gone so far since my hometown races.

I waited in anticipation for the gunshot. Then it came, and the gates were gone. And so were Nyquist’s feet-well, at least it seemed like that. I opened my mouth to cheer…and got a mouthful of dirt and dust. We were in the favorite spot, and the other horses were eating our dust. We passed the half mile mark, and we were well ahead. We were winning.

My mother and father looked silly in the big hats, as they congratulated me. I had won. And best of all: I was believed in.

 

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