Hope this suits, Ruthie. I don't even know why I thought of this at the time.

***

She stands, shivering, but for fear or cold?

She can’t tell, can’t really say.

She doesn’t know why,

But she won’t forget this day.

Suddenly, a crack breaks the silence.

What was it? A gun!

Terror grabs her:

She starts to run.

Her face reddens in effort.

Her hands, clammy and wet,

Clutching for the help

She is not going to get.

Her legs are on fire,

Enveloped in pain,

But instinct to run

Still floods her brain.

All she can hear is slicing blades

And her heart beating fast.

Any opportunity to stop

Has already passed.

Then she trips.

Spinning, falling, twisting.

She cries in pain and anguish

As her eyes start misting.

Her tears flow freely;

It’s all over now.

She’s completely distraught

But wonders “How?”

How can it be it is over so soon?

Everything finished with one trip.

She’s lost her chance to ever win

The Speed Skating Championship.

Author guidance for This exercise

Trawling through my bedroom, I found some work I did as a thirteen-year-old in my school's creative writing club.

It's both terrible and hilarious, and I felt a need to share it with the world, for some obscure reason. Feel free to add your own embarrassing discoveries (that means you, Ciara)!

updated Apr 12 '11 by Miserabilia