The Race

I'm crouched down in a pouncing position, like a panther. The grayish blue pebbles in front of me are painted chalky white, and I zone in on the dilapitated line as I wait for the sound, the sound that will forever control my muscles. On one side of me is that sandy-haired kid from Wescott High. On the other is the tall black kid with short-cropped hair from Central Academy. Their muscles are flexed and make me feel like a gelatinous blob of flab, despite my skinny stature. But I don't have time to dwell on this because all of a sudden, the gun goes off, and my legs start moving.

I always start of as fast as possible, to make the others feel insecure about their pace. But as I go, I find myself behind both of the other guys, their legs hairy whirlwinds in their seperate lanes, far ahead of me. I decide to focus on my legs instead, the sculpted thighs and calves moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The rhythm speeds up in tempo, like my limbs go from smooth jazz setting to hard core death metal. I smile to myself as I pass the sandy-haired kid whose purple uniform reads Hannon on the back, in neon green letters.

We round the first curve, but the guy from Central Academy, Reese, according to his bumblebee yellow and black jersey, is still surging ahead, fast as a freaking cheetah. Look at his sculpted frame, his dark and glistening muscles... I have to snap out of it. Nobody knows, and I don't want them to, The locker room would be hell! My parents are conservative! Nobody will know, not even Reese, with his muscles and pure strength.

I'm angry now. I'll never be happy, not even doing this, the one thing I love. Dad always tells me to tune my anger into sports, that it makes you more aggressive. I ignore the ache in my thighs and increase my speed. Into my legs, I push all the anger, all the making out with girls, girls I don't even have feelings for... I bulldoze my body around the second turn.

I'm halfway through. My body is telling me to slow myself. My side is telling me I should have ate. But my mind just shouts for me to speed up, to pass that dude who taunts me with his stature, his hair, his cute butt. My dark hair blows into my face, the mass of myself displacing air and creating false wind. Looking at my spikes, they seem gaudy, lime green and orange. Oh God, I'm already thinking fashion! No, I'm straight. Only straight guys can go...this...fast!

I get neck and neck with Reese as we both round the last curve. We're on the final straight, and I can't go any faster. His legs are longer, so shapely... NO! I push forward, and suddenly I'm crossing another chalky white line, my team cheering and bored family members in the stands thanking God that it's over.

There. Only a straight guy could go that fast.

Now this... was pretty great. Firstly, I just want to say that I enjoyed the way you smoothly unraveled the mind of a guy who was so conflicted in questioning his orientation. The whole thing where you revolved his issues around sports sort of reminded me of this character on Degrassi. Not assuming you even know what I'm talking about, but it's a tv show. I liked how organic and natural this seemed.

I didn't really pick up on what was going on internally until after a few very subtle hints. I think the subtlety is what in the end made the reveal of his true inner conflict so interesting. You had the character under a scene of great pressure --a race. Every emotion and feeling running through his mind and body therefore become heightened by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was truly an an excellent setting. I'm not sure I have very many picky takes on anything of that matter. Or much less anything else involving the way the story quickly yet smoothly unfolded itself before the reader, so great job with that.

I love how you included the thoughts the character has for his parents and the people around him. He's aware no one would be accepting, therefore tries his best to be some one he's not. Allowing himself to be with girls and such when he feels nothing for those types of relationships. Then you went ahead and gave him those natural spurts of awareness to the boys he was competing with. Like he was refusing to allow himself to check them out. Which was both entertaining in an almost humorous way as well as the obvious sad way. He was using the race against the others to prove he was the man. Which to the reader, as they saw he had won in the end despite lying to himself and the person he really was inside, proved that his orientation had nothing at all to do with the way he saw himself and how others saw him. That was probably my absolute favorite part of it all. The closing sentence:

There. Only a straight guy could go that fast.

You wrapped in stereotypes so flawlessly. As if being gay inside he had something to prove. He was still equal to others no matter what. But he felt satisfied with himself for winning and outdoing the other guys. There's just something very touching about it all, I find it difficult to place my finger on any one thought as to what though. So my apologies!

Anyway though, really great job. I'd be glad to see this on the front page of the featured works section. It really does deserve some attention. The writing was overall very smooth and pretty much clear apart from a few minor mispellings and grammatical errors. But if you went back yourself, I'm sure you'd spot what I'm talking about and be able to quickly clean up whatever little errors are lingering around. Keep up the awesome writing!

-Smylin' ^-^

Thanks. And I love Degrassi! Are you talking about Riley?

I have to agree with Smylin here, this was a pretty epic piece.

The one thing I noticed was this:

paintingtherain97 wrote:My side is telling me I should have ate.

I think it should have been 'eaten'.

You have a very good character here and I love the way you gradually built him up throughout the piece. It was a very effective technique, and I haven't come across something this good in a while

SmylinG wrote:I didn't really pick up on what was going on internally until after a few very subtle hints. I think the subtlety is what in the end made the reveal of his true inner conflict so interesting. You had the character under a scene of great pressure --a race. Every emotion and feeling running through his mind and body therefore become heightened by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was truly an an excellent setting. I'm not sure I have very many picky takes on anything of that matter. Or much less anything else involving the way the story quickly yet smoothly unfolded itself before the reader, so great job with that.

I will agree with this also; you had a great way of slowly revealing the truth through the setting. I'm fully in awe. Keep it up!

I'm crouched down in a pouncing position like a panther. The grayish blue pebbles in front of me are painted chalky white and I zone in on the dilapitated line as I wait for the sound#FF0000 ">; the sound that will forever control my muscles. On one side of me is that sandy-haired kid from Wescott High. On the other is the tall#FF0000 ">, black kid with short-cropped hair from Central Academy. Their muscles are flexed and make me feel like a gelatinous blob of flab, despite my skinny stature. But I don't have time to dwell on this because all of a sudden, the gun goes off, and my legs start moving.

Love the description and vividness you use. A lot of this creates anticipation for the reader, wanting to know what happens next.

I always start of as fast as possible, to make the others feel insecure about their pace. But as I go, I find myself behind both of the other guys, their #FF0000 ">hairy legs #FF0000 ">are whirlwinds in their seperate lanes, far ahead of me. I decide to focus on my legs instead, #FF0000 ">my sculpted thighs and calves moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The rhythm speeds up in tempo, my limbs go from smooth jazz setting to hard core death metal. I smile to myself as I pass the sandy-haired kid whose purple uniform reads Hannon on the back in neon green letters.

A back firing plan so early? The nerve! Really caught me off guard here. I either expected MC to win easily or lose easily. It's nice to feel and hear about the focus and concentration the MC used to propel himself forward.

We round the first curve, but the guy from Central Academy, Reese, according to his bumblebee yellow and black jersey, is still surging ahead, fast as a freaking cheetah. Look at his sculpted frame, his dark and glistening muscles... I have to snap out of it. Nobody knows and I don't want them to#FF0000 ">. The locker room would be hell! My parents are conservative! Nobody will know, not even Reese, with his muscles and pure strength.

The last few lines are very confusing until you read the end. But I love how you disguise them in as "random" thoughts rather than something extremely important. Funny, my school colors are black and yellow too.

I'm angry now. I'll never be happy, not even doing this, the one thing I love. Dad always tells me to tune my anger into sports, that it makes you more aggressive. I ignore the ache in my thighs and increase my speed. Into my legs, I push all the anger, all the making out with girls, girls I don't even have feelings for... I bulldoze my body around the second turn.

This is where we hint at the MC's sexuality. We feel for the MC's frustration and how we are pummeled everyday in society.

I'm halfway through. My body is telling me to slow myself. My side is telling me I should have ate. But my mind just shouts for me to speed up, to pass that dude who taunts me with his stature, his hair, his cute butt. My dark hair blows into my face, the mass of myself displacing air and creating false wind. Looking at my spikes, they seem gaudy, lime green and orange. Oh God, I'm already thinking fashion! No, I'm straight. Only straight guys can go...this...fast!

Cute butt. I had to laugh, no offense or anything. But the MC is racing hard, he wants to win badly. All of these destractions are trying to force him off the path he has taken. However we also see the conflict within himself as the race pro-longs.

I get neck and neck with Reese as we both round the last curve. We're on the final straight, and I can't go any faster. His legs are longer, so shapely... NO! I push forward, and suddenly I'm crossing another chalky white line, my team cheering and bored family members in the stands thanking God that it's over.

There. Only a straight guy could go that fast.

Great ending. Triumphant at the end and no one will ever know his secret. Though it's a shame that people have to hide like this. Your message was quite clear though: everyone is alike and being different doesn't make you bad at something.

Terrific work.