Okay, my sister had to write a creative short story for english, and she asked me to write it for her. You had to describe someone you knew as best you could, using an everyday scene as the backdrop, main plotline. We both play hock, and yet she thought that it was a bad idea... as soon as she started reading she was priasing it, and thinking of using it herself.
I made her swear not to use it... but who can be sure?
MY AWESOME SISTER!
Rain pelted my face as I returned my gaze to the ball, rolling idly along the turf until another swift movement of my stick encouraged it in the desired direction. I blinked as it passed briefly over the white, slightly curved line. A deep sigh breached my throat as I looked up. Through the dark refractions of the rain I could see my goal - the goal. It wasn’t the sight of achievement that brought the heaving to my lungs; it was the character guarding it. Standing tall and wide, she obstructed my view more than the determined haze of the stormy weather.
The net was almost completely hidden by the obstructing form; the barricade of thick foam padding that surrounded my vigilant sibling presented no where to shoot, no where to score. A lump rose in my throat as I realized that my attempts were futile; my sisters imposing attitude was shown on the hockey turf more than anywhere else.
But I had an entire team behind me, expecting better than 'giving up' – all that stood between me and victory was my boisterous, bothersome sister. I could see it now, the ball getting caught in the net; not even my audacious and daring sibling could stop the white ball with the speed and force I could bestow upon it.
My heart pumped in my chest, threatening to break a rib as my moment draws closer. I could feel the blood as it surged through my body, hammering in my ears and making my fingers tingle.
Looking back down at the ball now, I change my grip into short hand – the best for taking hits on the run. One last glance up and then I’ll hit the ball, no matter where the goalie is, I decide - she can’t stop everything.
Before I know it, she is upon me. She has left her post to show her intimidating presence on the field. Don’t panic! I tell myself – that’s what she wants.
Despite my internal warning, I feel the cold lingering of the despised sensation, flooding through me faster than the adrenaline-rich blood that pumps my veins.
NOW! Hit that ball now! My senses scream at me. Ten years of playing hockey and my younger sister still scares me silly. Before I have time to draw my stick back, or even start a left-to-right drag, she appears at my feet, her entire height was a barricade against my progress as she lay on the ground. Shocked, I jump over her body, forcing myself not to trip over the tangle of foam and fabric that made up her protective gear. The ball comes to an immediate stop as it hits her padded body. I slowly turn around – slinking to the back of the queue.
“Hard luck. Come on, keep trying” I hear a call from behind me. I shoot a quick look behind me to find her already back in the goal, dancing around on her toes like a kid in a bouncy castle. Always the good sport – even in a practice.
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