Goal

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Sports  |  House: Booksie Classic
Mira learns not to limits herself, even if her injury is limiting her from her passions.

Submitted: December 16, 2014

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Submitted: December 16, 2014

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I am alone. 

One girl. No, player.

Alone on a field. But not just any field. 

My field. My battlefield. 

Where I am no longer a girl the minute I step on it, but a player.

A player who doesn't get shoved around by anyone else. 

Who fights for something worth fighting for.

My eyes are locked on the net. My fists are clenched. My cleats are glued to the ground; I can feel the grass crunch under their compression. They dig into the rough, dry earth and dust releases from the gaps. I move my feet side to side, enhancing my grip on the field.

I look down, gathering all of my power. I know the soccer ball is in front of me. A few feet away. It's calling me. Calling to me. 

With my full force, I push off, releasing my hold on the mud and flying freely. Colors radiate from my face and emotions bloom like flowers. My fists transform from the clenching and have become flowing and outspread. 

Adrenaline builds. My mind races like never before. With each step I took, my destination became more and more clear. Until I could see through the fog. And reach my goal. 

I am now within a few inches. While running, I wait for the perfect moment. The moment, this moment. It's mine. All mine.

I take a small hop, initiating the force that I bottled up within my small, petite body. I find my cue.

I take one hop with my left foot, hovering just above the ground. And while in the air, I move ever so fast, my right leg. When my left foot reaches the tarnished grassy area, my right swings with power and passion. It moves like a club for golf. My signature move. 

Then the sensation hits. The inside of my right foot hits the ball and it flies. All of my power and effort is transferred into this spherical object and forcing itself forward. It soars feet, no yards, or meters maybe in a straight direction. It's going towards its home, where it feels protection and peace. It reaches the net. 

And then there is silence. Nothing. Just the win rustling against the goal posts. My long hair blows towards it, as I fixate on the round, white object. 

I sigh. It is finished. 

My last score. All alone. 

On this field, I feel freedom. It is my home. 

A faint clap is heard in the distance. I shift my position towards a boy. A fellow soccer player.

"Nice shot!" He says. His raspy voice is what makes him attractive to the girls in our school. His looks have improved over the course of his high school career. 

I turn away. "It's not like you understand anyway." I then face him. "I don't need the empathy of someone with a hideous personality. It means nothing."

"Harsh." He laughs it off. "Why don't you play for the soccer team?"

I pause. My eyes find their way to the ground. I don't look up. "I don't want to."

"Really? You don't want to? A girl with such incredible skill doesn't want to play? Yet, you appear to love the sport so much. How interesting." He replied.

I gulp, look up to the dark, tainted sky, and breathe. "I have my reasons."

"Your reason," he stops, "or more like a difficulty?"

I sigh. "I am unable to participate on sports teams. I injured my knee. The doctors have no idea what is wrong with it. I am not allowed to run for long periods of time and compete on teams." Tears swell. "I love it so much. The feeling. The rush. The passion. It's all there. Except the part I need to play with it." 

He walks over. I hear the crunch of the leaves and grass beneath his feet. He places one hand on my shoulder. "So sorry."

"You aren't sorry. You could care less." I turned to him, disgusted. "What passion do you have for this sport? Nothing except the label of 'jock'. It's people like you who sicken me the most. You have no right to play the sport!" I back away from him, throwing his hand away from my shoulder. 

"Please, it's just a sport." He says. "Nothing more than that. It's just a game."

"It's not a game. You won't ever realize this till your injured and told you can never play again! To normal players, sports of all kinds, they don't know how lucky they are to be able to play! To enjoy their favorite sports. But they don't realize how important it really is until it is destroyed. The freedom of giving your all is shattered into millions and billions of pieces. You won't ever know until it's gone and taken away from your outstretched hands. I didn't grasp it hard enough until it was too late."

I hold my arms out, palms open and let my fingers form a fist. I look at them. "It's gone. It's not within reach anymore."

He sighs. "It is if you believe it is." He turns around and walks away. I see him look back, and then forward. He yells, "No need to get worked up about it. Make it a goal to heal your knee. And then play on the team. Feel the same love and passion that seems so unattainable." He turns back around, walking backwards. "When you reach that goal, come find me. And we can play a one-on-one sometime." He turns back around and walks off.

I stand in my place. My eyes opened wide. A sly smile comes across my face. I cup my hands together and I yell, "You better be ready Peter! That's a promise!"

"No!" He yelled. "It's my goal! To beat you!" He laughed and turned his head, revealing a soft smile.

So he isn't a complete jerk after all.

I run over to the net and pick up the soccer ball. I thought of Peter and his "goal" and I smiled for no reason. 

My heart beat fast just thinking about his promise.

I'll work hard and reach my goal.

So you do as well.

Nothing is impossible.

Nothing can limit us.

Get goals, not limitations.

After all, the main difference between goals and limitations is that goals can be achieved.


© Copyright 2020 Emma Brooks. All rights reserved.

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