Greek Olympics

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about young Hermes as he gainsthe stregth and skills to become an olympian chariot racer.

Submitted: December 11, 2012

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Submitted: December 11, 2012

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My name is Hermes. I am about to tell you about my life as a young boy in Athens, Greece, a land of high mountains and the greenest of grasses. It was the year 300 ad. I had a toga to wear, leather sandals, my hair was always a mess, and I was constantly in trouble for something. My father was hard on me, help with the horses he’d say, get to know them. I didn’t want anything to do with them I guess I should have listened when he offered to teach me, because the next year of my life was hell.

See Greece was fighting Persia at the time. Anybody’s father could’ve been chosen to go fight, but it had to be mine. It was also the year of the Olympian Games. So when father Kaisar left for war, I was next in line to run the family chariot.  I knew nothing about horse or chariots. I really should have listened to Kaisar.

It took me a full 6 months of blood, sweat and tears, caring for my 6 year old, Arabian stallions, Elijah and Pegasus, until I posted a result that would barely qualify. While I was busy learning to drive the chariot, all the others were getting faster and faster around the track. This then forced me to train even harder, putting even more stress on my horses, pushing them past their limits. It’s surprising how well they lasted.

Finally, after 8 months of never ending training, working from dawn until dusk, it was race day. Training had taken a toll on both me and my horses. I do think, however, that training this hard had built their stamina well above a lot of the other horses, putting them at peak performance level.

As I stood harnessing both Elijah and Pegasus, it gave me the chance to look around, size up the competition. What was I doing here? They had all done this a million times. They could do it with their eyes closed. I would have to concentrate fully, pay attention to any moves they made, anything to give myself an edge.

The cannon sounded, informing us to take seat in our chariot, and head to the starting line. An eerie quiet broke throughout the entire stadium. It allowed me to clear my mind and only think about what I had been training so hard for. This was it. Boom! The cannon sounded again, and everything was a blur of humans, horses and chariots, as we all blew out of the stadium. We headed towards the back stretch as I eased my team to sit in a good position, sitting third against the rail. I could easily tell who the favorite and most likely to win was, Elias, with his big thoroughbreds and brand new unit. Running strong, I pushed both Elijah and Pegasus even harder, now in second position. Even if Elias had the horses bred to run, mine were burning with stamina.

As we rolled around the third corner, I smacked them hard with the reins. We were now neck and neck with Elias. The horses were taunting each other, pushing each other to their limits. Mine had the heart of ten of his. As we came around corner four, all I could see was the finish line. Slowly, I was pulling ahead of Elias, building more and more distance between me and the competition. As I crossed the finish line I could see the looks of surprise on the faces of the crowd. The rookie had won. They went absolutely nuts, screaming my name, and showering me with rose petals.

None of that mattered though, for when I drove my beautiful team to the winners circle, it was the best moment of my life. My father, Kaisar, had returned, unharmed. At this point I didn’t care how hard he’d been on me. All that mattered was that he was home, and for once, he was proud of me. I became Hermes, son of Kaisar, first and only to win the Olympian games on the first try. To this day, my record still stands.


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