Step 67: Get an Honorable Mention

I had mentioned this in the ridiculous rough draft of Step 66, but it got cut out during editing. I'd still like to share it with you all, so, ta-da! Two posts in one day! That's probably more amazing than getting an honorable mention in The Current in Noblesville's Halloween Writing Contest.

It was a real confidence booster to see this, especially after last month. It reminded me that I'm not terrible. :) The newspaper says you can read mine and everyone else's stories online, but you can actually only read the two winners. If you want to read mine, it's below (and it's short!).

So, my question to you: What did you do for Halloween?
And my challenge to you: Try not to eat the giant Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Pumpkin that your mom got you in one sitting--you'll most likely regret it. :P

Second Best

I am the second best runner on the team.

That’s the thought that keeps going through my head as I sprint down the darkening path.

I am the second best runner on Noblesville High School’s cross country team. I can outrun it.

It. I don’t even know what “it” is.

When I first spotted it down by the river, just past the one-mile marker at Potter’s Bridge, I thought it was a large panther. A panther would have been surprising enough—the most you might see in Hamilton County are coyotes—but then this thing stood up! It stood up on its hind legs, and it was taller than me! I’m a senior on the boy’s cross country team, and I’m not short by any standards.

While it stood there, staring at me with glowing red eyes, I couldn’t move. Just had to stare back at its muscle-ripped body balancing on two huge paws. Then it screamed and dropped to all fours again. The scream was like my sister’s when I used to drop spiders on her head from the top of the stairs—high pitched and filled with terror and hate. The scream broke the trance of its blazing eyes and sent me running.

I’m second best.

I hear its claws scratching against the pavement as it closes the distance between us.

“HELP!”

It’s piercing scream is the only response to my cry.

Stupid. Save your breath. There’s nobody out on the trails. Not at this time of night. I shouldn’t even be out here.

I suck in more oxygen, pump my arms harder. Sweat or tears run down my face. I’m not sure which. Probably both. I can’t see anything ahead of me—can’t tell how far I am from the parking lot.

Second best. Second best. Second best.

Something furry brushes against my right arm. I shouldn’t look. I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t help it. My eye’s flicker over.

It’s racing along side me, grinning with long fangs, saliva spilling from its mouth and slapping my legs. I don’t even have enough air to scream. It stays at pace with me a moment more before pulling ahead. It gets a few meters in front of me before skidding to a stop and turning to face me.

I was only second best.