I stumble, splay out my hands to break my fall landing hard on the dry earth. Pain rockets through my shoulders and neck. I rest back on my heels, brush dust from my palm, examine the wound. Dripping blood turns the dusty ground crimson.
I sit for what seems an interminable time in the scorching sun. Every muscle in my body stings, sweat trickles down my shoulder blades. I shake my empty water bottle. I cannot carry on.
But then I think of him. Rise, press myself forward.
I lurch over the finishing line clutching my sponsor form.
I did it. For him. For them all.
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 word story inspired by a prompt. Read the other entires here.
My inspiration this week came from the word TRAK – I thought of the phrase ‘off the beaten track,’ and initially thought of someone being lost in the desert. I then thought what if someone was completing a run for charity but had those same feelings, insufferable heat, exhaustion etc. could they carry on?