Mark!
By Islay R.
Ouch! by Adam T.
A solid weight in my hand, my nose fills with the smell of wet metal. The salty, metallic taste of blood coats my tongue. My body twisted, coiled like a spring, ready to snap. Finally, the release, my body swings around, shoulders first. My arm out to the side, momentum holding the discus to my hand. Quickly my fingers curl in, squeezing the steel rimed disc out of my grasp. My right arm swings around, limp. I stumble forward, carried by the force. Still in the ring. My eyes scan the muddy field. A voice booms in my ear. “Mark!”