“Diana, look. The potato sack race is starting. Get in line, quick!” her mother urged.
Too shy, Diana wilted at the thought of joining in anything, especially competitive activities.
“Go on, you can do it. You could win, you know. You’re tall and long-legged,” she coaxed.
“Mom, do I have to?”
“I want you to try. Yes, you have to.”
Her mother’s trump card played, Diana had no choice but to comply.
The contestants lined up at the starting line, ears pinned for the ready-set-pop of a cap gun-go.
She heard the crowd cheering the contestants on, her mother’s voice louder than the rest, “Come on! Come on! Jump, Diana, keep jumping!”
Hey, Mom’s right! Look at me! I’m ahead! Gripping the potato sack and bouncing to mid field, she glanced back at the others. I’m far ahead!
Diana, transfixed by the finish line in front of her, tripped and fell, her face inches away from the red tape taut on the field.
“Get up! Get up! You can win!” her mother screamed.
Diana stared at the tape. If she stuck out her tongue, she could lick it. She imagined it would taste like a strawberry lollipop. Unfortunately, her feet, not her tongue had to cross that line. She couldn’t move them until the announcer shouted, “And the winner is….”
I’m this close to finishing my wip. Why can’t I reach the finish line?
Thanks for stopping by!