Sober Sundays
Sober Sundays
Help Girls Track
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Help Girls Track

#Prompt 130

Worn soles faded tracks and bristle feet, you wouldn’t know they were simply chasing shadows. The loud whistle did what it knew to do, jolt everyone to their feet for endless rounds of practice— The girls look at one another, each pair of eyes mirroring the defeat they were sure to have, shoulders tense from expecting the screams to follow.

Sarah started running because in constant motion, it was easy to shake off the fears that came with being still- Even if those fears gave birth to you and put a roof over your head. She heard all the talk in school before signing up but she joined anyway. The girls in this new school never won a race, never made the top three but they showed up and ran every day, every meet— May be it was time to ask everyone what they were really running from.

Maybe if they said it aloud, they could start running towards something else— a medal, perhaps.

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Sober Sundays
Sober Sundays
Every Sunday, a new poem or story by Obii
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Obii Ifejika