I am currently trying my hand with flash fiction, though I’ve done this before, but that’s during my fanfiction days. This is different. I have to come up with something original. And my initial reaction is to write about something closely familiar to me. Very flashy. 379 words, couldn’t possibly make it to 500. Doing so is like scraping thin butter on too much bread. Ah, whatever.

Ground Zero

When I started reaching behind me for my bag, cold sweat suddenly broke out from my hands. I had to shake them off, causing loose chalk to form a small cloud of white dust around me. My heartbeat escalated, taking deep calming breaths just didn’t do the trick. I closed my eyes to say a quick prayer. They’re watching, everyone’s watching. Who cares? I shouldn’t. This is between him and me. My mountain, my peak. I reached again for the chalk cocooned inside the small pouch hanging on my belt. I had to clap off the excess dust clinging unto my fingernails. I’m procrastinating again. Just get on with it. I check my gear; biner locked, harness double-backed, shoes strapped tight. Routine done, what now? Just get on with it, damn you. This is too hard, this is too hard… I can’ do it, I just can’t. The route’s too hard. There you go again. Chicken. Get on with it, there’s no turning back. They’re watching. They are. I can hear the drone of whispers, laughter, cheering… cheering me on. Cheering my name. What if I fail? What will they say? Will they still cheer for me? They’ll say you’re a loser, so get on with it to get it over and done with. Loser. Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Now cold sweat broke out of my back, I can feel my calf muscles tensing, my forearms suddenly pumped up when I haven’t reached for the first hold yet. Keep cool. Breathe. Just breathe. They don’t matter. I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing this for me. I’m my own audience. I’m the judge. I’m the competitor. I’m the competition. I looked up again, following the green tapes on the wall, the x-shapes glaring back ominously. I pretended to follow the trail, but my eyes aren’t seeing anything, only this imposing solid form, unmoving, unbending, unrelenting. He’s taunting you, are you going to let him? He thinks you’re weak. That’s not true. I closed my eyes. And prayed.

The calm is overbearing, overpowering. I opened my eyes, twisted my head to call behind my back, my sight never leaving my goal. My mountain. My peak. Climb on. I’m not weak. We’ll see who’s weak. The battle begins.

I’m ready.