The Game

The game that made thee papers for that face.

Its the middle of the game. I'm swaying side to side trying to seem horrifying , but inside i’m terrified of my opponents dark soul. The green court. I’m bent down like a frog. I'm sweating into my mouth. Fire is in my opponent eyes , her clenched fist. She licks her lips. Sweat drips off my hair. She lifts the racket,chucks the ball up and blasts it over with all of her power. Its drifting over the net. anger is flowing through me like a bull.

The ball is floating towards dripping of water. I'm anxious will I hit the ball. All this sweat in my mouth. The wind is soaring through my hair. My opponent in the distance looking pleased with herself for that shot . My muscles are tenses my face scrunched face when I knock the ball Kshh I made contact. There was a shock off the racket. The ball speeds away. Was it a good shot. I’m nervous. I have taste for revenge.

The ball sores off like a jet. The wet flying off the ball. The hair is sticking out. I hit her in the face the crowd goes ohhww. Yes im confident. She dramatically drops to the ground. I can see blood i feel poor for liking what i did. Shes screaming my hands rise to my face. I might have won the game. I go over and give her support and help her off the ground.

by Morgan

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