literature

The Outsider

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oncebroken's avatar
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Literature Text

I am already on the track, far earlier than all the others, stretching and limbering up my muscles. And, as usual, I am alone. No one approaches me to talk to me, although I can hear them talk about me behind my back.


'Retard' I hear a voice whisper. Ignore them, I tell myself. Block it out. Concentrate. And it works too, for I have a lot of practice, after all, in ignoring my enemies.


I was born with an illness that left me deformed, half my face bulging out in a strange, even grotesque, manner. Even though my parents hastened to explain to people how I was actually normal, only that I looked different, my earliest memories involve childish playground taunts, shouts of 'Monster!' and looks of pity. I endured operation after operation, and doctors were my constant companions. I had few friends, and they were greatly outnumbered by my detractors.


'She'll never win' another voice wafts by my ear. 'Loser.' Breathe in. I concentrate. Breathe out.


I tried to prove myself to them. Tried to show them how much I could accomplish, how much I was like them. I worked hard at everything I did. And yet, the more I succeeded, the further apart we grew. Now, it seems as though everything I do causes an upset. Get good grades on one test, and it is whispered how the teachers take pity on my because of my supposed disability. Get a bad grade, and I am portrayed as arrogant, confident of breezing through school without working...because of my disability. I can never win.


The starter tells us to get ready. I walk towards the line, tightening my ponytail, trying to shake of my nervousness. A tall girl elbows me aside and looks at me contemptuously, daring me to say something. I shrug it off. What good would it do?


Today, I tell myself as I take my position, I will win. Today is the day I will finally earn their respect. The winner of the race always gets a huge round of applause that echoes through the tiny stadium. Today, I promise myself, that applause will be for me.


The starter raises his arm.


'On your mark...'


I tense up immediately.


'Get set...'


You can do it, I think.


'BANG!'


I fly down the track, and as usual, everything and everyone else seems to disappear. I hear the sound of the wind rushing in my ears. The faces in the stand become a blur. All I hear is the steady 'thud, thud, thud' I make as my feet pound on the track. I leave the others far behind. And then, I feel it- the silky swish of a red ribbon against my chest. I've done it! First place! I am the winner! Never have I felt more triumphant, more alive. I pant as I slow to a stop. And I wait for the applause, my arms raised in victory.


It never comes. There are a few scattered claps, out of politeness, and that is all. The silence is deafening. After a while a murmur runs through the assembled audience, spreading like fire on dry twigs, mingled with hisses and jeers. Slowly, I bring down my arms. Then, slower still, I walk off the track, the euphoria of my achievement fading with every step I take.


Why must society cast aside all those who are even the slightest bit different? Everyone resorts to comforting clichés like 'Never judge a book by its cover' or 'Beauty comes from within', yet no one takes the trouble to look beyond outside appearances and see my inner beauty. Today, tomorrow, forever, I will remain an outsider.


Today I was a winner. Yet, I lost. And something tells me I will always lose.

A short story. Well, ok, more like a fragment, since it doesn't really have an intro-climax-conclusion type plot. My aunt was born with a disfigured face due to illness; that she can't geo anywhere without being misunderstood because of it just kills me.
© 2004 - 2024 oncebroken
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nilocnag's avatar
An interesting insight into sports and self-image. :nod:

I find the second last paragraph too preachy and sentimental. Maybe you can tone it down a little by describing in more detail what happened after she won—maybe put in her family members or friends.