Photo credits to Chewy Chua

“You son of a b*tch! That was an excellent shot!”  Ricky complimented Arthur, after the latter made a crosscourt drop shot to the other team.

They were paired in a badminton match. It was the finals and their game was the last one.

The score was 16- 11 and their opponents were ahead of them in the third set of the game. Ricky thought they had the advantage since Arthur was a veteran player, but Arthur was preoccupied, and the shot he made was just a lucky one.

Ricky knew that they might not win since Arthur kept thinking about a debt that he recently acquired. Arthur’s head was not in the game.

“Sixteen all,” shouted the referee. It almost felt like they were about to win. Despite the lack of focus, shot after shot, Arthur was on fire, whopping the ball home.

“Good eyes!” Ricky shouted as Arthur stopped himself from hitting the shuttlecock that fell outside the line.

Arthur acknowledged his partner by raising his badminton racket in the air towards him, but it was the dreadful look in his eyes that made Ricky’s heart almost jumped out of his chest. Arthur’s eyes reflected the torment that he was in.

The score was tied again at 20-20, the last and deciding point was at hand. Arthur told Ricky that he’d start with a short service to force the opponent to hit the shuttlecock in the air. This would provide a good hit for Ricky.

Ricky’s eyes hurt from the brackish, painful torture of his sweat, and his throat was scorching dry from the long rallies that they had. It was the calmness of Arthur that he drew courage from. At the back of his mind, betting in a match wasn’t that bad, after all, he was sure of his partner. He swore to himself that he’d give his earnings to Arthur.

When Arthur released the shuttlecock towards their opponents, instead of returning the ball ‘long,’ their opponent made a drop shot, Arthur on the other hand, made a cross court counter-drop. Their opponent was then forced to return the ball to them with a counter drop.

Watching the almost reflex like movements of Arthur made Ricky concentrate harder because the ball could reach his direction at any moment. The last drop of their opponent forced Arthur to return the ball long. It was what their opponent waited for. One of them jump-smashed the ball to his direction.

Ricky was not caught off guard and he was prepared.  He smashed the ball hard bringing it back to the other court in a long arc. The ball bounced back instantly as the other opponent’s teammate deftly hit the ball back.

Like a cobra, Arthur raised his racket the instant the ball crossed the net. The shuttle cock fell just inches away from the net.

Arthur was no longer distraught, he was focused on the movements of the other team. For the first time, his worries were washed away and his body moved like the graceful athlete that he was.

When the ball was about to hit the ground, one of their opponents dove in and caught the shuttlecock, but it flew and with a miscalculation, headed towards Ricky’s direction, who was ready to smash.

Ricky raised his right hand over his head and milliseconds away from his strike, he thought of the debt that Arthur carried and how his heart crumpled from the thought that his own best friend and god-father of his eldest son, would suffer the torment in paying that amount.

The ball was in a perfect position, and he smashed it with all of his might.

The game ended.

Minutes after the match, Arthur’s sober face greeted him. “Hey, buddy, that was a perfect smash.”

“Thanks, but I know you set it up for me,” Ricky replied knowing too well how his friend plays.

“Aww, It was really you who won the game,” Arthur insisted.

Ricky went to the locker room and he saw the bookie.

“Here is your winning money,” the guy said.

“Thank you,” said Ricky then he waited for the bookie to leave.

He went over to Arthur’s locker and left the stack of money inside.

WOOF Contest – Top Picks

Poetry

Zorlone – “Blank Stares” – A plea to finally be released, from a bond of days of suffering.

Dragon Blogger – “Passion Unholy” – Poem about passion.

Roy – “Do You Love Him?” – A short poem about missing communication with someone.

Short Story

sam balilo – “envy” – A very short story about envy.

Memoir

Jena Isle – “A Journey and an Awakening” – What would be more rewarding in life?

Brought to you by PlotDog Press with the Serial Suspense Screenplay “Intervention”

(WOOF participants should re-post all the links above by next Monday. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Presenting the finest of the writer’s blogs by the bloggers who write them. Highlighting the top posts as chosen by the January 29, 2010 WOOF Contest participants. Want in to join the next WOOF? The next contest ends January 29. Submit a link to your best writing post of the last 3 weeks using the form on this page. Participants, repost the winning link list within a week and you’re all set.

Other Contest Entrants for 1/29/10

About Writing

Roy – “I want to write” – The desire to write… but there are more important matters to attend to.

Poetry

Roy – “Abandoned” – Feeling alone…

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Image rights to Photos8.com

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My lungs
engulfed the fresh air
of the exhilaration -
of running.
A familiar bustle
of an old life,
that longed to reawaken.

The smell of rain
in the damp air,
and the sight of running feet
queued in transit.
Sweat and thrill of adrenaline,
with a steady heart beat and breathing.

Each stride
on this rubberized track,
caressed the soles of my worries.
A salty refreshing delight,
from this oval on a hill while running.

The pace of dynamic muscles,
lift the energy inside.
A reacquainted friend,
my shoes, the track, and running.

Image rights to elward-photography

0123201013161328
Puddles filled with waisted tears,
of a lonely heart that weeps.
Blank stares in a windowless room,
of a mind that never sleeps.

Each heavy footstep on the ground,
left smears of agonies of this longing.
A plea to finally be released,
from a bond of days of suffering.

The seconds of the clock lingered,
like decades in a prison cell.
No hope but a memory of yesterday,
before a wicked sorcerer’s spell.

A morning of sunshine and honeybees,
waited in a far off distance.
Time slipped through a desperate soul,
and would empty this protracted hourglass.

Image rights to Mirror Lake

Time to get up
1228200908360838

The buzzing started
A signal that life woke up
I opened my eyes

Appetite stimulus
1228200908530855

Tummies roar with rage
From the smell of breakfast air
Feet walks to the food.

New Year’s Eve
1231200919491951

Fireworks play above,
Like children with their new toys.
The New Year is here.