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At The Track

The PA system crackled.  The walk-around was complete.  Those in the stands clung onto their tickets tightly. They had that that hopeful glow all about them.  There’s always something magical about horseracing. The Gamblers, while most would leave the track with far less money than they had before arriving, each and all, had the possibility to hit it big, and that was what kept each of them coming back.  This was what made the anticipation so great.

 

The Announcer started rattling off each horse:  A Ghost Named Rain….Therefore, Contagious…Marty’s Martian Landlord…Felicity’s Dancing Dominatrix…Mike’s Vulgar Rainbow…Somewhere over the Backstop….Dream, Dream Patchwork Innocence and Sweet Cake and Rum to round out the field.

Eight chances to cross the finish line Win, Place or Show…

 

The Starting gun was pointed…shot…and they were off.

 

Marty’s Martian Landlord pulled up lame just moments after the quarter-mile.  Sweet Cake and Rum, the odds on favorite, was lagging bad.  Neither would be claiming victory this night, taking their 4 to 1 and 2 to 1 odds with them respectively.

 

Six remained and the odds increased.

 

Therefore Contagioushad five strides between his back shoe and A Ghost Named Rain, who was followed closely by Mike’s Vulgar Rainbow, Felicity’s Dancing Dominatrix and Dream, Dream Patchwork Innocence.   Following the pack, just a few strides back, was the other 4 to 1 horse, Somewhere Over the Backstop.

 

Dirt kicked up high.  Faces strained in the stands.  Three separated themselves, leaving hope to balance out over the final section of track.

 

Sweat was dripping from brows about…yelling,”C’mon, C’mon” and the like, phrases heard easily a thousand times over in a little over a minutes time…

 

In the end…Mike’s Vulgar Rainbow Won, Therefore, Contagious Placed and Dream, Dream Patchwork Innocence Showed.  80 to 1, 65 to 1 and 9 to 1 respectively

 

This Big White-Haired man screamed some reveling words and fainted flat over the bleacher seats…

 

“Paramedics, Paramedics,” a gangly, weasel looking of a man shouted loudly…seconds before he pried the winning trifecta from the old man’s pudgy finger and thumb.

 

I tried setting things straight, but nobody would listen….I felt bad, but at least I had a really nice Show.

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About hobgoblin2011

I'm a poet and aspiring screenwriter/songwriter with a passion for film, art, photography, philosophy and heavy metal. I love reading, mainly non-fiction, comic books, graphic novels, myth and reference. Family always comes first for me. I'm a proud father to two wonderful pups and two curious cats. I'm also a glutton for punishment aka the life of being a diehard Buffalo Bills and Sabres fan.

One response »

  1. The way you move through this has the real feeling of a horserace … or, so I would imagine, not every having been. Nice flash fiction, Fred. 🙂

    Reply

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