Authors Note:

This is the first draft of my short story and I am in the process of making it into a piece that flows a lot better than it does right now. I like the content that I have, but I want to be able to develop it more. I want my readers to be able to feel exactly how I did when I experienced this event. Right now in my drafting process, I am just telling them what I went through. I want to get to the point where they read it and they feel like they are right there, walking around the block with me. I want to be able to cut out all dead verbs or boring, typical words so I can achieve that point. Thank you for taking your time to read my work, I hope that as I move further into this process, you will be able to obviously see that changes that I have made.

 

The day seemed like any other. Perfect conditions for a friendly soccer game in the backyard with my sisters. As always, Jordan and I were on the same team since Addi reigns supreme as the soccer all-star. Stakes were high as the game was all tied up 2-2, Jordan and I needed a goal to pull ahead. With the expertise of just a few months of soccer training, Jordan moves across the backyard, dribbling skills in use. I tried to find an open spot in the yard for her to pass to me. This wasn’t exactly the hardest thing in the world since it was just the three of us playing. Jordan sees me and brings her leg back to kick the ball across the yard. He leg swings through and up the ball goes. And keeps going. Her kick had cleared me and was headed for the fence. All of us stopped in shock and our panic stopped us from taking any further action. We knew what was going to happen and none of us liked the outcome. Over the ball went, into the unknown. Our game of soccer was cut short by an unfortunate series of really just one event.

This wasn’t the first time that something like this happened to us. In years past, when all of our soccer abilities were undeveloped, the ball practically lived on the opposite side of the fence. We didn’t know our own strength and couldn’t control the patterns our feet moved. Once again we were stuck in a sticky situation. What do we do next, how will we ever play soccer with out a ball. We all stood there looking at each other with complete blank stares. All of us knew what had to happen next, but no one wanted to say it out loud. The fear of walking around the block to the house behind ours was buried deep, none of us wanted to make the uncomfortable journey. At the same time, one of us would have to brave it out if there was to ever be another Ernstmeyer soccer game. Being the oldest, I knew the responsibility would fall on my shoulders.

The three of us stood there bickering for a moment. All of us knew how to hold our own so after weighing all our different options we came up with the conclusion that we would just ask dad to go get the ball for us. Marching inside so boldly, our words were exactly planned out. Nothing could go wrong now, we were safe from the trek around the block. We focused entirely too much on our vision of success that we were faced with failure. We prepared more that just words to convince our dad to help us out, only to immediately get shot down.

The three of us were back where we started, in the yard, arguing about who would have to go get the ball. In the end, my suspicions were right. I was the one who was chosen to retrieve the ball. My heart dropped when I actually hear them say it, even though I should have been prepared for it the whole time. I would now have to take what seemed like the longest walk in all of history. Along the way I would plan out what I would say to those who lived behind us.

I made my sisters walk with my because in the end I would be on my own, but for now I could drag them along with me. Each step seemed longer and heavier than the last. This was not what I was planning on spending my day doing. These nerves were unneeded. I dreaded the walk up my neighbors driveway the whole entire walk around the block, and that came faster than I thought it would.

Seeing the front door brought me panic. I would actually have to talk to people, make conversation, and risk putting myself on the line. My palms start sweating as I reach for the doorbell. My heart drops even further into my stomach as I hear the dinging through the house walls. I still have no idea what to say. I hear a dog bark and footsteps approaching. Something would have to come out of my mouth. My sisters stood back on the driveway, I was all on my own. I frantically search for words as someone fumbles with the locks on the door. I take one last deep breath before the door creaks open. I am now faced with what I’ve been dreading the whole walk over.

I am greeted with a pleasant smile from a lady who doesn’t seem the least bit scary. I am put to ease and am able to group together enough English to ask for our ball back. She responds immediately, telling me to come on in and head to the backyard. I follow, without a string of doubt. She leads me to the backyard and I quickly locate the ball and grab it. We had a game of soccer to get back to.

Turns out, I had nothing to fear the whole walk over. Our neighbors were completely understanding of the situation and told us if the ball ever comes over the fence again, to feel free to stop on by. I faced my fear, only to realize I should have had no fear at all.