New Story

Anything you write

Moderator: Hatter Police

New Story

Postby Cherokee_girl on Mon Dec 10, 2007 11:11 pm

Since I can't figure out hamster because I forgot and I'm waiting on nil, I'll post my new story here. It's only going to be a few chapters long. I work on it when I have time, so here's the first chapter that took me 3 months to write.

Jess stepped on the court, his hands already slippery with sweat. People conversed in the stands surrounding him; there had to be at least a hundred people there to watch. They grew silent as their attention was drawn to the court, where he stood in the open. The two balls in his pocket felt like rocks and his racquet was non-existent. He pushed his sunglasses back up on his nose and glanced over the net.

His opponent loomed over the coach that stood on the other side of the fence; compared to Jess’s 5’4” height, the guy was taller by at least eight inches. Lean muscles stretched over his frame, giving Jess a hint at the strength and speed to come. When he turned from his coach with a nod, Jess knew he was in over his head; this guy was built to win, to win fast and hard. They shook hands across the net, the opponent squeezing his hand a little hard, and spun for the serve; Jess was receiving. He handed over the game balls and settled into his position.

The ball came at him fast and hard. He barely had enough time to dodge it before it hit the ground. “Long,” he called a bit shakily. The serve came again, softer this time, much softer. Just as coach said it would happen; hard first serve, soft second. He returned the ball, tilting the racquet at the last moment to send a surprise his opponent’s way. The player moved up and hit the ball before it came close to the ground. He smirked as it hit the asphalt and bounced out of Jess’s reach. His hand shook a bit as he gripped the racquet, but he shook it off and continued.

Jess stepped back into his receiving position and dodged the oncoming ball again. “Long.” The second serve was soft again, but not soft enough. Jess called out “Long” again. The game was tied at 15-all. The third serve followed the same pattern, a hard first serve with a soft second. Jess returned the second serve, again tilting the racquet. It hit the ground this time, the other player standing back to return it, but he was surprised when it jumped backward and fell short of expectation. He lunged for it, taking a chance; he watched it be caught by the net. The point went to Jess.

“15-30, first,” the opponent called and slammed his racquet against the ball. It was long again as was his second. Jess needed one point to win the first game.

Two double faults in a row; will he do it again? Jess watched his opponent, mainly his arms and his feet. He was mildly surprised when one of the feet stepped over the line just before the ball and racquet collided. “Fault.” The young man glanced up. “It was a foot fault.” The look on his face had ‘how-dare-you’ written all over it.


Game one was over and it went to Jess. He had to play at least five more before this set was finished and there was still one more after that. They changed sides without a word, but when Jess reached for the balls, his opponent slammed them into his hand; pain shot through his hand before he shook it off. He picked up his water bottle and took a drink before taking his place at the base line. He tucked one ball into his pocket and bounced the other off the asphalt. “One-love, love-all.” He tossed the ball into the air and brought the racquet down on it. It hit the line and was returned with equal force. The rally went on until pain shot through Jess’s hand and the ball landed in the net.

He grimaced as he picked up the ball the rolled to him. He was about to call the serve when he noticed his hand; it shook slightly, but enough to throw off his serve. It must be from when he handed me the balls. I’ll play through it. Jess called score, “Love-15” and served. Up the ball went and fast over the net before it was returned. Though it was coming straight for his right hand, he maneuvered so he could hit it backhanded; using both hands to steady his aim, Jess nailed the ball to the back corner, earning him the point. He called and served again, maneuvering to backhand again. When the point was won, by his opponent, Jess could see his coach out of the corner of his eye. She had a look that told him she was questioning his doings; she hadn’t been there the whole time, so she didn’t know about his hand.

They went on and played out the rest of the match. “15-30” “30-30” “40-30” “Deuce” “Add in” “Deuce” “Add out” “Deuce” “Add in” “Game”. Jess won in the end, but at a price, his hand was throbbing painfully. One more match was played, to be won by the other player, and then they switched. Both coaches called their players over in this break.

“Jess,” his coach said, “what is going on? You’ve been trying to hit nothing but two-handed backhands.”

“Sorry, Coach Kness, but I think I hurt my hand. See.” Jess held up his right hand and watched it shake slightly. “It wasn’t like that before the game, or even during the first match; it’s just been since we switched sides and I started serving.”

“Here, let me see.” Coach Kness reached her small hands through the fence and took Jess’s. She gingerly felt from his wrist to his fingertips and back. “There doesn’t seem to be anything broken, but I’m not a doctor. Play out the match as best you can and we’ll see what to do from there. Since you’ve been using backhands, he’s going to get used to it and find a way to beat you; step it up a bit, I know you can.” She pulled her hands back and nodded to him. “I’ve seen you in practice; now put that practice to play.”

Jess nodded and returned to the court. It was his serve again. The game continued much as the last one had with the lead bouncing back and forth between the opponents. Though his hand throbbed steadily, Jess kept moving, ignoring the pain. Every once in a while, he would look up to where his coach was looking on with concern. Game followed game and turned in to a set then two; Jess had won the first, but lost the second. He had managed to play through the pain, sometimes biting down a yelp. Now, halfway through the last set, his resolve began to weaken.

“Coach,” he said during one switch, “I don’t think I can finish this set. I’ve had to go back to forehands and they hurt. My aim isn’t steady anymore. Look.” Jess held up his hand like before, except this time the shakes were bigger and faster.

“I think we should call off the match now. You can’t play like that.”

Jess shook his head. “But I can and I will. I’m halfway done; I just need two more games to win.”

“It’s not going to be easy. This is for the state championship.” Coach Kness shook her head. “I think you should quit, but if you think you can finish, go ahead. But at any time, if you feel you need to, call the match off.”

“I will, don’t worry.” Jess took a swig from his water bottle and went back to the match.

It played out well, though Jess had to rely on his backhand more than before. The first of the two games he needed, Jess won. He smiled at the thought that if he won this game, the match would be over, the state championship his, and he could rest his hand. Though the ache had settled to a dull throb between games and hits, it spiked whenever the ball and racquet connected. He tried hard to conceal the pain from his coach and opponent, but he knew both could see it.

This was going to be the last game, it had to be. The ball sailed gracefully into the air and Jess smashed it with his racquet. Pain shot through his hand but he expected it and changed the angle at which he hit so the ball would still go where he wanted. The game continued on, each serve changed to correct his aim, until the score was 40-15. One more point and it’s all over, Jess thought to himself. The ball was sent sailing over the net again and again it came back. He saw the ball coming for him and moved to take it backhand after it bounced. He saw it hit the asphalt and come up at a strange angle. Jess stepped back to hit it then felt a blinding pain in his side, driving him to his knees and forcing him to cough.

“Jess!” He heard his name ring through the air and the footsteps that pounded towards him. They were light but quick; his coach was soon at his side with an official. Her hand on his back was soothing and his coughing subsided. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He saw the look in her eyes and quickly reassured her. “Really, I’m fine. Just let me finish the game. Is it point or replay?”

“Replay,” the official told him. His coach then backed off and returned to the gate with the official.

Jess touched his side tenderly, wincing; he knew it was bruising underneath his shirt. Damn, that really hurt. One point though. He called the score again and served. This time it hurt to stretch for the ball and the muscles screamed in protest. When he saw the ball coming back, he noticed its angle; it would hit weird again. He backed up a significant distance and let it bounce before going after it. He hit it back and so did his opponent; he hit is with the same angle and more power. Jess moved farther, standing completely outside the boundaries. It would be a long shot and he wanted to be prepared in case it did hit in.

It hit just outside the line and bounced to the wall behind him. Jess called out, “Long! Game, Set!” Just as he moved towards his opponent to shake hands, the ball rebounded off the wall. Normally, hitting objects that do not reflect power would cause the ball to slow, but, if anything, this one had the same power. It struck Jess in the back, opposite of his other sore spot. He cried out in pain and collapsed to his knees, sputtering and coughing. Again he heard the footsteps of his coach. He covered his mouth as he coughed, one hand at his face, the other holding him up. When he was able to breathe again, he moved to put his hand on the ground but something caught his attention.

Shiny and dark, his hand was splattered with blood. Before he could speak or show Coach Kness, he began coughing again. This time he had to use both hands to hold himself, and blood splattered all over the green asphalt, turning black against it. He was able to look over at the woman beside him before his arms buckled and darkness invaded.

So you know Jess and Coach Kness are based on real people--> Trumpetprodigy and our tennis coach. Hope you liked. Next part will be up when I get it done...sometime...eventually.
I like Anime and Manga and Music and DOCTOR WHO!!
User avatar
Insane Hatter
Insane Hatter
Posts: 916
Joined: Thu Apr 28, 2005 10:17 pm
Location: Somewhere near central Kentucky, in a town that starts with a B.

Re: New Story

Postby TheCountess on Wed Dec 19, 2007 8:01 am

That sounds... extraordinarily painful.
I will holler you Home
User avatar
Mad Hatter
Mad Hatter
Posts: 437
Joined: Wed Oct 05, 2005 2:34 am
Location: New Zealand

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests