Moment | Trent Gurney

He closed the door behind him. It was cold, but that wouldn't stop him. He stared at it. The scooter lay lifeless at the bottom of the driveway, twisted like the body of some gruesome crime scene. The boy cringed, but told himself he must go on. He could still taste the dirt he had swallowed only hours before on his last attempt. Not this time-this time would be different. He could do it, he knew he could. Making his way to the scooter, he felt as if the wind were whispering to him, filling him with self doubt. Ignoring it, he quickly nursed his trusty steed back to life and walked it to the top of the driveway. As he mounted, he shot a quick glance back at the house to make sure mom wasn't watching again. He didn't need her to watch, because this time he was not going to fall. There he stood, ready for battle. The driveway lay before him, the small dirt hill at the bottom calling him on, waiting for him like a vulture, eager, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. You won't get me this time, he thought and with that he pushed off and started down the driveway. The wind grew stronger and louder until it was impossible to ignore, screaming at him to stop, that he'd never make it. He needed more speed. He gave himself one last thrusting kick and prepared himself for the hill. He reached it sooner than he thought and wasn't quite ready. He begins to lose his balance, while falling he glances desperately at the window to see mom hiding behind the curtain. As he hits the ground dust flies everywhere, the wind carries it away, while silently saying "I told you so." The boy lay motionless, bewildered, wondering if he would ever get that taste of dirt out of his mouth.