Harry gasped for breath as he reached the end of the pool, bracing his hands against the wall for support and leaning his forehead on the edge, to slow down the racing pulse in his temples. It was getting worse.
Coach Sheldon leaned over the edge, looking at Harry’s water-streaked cheeks.
“You’ve got some explainin’ to do, son. No way was that your best lap. How are you ever gonna make it to the championship in three months if you belly crawl your way across the water, eh?”
He owed it to the guy. The coach had thrown everything into this- extra hours before school, weekend sessions at 6 a.m, missing the kid’s piano recital- and he deserved to know.
‘Coach, I’m scared. I don’t think I can do this. Each day the championship draws closer, my fear grows.’
“You’re scared? Of what?”
‘That I’ll be a big, fat failure,’ admitted Harry, resting his chin on his knuckles.
“You aren’t scared.”
Harry looked mystified.
“If you were really scared, you’d have quit coming here. What you are scared of, is disappointing me.
Trust me, the day you signed up for this regime, you won everything in my book.”
Word count: 199
Every week on a Sunday, a new photo is used as a prompt for Flash Fiction challenge using around 200 words based on that image. Your story does not have to be exactly what the item in the photo is as long as there is at least a reference to it.
I am a Write Tribe Pro Blogger– Trying to blog everyday for a year.
Today is Day 66
Also linking this to Day7 of the October Ultra Blog Challenge