A rush of wind strikes, as sudden as the echo of a twig snap that parodies the starting pistol. The sun has sunk to be barely visible, but it’s the sudden cold that jerks me from my dream-like state. I’ve never been one for creativity, really, but I don’t think that dreaming is necessarily a creative thing, despite what teachers used to say. After all, isn’t a goal just a dream that you try to turn into reality? And that’s precisely what I’m doing, rolling down this stretch of hill, chasing my dreams. Putting all the effort in the world in, bracing myself against the bitter cold that’s beginning to set in with the dusk of a long day. Everyone knows what being the best is, and yet no one seems to know what reaching it looks like. Catching my breath at the bottom, I look up at the terrain that now towers over me, majestic and unmoving. I may be small, but not long ago, I was at the top of that. And I could see the world. If anything, this hill vastly symbolizes the journey I must embark on, the angle of looking up what seems like a mountain, to reach those at the top. But this is the path I have chosen for myself, and I will be up there with them some way or another. Lost in thoughts, I begin to make my way back home, barely noticing the opening of the sky to rain that softly falls. Soon enough, I am face to face with constant reminders of who I am and how far I have yet to go, reflected in the puddles I pass.
The tears of the sky are a certainty, the pain and suffering of the world etched into every raindrop that hurtles down from above at terrifying speeds that one never thinks about for they are so small and so many. Thousands would not describe the amount, but each raindrop that is part of the larger rain is just as forgotten as the next. They distort the world as they fall, and yet the time is brief before they hit the ground and become nothing. I watch the rain through a window, oblivious to the crescendo of the kettle’s whistle behind me. It’s been a long time since the days I would race down hills with all the determination of a champion, but the dream was not yet lost. And as I stationed myself in the shadow of the night, I grew jealous of the rain that could fall so freely and so fast. Oh to be as speedy as rain, to be able to travel with such knowledge and might. And yet being as insignificant as a raindrop would never get you anywhere. I spin around to face my living room, boxes stacked up precariously around the space, symbols of the next chapter in my life, the journey’s continuation into a large city where I can hope and train for my dream to become reality. Tomorrow. But for now, a coffee awaits.
The pandemonium of the city seems far away as I remain stationary on the sidewalk, oblivious to the hubbub of passing vehicles and marbles all around me. The cascading rain is invisible and meaningless, splashing above me and soaking me entirely, but I do not notice. My thoughts are far away, in an excited mess that I am now one step closer to the dreams I’ve had ever since I was a young marble. The speed at which I joyfully departed the stadium after signing a contract with the coach there was parallel only to the speeds at which I hope to one day achieve in competition. This was it, the beginning of my story. And yet, as I hesitated in exhilaration, a sudden pang of deep pain and grief struck me as I remembered that those I wanted to share it with were no longer here. The future was to be a battle that I must face alone, but I knew that the stars would guide me and keep me company, and my first step was getting out of the rain.
The silence echoes, memories of the recent calamity of noises that met this garden. The stars above twinkle softly, and I watch them for a while. The towering trees that surround me remain unmoved by the change of atmosphere, and they watch me silently and supportively, just like the trees back home when I lost my parents. I had run off into the night to sit in solitude in a park just like this one, alone yet with the company of the stars. I had been sad then, but now I was ecstatic, floating on the excitement of my first-ever win and the momentous party that had followed it. Glaring and flickering lights in a vast array of joyful colors, music that swirled through the air at great volume, and so many marbles partying and having a good time in celebration. It seemed like only yesterday I had started my official training, and yet it was a good while ago by now. I have grown so much in both physical and mental strength, and I feel unstoppable. This is what I was born to do, and everyone knew it. A soft breeze rustles the nearby bushes and I lower my gaze to my silent and still surroundings. The party had ended not long ago, it was amazing how quickly everything could change.
Shouts of joy fill the stadium, and our coach seems to be somewhere between laughing and crying. Friends of mine roll around in pure happiness, racing each other to an unheard start. My heart feels light, and I gleefully roll to meet them. We’ve done it, we’ve successfully been selected for a major competition, and success from here will undoubtedly lead us to the very top of all marble sports. Hours and years of dedicated training, sweat, and tears pay off for our unrestrained elation. A massive cake appears from nowhere, and a party hat seemingly materializes on my head. The stadium speakers erupt in a sudden announcement, though the seats are empty and only my team, the coach, and the manager are here to hear it. Music starts blasting and I laugh and join my friends in another lap around to celebrate. Here’s to the future!
Powerful lights blind me, and for a moment I wonder if I had fallen asleep at another celebratory party, or am at the stadium. But these aren’t colorful lights, flashing around me with shouting and singing. They are horrible, fluorescent white lights, and I am lying down. And I begin to notice, I am in a great deal of pain. The sounds of beeping and distant movements distract me greatly as I try desperately to think back, but my memory is clouded, and I don’t know what happened. All I know is that I can barely move, and I have never felt more alone and confused.
Once upon a time, I raced up and down the nearby hills. I had sat down on this very park bench to cry about my parents and had spent many a time gazing up at the sky, watching the faraway stars flickering gently in the distance, reminding me that I was not alone. But here I am, back at home once more. A sinking feeling weighing me down at every second that I painfully remember all my dreams. And how they had collapsed suddenly in one moment, the moment in which I was told I could never compete again. The pain from my injury is still severe, but nothing could match the pain and anguish as I recall my ambitions and desperation to become a world-class marble athlete. My aspirations feel so far away, the younger me racing down the hill is merely a ghost from a life I will never live again. I hear the promise I made to myself long ago, whispered in the wind. The promise of greatness, of never giving up, of reaching those at the top. But that was long ago. It was horrible how quickly everything could change.
I shiver in excitement, crouched neatly in my hiding place. The sounds of thousands of marbles rolling around surround me and I quickly stifle a laugh, for I need to stay as still and silent as possible. Each time I do this feels just as exhilarating as the first, and I can hardly believe that I am here, where I had always longed to be. Since the agreement, I have taken my task entirely seriously and provide entertainment to many, just by being here, in prime spots to spectate the sports that I had once dreamed of participating in. And yet, in a way, I have fulfilled my promise. While my past injury prevents me from competing, I have finally made my way to those at the top and made peace with my role within marble sports. I will never be where I had wanted to be, but sometimes winning doesn’t mean taking gold. There isn’t always a happy ending, but I’ve taken mine and made it the happiest I can. Because I am Roldo, and I have finally found myself. Now it’s your turn.
Credits
- Writer & Artist: Phoenix
- Release: 02/10/2023
Project Marblearth 