D
dumboorah
Guest
Hi, I'm an aspiring writer and I was just wondering if you could read this story and perhaps give me some feedback?
Meet my mom; a hyperactive, pregnant lady. My stepfather is this crazed soccer fanatic and now he’s converted my mom into an avid soccer player. We live in Puerto Rico, an island that marks the apex of the Bermuda Triangle. My biological father had gone on a sailing trip four summers ago and went missing. Three months later, his carcass was found washed up against the shore. I was completely distraught when I heard the news and stayed locked up in my room for a few nights. When my mom met my stepfather, they instantly hit it off and married after a year, which brings us to the present. One day after soccer practice, my mom was approached by her coach.
“Well, Eunice,” the coach started, with a heaving sigh.
“Yes?” my mom enquired.
“You’ve been the most spirited player, so you’re the first substitute on our final game.” The coach said.
“Are you serious? I’m going to play?” my mom confirmed, receiving a nod from the coach.
There was no way that my mom’s enthusiasm could be concealed. She immediately bound into the air and assumed her “Happy Dance”.
Though expected to give birth in a week, my mom still went to the game on Sunday. The teams were tied two-two; my stepfather and I were found in the bleachers cheering the team on. Suddenly, number 13 was mauled by the ball. We groaned as our best player headed to the bench clutching their forehead. The coach patted my mom on the back and she instantly sprang up, her cleats on and ready to go. With 2 minutes left, our team was sprinting down the field with the ball. The ball was passed left and right until it reached my mom meters away from the goalpost. We all held our breath as she drew her leg back and began to kick.
The game ended as the ball soared through the posts, but my mom didn’t celebrate. She fell to the ground, hands around her big belly and my stepdad phoned for Emergency. She was rushed to the hospital in a stretcher and my stepfather and I sat in the waiting room. A doctor greeted us with an ashen expression.
“We’re sorry, but the intensity of the game was too much. We took the baby out by a Caesarean section and were able to save her, but your mom lost too many nutrients. Congratulations, she’s beautiful and healthy, just as your mom was.” The doctor told us.
My stepfather and I embraced the baby in our arms, sobbing through our eyes as we reminisced about the times we shared with mom. She was so lively and invincible; I never thought she’d die young. Sometimes I wonder if Angel was sent as a guardian for us in place of mom, so that we’ll never forget her. The doctor was right though, she was a healthy baby. Twelve years later, Angel was seen scoring the winning goal on that same soccer field.
Meet my mom; a hyperactive, pregnant lady. My stepfather is this crazed soccer fanatic and now he’s converted my mom into an avid soccer player. We live in Puerto Rico, an island that marks the apex of the Bermuda Triangle. My biological father had gone on a sailing trip four summers ago and went missing. Three months later, his carcass was found washed up against the shore. I was completely distraught when I heard the news and stayed locked up in my room for a few nights. When my mom met my stepfather, they instantly hit it off and married after a year, which brings us to the present. One day after soccer practice, my mom was approached by her coach.
“Well, Eunice,” the coach started, with a heaving sigh.
“Yes?” my mom enquired.
“You’ve been the most spirited player, so you’re the first substitute on our final game.” The coach said.
“Are you serious? I’m going to play?” my mom confirmed, receiving a nod from the coach.
There was no way that my mom’s enthusiasm could be concealed. She immediately bound into the air and assumed her “Happy Dance”.
Though expected to give birth in a week, my mom still went to the game on Sunday. The teams were tied two-two; my stepfather and I were found in the bleachers cheering the team on. Suddenly, number 13 was mauled by the ball. We groaned as our best player headed to the bench clutching their forehead. The coach patted my mom on the back and she instantly sprang up, her cleats on and ready to go. With 2 minutes left, our team was sprinting down the field with the ball. The ball was passed left and right until it reached my mom meters away from the goalpost. We all held our breath as she drew her leg back and began to kick.
The game ended as the ball soared through the posts, but my mom didn’t celebrate. She fell to the ground, hands around her big belly and my stepdad phoned for Emergency. She was rushed to the hospital in a stretcher and my stepfather and I sat in the waiting room. A doctor greeted us with an ashen expression.
“We’re sorry, but the intensity of the game was too much. We took the baby out by a Caesarean section and were able to save her, but your mom lost too many nutrients. Congratulations, she’s beautiful and healthy, just as your mom was.” The doctor told us.
My stepfather and I embraced the baby in our arms, sobbing through our eyes as we reminisced about the times we shared with mom. She was so lively and invincible; I never thought she’d die young. Sometimes I wonder if Angel was sent as a guardian for us in place of mom, so that we’ll never forget her. The doctor was right though, she was a healthy baby. Twelve years later, Angel was seen scoring the winning goal on that same soccer field.