Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2015 | Page 54

eyes on the pitcher and waited for the chance to swing his bat. The pitcher, a little taken aback by the masochistic show he just witnessed, began his wind-up and threw the ball. “Ball!” The pitcher missed his mark and tried again. “Ball two!” All this time, Isaac did not move an inch; he just waited for the right pitch. The pitcher felt as if Isaac was growing bigger and bigger, completely overshadowing him. The intimidation of somehow who is giving his all with glowing eyes unnerved the poor how high he lifted his leg, how far he reached back for the release. and watched the ball intently as the pitcher released. Everything began to move in slow motion. Isaac grinned and swung the bat. Clang! The ball soared over the pitcher, then over second base into Home run, he thought cheerfully to himself. The moment by the wind, slow down until it dropped. All its momentum lost, it A collective symphony of relief and anger burst out from and fans alike, as the wind halted their victory. Isaac did not think he would lose, but he did. He lost to the wind. To chance. Looking up, he saw the bright moon and let out a small smile. He turned around to return to the dugout. That was fun. I’ll win next time. [43] S