Raw digits cling for dear life, pain penetrating to the bone. Muscles flex, sinews burn under acid soaked flesh. This isn’t what I pictured as a boy, staring out the window at night wishing upon a star that I would someday journey to space. I never in a million years could have imagined this path in my journey.
I shift my weight, careful not to lose my grip on the bar, my only savior from the pit below. I watch as my captors take notes. Test of human will or strength I’m assuming. I fear I may fail this one.
This is in response to Warmup Wednesday! Special Challenge: Include a lifelong dream that isn’t the Olympics.