Lightning
By Nancy V. Sont
The clouds over Kansas were throbbing with light as Clark stood in the open field. He sensed it coming and prepared to race it. The tingle. He shot to the cloud, watching the lightning beside him. Beaten again.
Again on the ground he prepared himself, felt it. In sync with the ions, he shot into the cloud. A tie.
He stood in the wet grass, every sense on high alert. Off like a rocket.
His mother stood on the porch watching, his father’s arm around her shoulders.
“I think he won, Jonathan!”
“No. Another tie.”
It's always such an embarrassment. Having to do away with someone. It's like announcing to the world that you lack the savvy and the finesse to deal with the problem more creatively. I mean, there have been times, naturally, when I've had to have people eliminated, but it's always saddened me. I've always felt like I've let myself down somehow.
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