Username: Veja
Show name: Cusp of Victory
Barn name: Triomphe
Sweltering heat mixed with high humidity made the air hard to breathe. Flies buzzed about, prompting many tail flicks and head shakes. Saddles shifted as jockeys readied themselves. A voice blared in the distance, announcing the names of the horses and their riders. It wasn't his first race, so he was able to tune out most of the noises. Most of the other horses seemed to do the same, though there were a few who were excitable, as they were still fairly green. He huffed and stamped his hoof, ready to be done with this.
The crowd leaned in as the start drew closer. A disruptively loud ring tone coming from the stands brought about some dirty looks. Just as everyone was distracted enough to turn away, the starting bell went off, and the gates burst open.
Triomphe leaped forward, digging his hooves in the soft dirt of the track. He charged on, others close beside him. Keeping his head down, he made his way among the other horses; every movement seemingly in slow motion. The front of the line was in his view, and he made it to second place. The stallion ahead of him was more slender, with a coat black as night and long legs, which kept him bounds ahead of every one else. Even with the odds stacked against him, Triomphe wasn't one to let anything stand in his way.
Time was running out; they were now on the very last lap. Rounding the turn, he set his sights on the next few feet ahead. His heart was racing--he wasn't exactly made for this kind of race--but every inch of his body was energized. His straining muscles were on fire with the taste of victory in his mouth. The finish line was now in sight, and he had come head to head with the stallion in first place. He could hear the thundering of hooves behind him, and now he needed to hear one more set. Frothing at the mouth from the heat, and barely breathing with his focus on the win, there for the taking.
He felt a tightening on the reins and a sharp pull back from his jockey, the surprise of it alone made him falter. The announcer rang out, "Number 23! Number 23, Take A Gamble, wins!" Shock seeped through Triomphe as he came to a stop. There was a pat from his jockey; he barely felt it. He was taken from the track, same as all the others. In the winner's circle stood that black stallion. Off to the side, Take A Gamble's owner smirked, and stood ready with an envelope in their hand. Triomphe's jockey hopped down, carelessly tossing the reins to his owners. Anger coursed through Triomphe's veins as he watched the jockey take the envelope from the winning owner, a sick smile covering his traitorous face.
Extension may be given if some are struggling to complete in time.
