→Nyancat's 100 One-Shot Challenge←

[Polar Kitten]

The Challenge
The 100 one-shot challenge is a writing challenge made by I'm Not The Only One. Here is the original thread. link

A one-shot is a shory story that is usually not continued.

The Guidelines
→ There is no time limit! Complete one-shots whenever you want, take a break as long as you like
- I'm going to put a minimum of 750 words per one-shot. Especially in this section of the forum, we're all writers here, I feel we should try and extend ourselves! There is no maximum.

→ It is not a competition! This is a challenge, so it's at your own pace. But the fun part about doing it with people is getting support c:

→ Please post here if you would like to join, and as you update! (Make your own thread though)

→ Please do the themes in order!

→ Interpret all the themes however you like! It can be fan-fiction, your own, trying to get to know your characters better by putting them in a situation, a story told in lots of short stories, however you want to do it!

The Themes
injured ≡ sinking ≡ father ≡ exploit ≡ boredom ≡ art of conversation ≡ take your best shot ≡ creativity ≡ flash ≡ puzzling words ≡ ill ≡ skeleton ≡ nothing ≡ servitude ≡ possibilities ≡ weightless ≡ just say it ≡ last words ≡ immature ≡ blazing ≡ help ≡ presence ≡ because ≡ forced ≡ reversed ≡ cast away ≡ emotions ≡ questions ≡ wishing ≡ crackling ≡ curl up ≡ together ≡ look again ≡ brief ≡ space ≡ special ≡ jinx ≡ stop fussing ≡ cozy ≡ breaking ≡ either or ≡ tell me a story ≡ waiting ≡ willpower ≡ who am i? ≡ idol ≡ unseen ≡ just try ≡ for me? ≡ your choice! ≡ Useful ≡ Treasure ≡ Ceremony ≡ Lightning ≡ Protection ≡ Stay With Me ≡ Mint ≡ Rescue ≡ Dominant ≡ Thief ≡ Deserter ≡ Stolen ≡ Sarcasm ≡ Darling ≡ How Much is too Much? ≡ Over ≡ Try Again ≡ Hidden ≡ Forgotten ≡ The First Time ≡ Aging ≡ Soldiers ≡ Justice ≡ Tread Carefully ≡ One False Step ≡ Connection ≡ Mess ≡ It Can't Be ≡ In Due Time ≡ Awake ≡ Delicious ≡ Fallen ≡ Trickery ≡ Around the Bend ≡ Well Traveled ≡ Choices ≡ Surplus ≡ Rough ≡ If ≡ Friend ≡ Found Not Lost ≡ Spiral ≡ Deep ≡ I Could ≡ Have ≡ Desirable ≡ Resentment ≡ Build Up ≡ Inch by Inch ≡ Dilemma ≡ Blue Sky

[Polar Kitten]

#1: Injured

Eric Jones
Basketball tryouts were in a week. I was practicing my 3-point shots with my friends afterschool, in the basketball court at the Oceanwood City public park. They were great players, but not the kind that you'd see on the school's team. It was getting dark, so I rode my bike home.

As I peddled down the sidewalk, I saw Coach Mark, the basketball coach, walking his dog. It was one of those pitbulls, the kind that scare me the most. The pitbull snarled at me, its sharp fangs dripping with drool. Coach Mark glanced my way. "So, Jones. Ya tryin' out for basketball?"

I pushed the brakes, and stopped next to him. I was careful to not get too close to the pitbull. "Yeah. Next Friday at four thirty, right?"

"You got it. I can't wait to see you on the team. You're not too bad at basketball, kid."

"Thanks, Coach. Goodnight!" I shouted as I mounted my bike and rode away.

The next day was Saturday, and I was on my way to the park because I had left my jacket there last night. I lived in a hilly city at that time. Riding up the the hills was tough, but going down takes almost no effort. Speeding down the hills is a thrilling sensation. You feel the wind in your hair, your stomach flips, and you feel like you're about to lift off the ground and fly away. I sped up so that I could get home before lunch. The top of the next hill was getting close, so I peddled at full speed.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on the sidewalk in pain. My bike's handlebars and front tire were on top of my legs. I don't know what I was thinking, going so fast down a hill. My bike had hit a small rock and I flipped over. My helmet protected me, but I hadn't been wearing knee pads at that time. My knees were scratched badly, and my ankle hurt like crazy. Luckily, my Mom found me and called the ambulance.

I arrived at the hospital around noon, and they hooked me up to some complicated machine. I think it measured blood or something, but I'm not sure. I sat in the bed for awhile, while they treated the wounds on my legs and knees. It turned out that I had sprained my ankle. Why did this have to happen? Now how can I try out for the school basketball team, or even play basketball?

The doctor wrapped my foot in a tight, black cast and he taught me how to use crutches. I walked around using them while my parents talked about medical insurance. I was supposed to have the cast on for a long time, so I didn't have a chance at playing at the basketball tryouts. Or any other sports. I could barely do anything while wearing my crutches. My parents said I could take the bus to school, so I didn't need to ride my bike.

After a while, I was able to accept the fact that I couldn't play amy sports. I attended the tryouts to watch the players, but I felt a weight in my stomach that reminded me of the fact that I couldn't play. I felt so useless, and insignificant... But I had to accept the harsh truth. Life isn't perfect.

Six weeks later, I was at the opening game for the school basketball season. My ankle had healed, and I was able to walk and run on my own. I played basketball with my friends afterschool, but I was still pretty bummed out about not making it to the tryouts. I sat in the bleachers next to my friend, Justin, and waited for the game to begin. But before it did, the coach shouted my name. "Eric? Eric Jones? Could you come over here for a second?"

I gulped. What had I done to get on his bad side? "Comming." I mumbled. I looked back at Justin to see if he knew what was going on, but he just shrugged.

"Yes Coach Mark?" I said when I made it through the audience to the bottom of the bleachers.

"You missed tryouts because of that ankle of yours, but now I see ya playin' afterschool with your friends. You're pretty good, kid. How would you like to join the team?"

I was shocked. I never knew someone like Coach Mark could be that nice. "That would be great!" I responded happily.

"Good," he replied. "Here's a jersy, you're number 11. You're gonna play offense. We're startig soon, so change fast."

"Ok. Thanks, Coach Mark!"

"No problem, kid."