An Unlucky Luck

“Everything in life is luck.“ - Donald Trump

As I passed my mum on my way out the front door, she whispered to me two words, “Good luck!”

Good luck! The two words floated in my mind phantom-like, as my quivering fingers struggled with my overly frayed shoelace despite being under the warm sunlight. A dull, heavy pounding rang through my frame as I stood up, despite the fact I had not been running… not yet at least.

Luck. An abstract, intangible concept, yet it was all we had since the day dad left and it was just the two of us. Luck was what kept the crack in the ceiling big enough to soak the carpet on a particularly wet night but small enough for the building to remain standing. Luck was what kept the 30-year-old Toyota, rusted to the state of debris, still sturdy enough to endure a 100km journey every day. Luck was what allowed a not-so-practical mum and an averagely bright teenage girl to live on in this large uncertain world, all on our own alone. Not quite live, but at least survive.

It was luck that gave me a second chance…to change my life, to get the higher education my parents were denied. I only needed to do one thing- come first in the marathon.

***

I braced myself for the signal to start running, hoping that the gunshot will still be audible over the sound of my irrepressible heartbeat and puffing chest. The start line seemed to stretch out endlessly though I knew there could not be more than fifty contestants in total. Both sides of the track were lined with loud cheering crowds, their cacophonous cries, laughter and chants causing a painful ringing in my ears and I heartily hoped that they would stop.

To my left was a burly girl whose demeanour was so calm and collected that she gave off the impression that running a marathon was as easy for her as walking. To my right stood another girl, thin yet firmly built like a gymnast, her attractive body enhanced by the expensive branded fitness wear she seemed to be showing off. “This is the only girl you should be concerned with” was my coach’s warning in our last training session. Hailing from an exceedingly wealthy family, her parents had hired her the top runners in the world to coach her since she was 10 and bought her the highest quality fitness equipment to help her train… or so the rumours went.

Seeing my gaze, she swirled her head around gracefully to look at me with those cold, sneering amber eyes. “I wish you luck!” she said in a sweet yet dimly mocking tone. In spite of my revulsion of her, I wanted to return her blessing, as a sign of courtesy. Yet when I opened my mouth, my throat was strangely dry and hollow and against all my efforts, no sound would emerge from my numb larynx.

All around me, the deafening cheers of supporters blared, and all inside me were the violent pulses that shook my entire frame. Under the flaring glow of the sun which caused my face to burn and perspire with sweat, my vision blurred and a sudden fear overcame me as I realised I might pass out. You need to do this! You need to win this… I screamed to myself inside my head. This is your chance! I silently begged, struggling against my immensely heavy eyelids and fading consciousness, your last chance… for you and mum… your only chance…

In the distance, a loud piercing shot ran out and my body is suddenly jolted awake.

***

3 hours….4 hours… I had long lost track of time.

Since the gunshot had been fired and I regained control over my body, I had only one thing in mind- the finish line.

Around me, people thickened, people thinned, a person overtook me, another lagged behind, trees blurred past, fields blazed by, streams went by, buildings whizzed away. My mind was oblivious to everything. I did not know how long I have run for, how far I have run, how the other competitors were doing. A powerful force seemed to have run through my body, forcing me to stay in action despite my drenched upper body and sensation-less lower body. It was as if my legs were my respirators and that as soon as I paused, I would suffocate and all my hopes and aspirations would dissipate into nothingness.

Come on, keep it up, keep going…

A quiet ache had dispersed across my body, gradually building up into an excruciating pain.

Not far to go, not far…

The rising sun had reached a scorching heat. Under the shade-less direct shine of sunlight, my head became a sweltering candle, burning furiously, wax dripping down its sides and wick approaching closer to the end with each passing minute-

Please don’t burn out… nearly there… keep going… just a little bit further…

Eyes blurred by perspiration, head churning with an agonising ache, chest burning furiously from lack of oxygen... Yet, through my hazy vision, in the distance, I can just make out what appears to be the finish line. An overwhelming thrill pulsated from my head down to my feet.

It’s finally there! I’m finally here! I’ve done it! It’s done! I can escape the crumbling apartment, can say goodbye to that decrepit car, can break free from my monotonous austere life! At last, I’ve regained control over my life, we no longer have to rely on luck! But no-

From amid the trees, a figure emerged ahead… It was the girl with the expensive fitness wear, bright yellow Alala shorts prominently standing out against the green surroundings.

How did she overtake me? She must have taken a short cut; one that I’ve missed… and she’s nearly at the finish line! Out of luck! But, one more bridge to go, I might still catch up! The bridge, the brid…

***

My eyelid are too heavy to open and my head is too light to grasp what is happening around me. Voices, panicking and frightened; feet, rushing to and fro.

What has happened? Where am I?

Then, a more pressing issue comes to mind-

The race! Who won?

Irritation floods my mind at being stuck in the middle ground between the conscious and unconscious realm. I can hear the commotion around me but not move any parts of my body. After fruitlessly attempting to open my eyelids, I give up and instead try to hear what the voices are saying yet I can only catch broken snippets that make no sense.

“…completely unexpected…yes we had no idea… think one’s unconscious, the other unsure…” I sense someone approaching me and almost immediately know what will happen next. As the sharp sting of the thin needle enters my arm, I hear a terrifying scream pierce through the air and am so relieved to drift out of consciousness.

***

When my eyelids next flicker open, I am shocked and confused by the great whiteness around me. I am lying on a bed that is not my own and a clicking sound rings intermittently from a machine beside me. A screen suspended in the air in the corner of the room has colourful scraggly lines running across it like a toddler’s colouring-in-book.

Sudden realisation hits me, wait, am I in a…

The door opens and in walks a stranger in a white coat and behind him is…

“MUM!” I cry jolting up, yet an immense pain forces me to lie back down.

Tear welling in her eyes, mum rushes to my side, clutching my hand with a too firm grip as she breaks down in a torrent of sobs.

“Mum what’s wrong?” I demand, scared by her misery. “I’m not dying am I?”

She shakes and wails so violently I cannot make out anything she is trying to say but her furiously shaking of her head manages to calm my worst of fears.

Then I remember something else almost equally important.

“The race… what happened? Who won?”

Still not having composed herself, I thought that I would not receive a reply. However, to my surprise, mum shoves something towards me with her quivering hands. Some sort of paper… the newspaper! “But why…” I open my mouth but then realise I need to ask no more. Staring up at me on the front page is the jarring headline, “Tragedy Befalls High School Marathon”, ensued by a smaller secondary headline, “Collapsing Bridge Causes 1 Death”. Heartbeat speeding up, my eyes trails down the page until they rests upon a pair of bright yellow Alala shorts amid a tangle of undergrowth.

Horror sweeps over me and I am just about to say something when mum shoves something else into my palms. This time, it is a small white envelope stamped with a crested emblem. I do not know if I should feel happy or sad and I do not know if I want to read anything, so I put the envelope aside on the bedside table. Then without warning, I burst out into mirthless laughter, alarming mum who looks at me as if I have just gone mad.

Luck, I think to myself.

Though good luck is more desirable, it was bad luck that saved me at the end. A quote by Cormac McCarthy came popping into my head.

“You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.”