One Last Clean Sheet


I'm just this guy, you know?

To expand on that, I am also the following...

- A former ficly member who is 38 years old and is schizoaffective (depressive type)

- Into creating languages and fantasy worlds from scratch

- A listener of audiobooks & good tunes

- Always too hard on myself

Two more yards until freedom, two more yards and this past year would be worth all the pain and humiliation.

I could feel the burn in my knees as I stood up. It wasn't anything that I hadn't felt before but this time I knew that the amount of give my knees had left meant the world to my team.

All I needed was one more clean sheet and my team wouldn't face relegation in the league. If I let even one goal in then it would be on my head that we finished second this year. My head and only my head.

My team on the field had done so much work this year getting us up into first place and my position as goalie was a relatively easy one. If they keep it out of your zone then there is only so much you can control after all. The errant ball here and there that you had to block and that was it.

The whole season it had been up to them and now it seemed like it was more up to me than anything else.

I hunched down as the ball came onto our side of the field.

I was ready. For anything, it felt like.

Certainly for them.


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Author's prompt text:

Opening line was a prompt from a friend


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