Start your story with:  “They were sent from the gates…”

 

Approx 950 words

 

And the Winner is….

(A True Story)

 

©2004 by W. E. Lopez

 

They were sent from the gates as though gladiators into combat, but not even the blood fest of Emperor Trajan featured such a vast armada of troops.  The largest spectacle held in ancient Rome featured 5,000 pairs fighting to the death for the entertainment of the Roman Citizens.  On this occasion, more than 300 million would struggle for the prize of life, though there could be but one winner.  On rare occasions, perhaps one out of 300 struggles would result in two winners.  Even rarer, there might be three or four.  Still, at least 300 million of them would die within the next 12 to 48 hours!

As if a hundred thousand runnings of the New York Marathon were held as a single event, they burst from the gates shoulder to shoulder, fighting for position in the lead, following the blind imperative to survive at all costs as they raced toward oblivion for most, victory for one or two.

The marathon runners pushed, shoved, and jostled each other as they coursed through the streets, the arteries and veins of their nation.  Runners fell and were trampled, their death scarcely noticed.  Or they took a wrong turn, only to meet a vain-glorious death for their stupidity.  Nature does not reward failure, only the strongest and most aggressive could win; only the fittest would have a chance at surviving.

The dead and dying began to fall by the way, creating obstacles to those behind with their very bodies.  In their weakness, they fell and condemned to death millions behind them simply because their accumulated corpses blocked the way.  There is no court of appeal in the struggle of life.  There are no rules of sportsman like conduct.  There are only winners, and millions of also-rans.

The lead runner could not help himself as he fought for the prize.  You could give him a name.  You could call him George, or Sam, or Bob or Bill.  You could call him Susan, or Trish, or Donna or Christine.  He or she would not stop to answer you, for there was but one goal; win the race and live.  You could give them all names, perhaps.  You might even count them.  If you had the computer-like ability to count 1,000 of them each minute of every hour of every day, you would still be counting seven months from now.  By that time, only the winner would remain to answer his name.

Still he ran and gave no thought to the hundreds of millions lying behind him, for he had but one task, one goal, he had to survive.  There were no medals of gold, silver, or bronze.  There was only life or death.

There was no city, no state, and no regional or national championship.  There was only life or death.

There were no lucrative sponsor endorsements with multi-million dollar bonuses.  There were no movie contracts, no book deals; there was only life or death.

There were no ribbons or T-shirts and honorable mentions to make the runners feel good having run the race.  There was only the winner, and the hundreds of millions dead.

There were no second chances, no rematches, and no instant-replays.  The lead runner had one opportunity and only one.  If he muffed it, someone else would seize the prize and he would die with no one to mark the flicker of his existence.

Blindly he ran in the darkness without the faintest glimmer to guide him.  He ran on instinct, for there were no sights or sounds, no road signs or course markers.  There were no cheering crowds shoving Gatorade into his outstretched hand as he ran.  There were no photographers or TV news crews to mark the progress of his passing, for he struggled alone, invisible among the millions.  He could easily have given up and lost, with no one to boo him, no one mark the end of his struggle by turning their thumb down.  He could have died and it would have mattered to no one but himself.

When his body protested at the pain and stress, he could have paused to regain his breath, and he could have died.  He could have given his senses a break from the impossible task of maintaining maximum alertness and maximum cunning, and he could have died.  At times, the struggle may have seemed beyond endurance, but the alternative was death, and so he drove on, and on, until the prize was before him.

But it was like a solid wall, blocking him from the ultimate goal, preventing him the thrill of victory.  Tired as he was, he assaulted the wall, battering it with all his body and feeling, unmindful of the terrible pain it must be causing him.  Others reached the wall and threw themselves into the assault, but only the first would win.  When the first had breached the wall and claimed the prize, the wall would grow thicker, harder, and would finally be impenetrable.

He pounded and battered using his head when he had to, and finally he broke through the wall which immediately closed behind him, sealing the fate of the millions who had not fought as hard and who had succumbed to weakness.  The others would be lost to eternity while the most vicious and aggressive of the hundreds of millions would live.  That is the imperative of nature.  The singers, the painters, the poets, those who live by gentleness and a desire to please others cannot live without the cooperation and forbearance of the strong.

And he had trampled over all of them.  With only aggressiveness and iron will to drive him on, the tiny sperm had bested all adversaries and fertilized the egg.