"On your marks" bellowed the voice I'd waited years to hear.  These simple words instantaneously snapped me back into reality.  The scent of fear wafted though the air, a great deal of that fear my own.  Adrenaline travelled down my spine.  I gaze at my opponents, they look like a pride of starving lions ready to attack.

The thought of lions brought me nicely back to my home in Jamaica where my parents would be tensely watching my every move right this minute.  I touch my grandma's necklace, I feel a surge of happiness travel through my finger levitating me right up to heaven with her.  Her last words were still fresh in my head, "you can do it" she whispered in a feeble voice from her hospital bed.  I replay the memory over and over again until it's replaced by one of me and my father jogging one of the many scenic roads from my home country.  I'm drenched in a cold sweat as the minutes go by.  My head throbs with pain at the thought of losing.  Finally the moment I've been awaiting all my life comes, the starting pistol fires.

By, Jemma, Room 21