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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Drama
- Published: 11/28/2020
Race Against Time
Born 1948, F, from Epping. Essex, United KingdomRace against time
By Kristin Dockar
DJ bent his head down to light a cigarette. He was hoping that his hat, pulled down low, was hiding his face. He didn’t know either of the men he was sitting between, but he did know that it was safer for him to be enclosed. He shifted on the concrete seating and looked over to the racetrack. He certainly wasn’t interested in striking up any conversations.
The 2.40 Champion Hurdles Race was due to start in 10 minutes. Harry and the boys would be somewhere in the crowd and they would be looking for him.
He looked down, and studied the race card carefully, reading again all the details of the horse he had picked to win. He had picked out ‘Dark Horse’ and managed to scrape together £100 to place a bet. He had got odds of 25 to 1 which meant he had the chance of winning £2,500.
Dark House had been placed in his last three races. The horse was with a good trainer and, DJ hoped, a competent jockey. He was sure his life depended on this horse winning.
His skinny frame shook with cold but also fear, and he wished he had worn a coat. November was not a good time to be sitting outdoors in a thin jumper. Hands shaking, he lifted his cigarette and took another deep drag. Lifting his head slightly, he stared down at the starting post where the riders were lining up. He was beyond terrified. Two grand he owed Harry. How had it come to this? He saw his stained fingers and his bitten nails and wondered if a time would ever come when he would end the cycle of losing money. He had been in trouble before with the money lenders but never as bad as this.
The crowd began to rustle, the mood changing to one of tension and excitement. The starting bell rang, and the crowd rose as one and roared. DJ glanced at people in the crowd and saw they were happy, excited and none of them looked like him, terrified.
‘They’re off’ bellowed the announcer and the thud of hooves could be heard reverberating on the ground. The crowd moved and rustled around DJ and voices became louder as the punters roared their horse on. The noise was building to a greater crescendo as the horses approached the half-way mark. People were clapping and fists were raised. Race cards were waved in the air.
DJ’s heart was thumping so hard he thought he was going to be sick. The fear rose as the horses ran on. In that moment he glanced around and through a gap in the heaving crowd, he suddenly saw Harry flanked by two of his men. Harry looked directly at DJ and mockingly raised his hat, and then in one fluid movement he drew his fingers across his throat.
DJ stood; his gaze fixed now on the last furlong. Dark Horse was in third place but coming on strongly. His jockey urging him on with his knees but not using the whip. As the crowd surged and roared, DJ felt his legs begin to weaken. Dark Horse was up into second place.
He began to roar, willing the horse on. He blinked and felt tears, blinked again. Dark Horse had won.
He fell back down on to the hard-concrete seat and was violently sick. People moved quickly away.
‘Drunk’ he heard somebody mutter.
‘How disgusting’ said another.
But he did not care. He was saved. His bet would bring in £3k. He waited quietly now for Harry to come down the steps of the Grandstand. He knew what would happen. They would walk him over to the Bookies to collect his winnings, and if he was lucky that would be an end to it.
Race Against Time(Kristin Dockar)
Race against time
By Kristin Dockar
DJ bent his head down to light a cigarette. He was hoping that his hat, pulled down low, was hiding his face. He didn’t know either of the men he was sitting between, but he did know that it was safer for him to be enclosed. He shifted on the concrete seating and looked over to the racetrack. He certainly wasn’t interested in striking up any conversations.
The 2.40 Champion Hurdles Race was due to start in 10 minutes. Harry and the boys would be somewhere in the crowd and they would be looking for him.
He looked down, and studied the race card carefully, reading again all the details of the horse he had picked to win. He had picked out ‘Dark Horse’ and managed to scrape together £100 to place a bet. He had got odds of 25 to 1 which meant he had the chance of winning £2,500.
Dark House had been placed in his last three races. The horse was with a good trainer and, DJ hoped, a competent jockey. He was sure his life depended on this horse winning.
His skinny frame shook with cold but also fear, and he wished he had worn a coat. November was not a good time to be sitting outdoors in a thin jumper. Hands shaking, he lifted his cigarette and took another deep drag. Lifting his head slightly, he stared down at the starting post where the riders were lining up. He was beyond terrified. Two grand he owed Harry. How had it come to this? He saw his stained fingers and his bitten nails and wondered if a time would ever come when he would end the cycle of losing money. He had been in trouble before with the money lenders but never as bad as this.
The crowd began to rustle, the mood changing to one of tension and excitement. The starting bell rang, and the crowd rose as one and roared. DJ glanced at people in the crowd and saw they were happy, excited and none of them looked like him, terrified.
‘They’re off’ bellowed the announcer and the thud of hooves could be heard reverberating on the ground. The crowd moved and rustled around DJ and voices became louder as the punters roared their horse on. The noise was building to a greater crescendo as the horses approached the half-way mark. People were clapping and fists were raised. Race cards were waved in the air.
DJ’s heart was thumping so hard he thought he was going to be sick. The fear rose as the horses ran on. In that moment he glanced around and through a gap in the heaving crowd, he suddenly saw Harry flanked by two of his men. Harry looked directly at DJ and mockingly raised his hat, and then in one fluid movement he drew his fingers across his throat.
DJ stood; his gaze fixed now on the last furlong. Dark Horse was in third place but coming on strongly. His jockey urging him on with his knees but not using the whip. As the crowd surged and roared, DJ felt his legs begin to weaken. Dark Horse was up into second place.
He began to roar, willing the horse on. He blinked and felt tears, blinked again. Dark Horse had won.
He fell back down on to the hard-concrete seat and was violently sick. People moved quickly away.
‘Drunk’ he heard somebody mutter.
‘How disgusting’ said another.
But he did not care. He was saved. His bet would bring in £3k. He waited quietly now for Harry to come down the steps of the Grandstand. He knew what would happen. They would walk him over to the Bookies to collect his winnings, and if he was lucky that would be an end to it.
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Kristin Dockar
11/29/2020Thank you Gail. People might wonder how I know so much about horse racing.......My mum loved to have a bet, so I grew up learning about that!!
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