The Last Birdie
I caught a glimpse of it. The drop of sweat that took a leap of faith plummeted into the green freshly cut grass was now gone forever from sight, eclipsed in the vast grassland that resemble a roll of never-ending carpet. Finally the trickling sensation on my crested up forehead vanished. However, in just a few moments, I was again annoyed and sighed with frustration, a sulky displeased look hung on my face. The gushing emotion almost made me scream my lungs out. All there was to be blamed was the all mighty sun. A picture myself popped up in my mind at that instance. A watering can, with never ending sweat spouting; soaking my gravity defying hair. In the midst of my inner commotion, I was glad to see the white, round spherical figure sitting perfectly on lofted ground. Now I had an advantage, I whispered silently to myself, grinning from ear to ear. It was a joyous day for me after all. Little that I know that my cheekiness was about to backfire on myself.
Recalling to the start of the bright and cheerful morning, I could still feel the paradisiacal weather in the back of my mind. The wind stroked my face like a mother’s touch on a new born. The clouds were sprucely piled into clumps, forming an imaginary shape that was only visible to the individual himself. The sun was harmonious and tranquility filled the sweet smelling air. It gave out a shimmer that occupied the entire golf course with a magical fairy tail like color. It was rare that golfers could get a setting as dazzling and breathtaking as this. How could a paradise transform into a furnace in a few hours? The fact that I actually made it to the 18th hole was a miracle.
It was the last long iron shot of the day. The determinant shot, the shot that could reserve an enormous amount of pressure on my opponent. The shot that could make him panic, distracted and make a mistake. This was a tight game; I just had to win this hole and all my time, effort and energy spent at the driving range sending ball after ball screaming into the furry blanket of rich blue sky would be worth it.
I estimated the distance from my ball to the pin and pulled out my five iron from my golf bag. I took my time, going through the routine practice swing over and over again in my mind; it could have reached a hundredth time when I finally had the courage to take the shot. My heart was hammering my chest as though eager to break free from the evil grasp of my ribcage. All I could hear was the thumping sound of horse hoofs on a hard packed uneven dirt road. I was scared, frightened by the expectations from everyone. I was hoping silently to myself not to repeat the same incident like on my first grade class self-introduction session. The wetness of my pants could still be felt till today. The tension on my brain and the heat was killing me. I could actually feel steam slowly being emitted from my ears. Or was I imagining? I could not tell.
I took my stance, aiming carefully to the hole. Silence filled the entire golf course and concentration was my only key to executing the shot. It was all down to this moment. I gripped my legs firmly to the ground, loosened my hips and turned my arms and shoulder back. With full strength I swung through. The moment the club sliced through the lush glistening patch of grass, creating a scent of freshly cut grass, the pungent aroma filled the air. I could feel everything travelling through space in slow motion. God would determine my fate. My ball rocketed up high into the bright sky. I had hit it perfectly. I squinted frantically in search of my ball’s flight path. As I had expected, my ball was straight and precise to the direction I had aimed. All eyes were set on the ball.
I saw them from afar. The flocks of pretty birds were