Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Drabbles
His heart skids a little, a brief moment of fear when his feet leave the ice with one last faint scratch of blade. Surely he must fall, tumble down, heavy like a stone, crash back down onto the ice... He’s tried before, a hundred times, but this is different, this time it matters, with the coach’s watchful eyes on him – a real coach!
He leaps up, feels gravity tug at his limbs, briefly, only briefly, and then there it is – he’s soaring through the air, as if somebody attached invisible strings to the ceiling and hung him from them. He feels his heart thunder in his chest when he crosses his arms in front of it, tight and close as if he was cold, when, in fact, he’s never felt warmer.
One rotation, another half, and he’s coming down, not like a stone, but like one of those planes that can land on anything, gliding across water or snow or ice, secure and safe. His blade touches the ice with a soft thud, kisses it, the edge drawing a perfect smooth arch into the mirror-like surface.
He glides out, then comes to a halt, head bowed and a flutter of anxiety in his belly. He looks up, expectant, hopeful...
“I’ll take him,” the coach – Mrs Hill – says to his mom. Johnny’s heart leaps, beating its wings, and rises up, higher and higher toward dreams spun of gold. She – his coach! – smiles, a warm, reassuring smile, and it feels like... like flying.