[JARHEAD]

Title: RUSKA
Author note: This is not a literal piece. I wanted to do something that doesn’t mean to literally have wings, or to grow them in some sense, but in a more hidden, metaphorical sense that will make, well… no sense!

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She hated the outfits and the makeup and the hairdo’s. She hated the crowds and the judges and her coach, and even all the praise her parents gave her. If anything, she wanted to be left alone to just do it. To feel the weightlessness of her movements, the individual apparatus’ in her hands, lighter than feathers.
When she dropped it she would pick it up, go back to the start. Repeat, spice it up a little. Push herself just that little bit more.

“Ruska, you cannot think to win this without posture,” her coach said. “Posture, girl, head up!”

For a moment Ruska planned to ignore him and go back, rinse, repeat. But she didn’t have the energy to defy him today. “Yes, Robby.” She returned to the corner of the mat and wrapped the end of the ribbon around her wrists, poising her foot over the handle on the floor.

Robby folded his arms across his chest. “It’s fine, Ruska. I don’t know why they entered you in the competition this time, really I don’t.”

“Neither do I,” Ruska sighed, releasing herself from her pose and wrapping the ribbon up neatly. “I don’t want to, either. I told them.” She slipped her shoes on and pulled on her soft cotton jacket, zipping it up. As she left she gave Robby a simple smile.

He smiled back and touched her shoulder reassuringly. “That’s not saying you aren’t good, you know. You are amazing, but…you don’t care.” The smile deteriorated into a frown. Before Ruska could respond, he’d already gone to lock the equipment room. It was as if he knew what she’d have said back to him, and didn’t want to hear it.

Ruska decided not to fight her corner this time, and left the gymnasium without a word. The sky was darkening and she picked up her pace, gripping her small bag tighter.

Home was a sweet two-storey house, neat and tidy both inside and out. The lawn was always cut, the roses trimmed and the small frog ornament was always in a perfect position alongside the path. It had its own garage, the door painted a deep green that was renewed every six months or so.
The living room light was on, and Ruska spied her mother and father sitting down, watching TV.

When she stepped in through the door, her parents greeted her simultaneously. Her mother got up and hugged her lightly, leading her into the living room.

“I hope you had a good time, honey. Dinner’s in the kitchen, it might need a little bit of re-heating,” she said in a fuss.

Ruska gave her dad a humoured smile, and he did the same.

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Her blue ribbon hung up on her wall, as a reminder. Practice. Always more practice. Ruska didn’t even know why she’d taken up rhythmic gymnastics. She was wholly indifferent to it. Good at it, but indifferent. Out of all the apparatus, she enjoyed the ribbon the most. The hoop annoyed her, the clubs were easy to mess up, an d the ball was very inartistic for a sport so creative.

The ribbon was just a beautiful thing, with so many options. But she didn’t want to be competitive. She just loved the feeling of a lightweight ribbon making hypnotic patterns in the air with little effort at all. She loved all of the precision and the elegance require by both the apparatus and the gymnast. It was just so much different to the other clumsy pieces.

It seemed to fly on its own, it had it's own thoughts and wishes. And then again, so did she.

Ruska closed her eyes and tried not to think too hard. She could get out of the competition, she knew it. It just meant she'd disappoint her family and her coach again. But that didn't matter.

All she wanted was to be left alone with her ribbon to fly.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[THE TRUE JIN]

updated

+ 20 points. Please update your points tracker.

You took a different approach, and it went about quite well.