Gordon enjoys a hobby that
doesn't involve water.
It was the
sort of stillness that drove him mad.
the stillness of the waves, the gentle motions of water and
the life beneath the surface, nor the silence of a fire late
at night could compare to this. It was beautiful-but all too
He wiped a
bead of sweat from his brow. His sweater was itching--that
colour of blue really did nothing for him, he despaired. The
itch and the heat didn't help one bit, but it was the
customary gear for today's work.
got such joy from this, too.
behind him, feeling cold metal slide against his hand. This
couldn't fail him-it hadn't before, in all his times of need,
and it couldn't now. Sweat from his hand slid along the cool
surface, making it hard to get a grip on the the handle. He
swallowed slowly, feeling far too tense.
relax, Gordon-my-boy, and it'll all work out in the end. You
know the score.
thought did nothing to relax him. In fact, the beads of sweat
merely conferred with one another on his skin--where to meet
up, the best angle to get into his eye...
Gordon! We don't have all day!", He could hear Scott calling
and he sucked in a breath. Good ol' impatient Scott.
on his trademark smile again, and made up his mind right then.
There would be no more holding back-who knew the costs if he
did? The metal caught the light as he raised his arms--
the shot rang out, breaking the summer wind.
felt his eyes widen as he witnessed what he had unleashed,
listening to the pitches and volleys of the ricochet. There
was only one thing to say to that.
Gordon thought with a smirk.
Beach would forever rue the day that Gordon Tracy came to golf.