2025-04-24, 01:04 AM - Word count:
(This post was last modified: 2025-04-24, 01:08 AM by denisbigfan1.)
On the training ground, the sun gilded the skin of Goodrick Whitewood, the Seoul Mythic player formerly known as Badrick Blackwood. He was lacing up his cleats real slow, savoring the moment.
"Aight, aight, mi see yuh," he laughed as a butterfly kept landing on his ball, doing some silly footwork just to entertain the crowd of people who had gathered to watch him train.
Over by the fence, neighborhood kids watched with lollipop sticks poking from their mouths.
"Bwoy Mr. Whitewood!" one yelled, "How yuh foot so magic so?"
Goodrick just grinned, sweat dripping down his face. "A nuh magic, likkle man, jus' practice an' good mind." He popped a half-melted strawberry lollipop in his mouth as he jogged backwards.
As the sun dipped low near the end of the day, Goodrick collapsed on the grass exhausted but happy.
"Mi swear mi see rainbow," he exclaimed, the force of his pure patwah now purifying the air particles in front of him rather than destroying them. He walked home with just his cleats dangling from his fingertips. He was glowing with a newfound humility - his days of being a raucous bandit were behind him, and he was all the happier for it.
"Tomorrow gwine be even sweeter," he told the butterflies. They whispered back at him in glee. On-lookers were amazed by the bright glow which Goodrick has seemed to exhume from the depths of his conscience.
"Aight, aight, mi see yuh," he laughed as a butterfly kept landing on his ball, doing some silly footwork just to entertain the crowd of people who had gathered to watch him train.
Over by the fence, neighborhood kids watched with lollipop sticks poking from their mouths.
"Bwoy Mr. Whitewood!" one yelled, "How yuh foot so magic so?"
Goodrick just grinned, sweat dripping down his face. "A nuh magic, likkle man, jus' practice an' good mind." He popped a half-melted strawberry lollipop in his mouth as he jogged backwards.
As the sun dipped low near the end of the day, Goodrick collapsed on the grass exhausted but happy.
"Mi swear mi see rainbow," he exclaimed, the force of his pure patwah now purifying the air particles in front of him rather than destroying them. He walked home with just his cleats dangling from his fingertips. He was glowing with a newfound humility - his days of being a raucous bandit were behind him, and he was all the happier for it.
"Tomorrow gwine be even sweeter," he told the butterflies. They whispered back at him in glee. On-lookers were amazed by the bright glow which Goodrick has seemed to exhume from the depths of his conscience.
