Piercing panic penetrated through my body. The deadly footsteps of my rival behind me whom was hungry for triumph I was in my final lap of the Olympic games that decided everything. The Lactic acid that sizzled through my aching muscles was the ramification of fatigue. I gritted my teeth, I needed to stay in the lead or my county would suffer, Impelling Russia to be the center of world war 11. I felt myself falling, falling behind my nemesis just as the finish line came into view. My dream that was once the joyous leafs of autumn was now falling from the trees turning into drab winter leafs. I am second. The unforgiving colour of silver. My heart of gold shifted to grey. Russia was now obligated to be the center of world war 11. My sanctuary where I grew up would now be a derelict mass filled with war. My soul palpitating with sorrow. My home, a Warfield?