This was initially written for Troll Chronicles: III but my old laptop fried so that's the end of that. I decided to rewrite it while I was bored at school so here it iz.
“It evolved from a frivolous purchase to being my life.” - Erik Bond
'Grow Home' was a universal sensation. Born on Earth, the game effortlessly reached over to millions of other galaxies and the borders of the universe. From kindergarten to university, students analyzed the game's engine meticulously and studied vine psychology in hopes one day they could possibly run just like the world's number one athlete, Erik. This man was the game's pioneer, he was the first to see immense potential in the game. Ever since the game's humble beginnings, Erik challenged the limits of time within the game even when odds were against him. He was undoubtedly the greatest of all time.
The Galaxy Olympics was an event held every 2 years which gathered the world's 'Grow Home' elite. The event would invite one representative from every galaxy and the Milky Way's runner was obviously Erik. It was an important occasion, a universal holiday even. Players would train and train only sleeping on their 25th hour for 2 years to earn the prestigious title of “Best in The World”. However, Erik had won the last 9 events and did not look like this trend was going to halt any time soon. Nonetheless, players continued with persistent training in hopes they might get a spot on the podium. One player in particular seemed to display the most potential and went by the moniker of Titomakanijr who hailed from the distant Sculptor Galaxy. He possessed a unique verve for the game and had a play style similar to Erik's. If there was anyone who could steal the title this year, it was Titomakanijr.
After weeks of qualifying and thrilling matches, it all dwindled down to the top eight. The finals were held on a circular plane engulfed by a scintillating sphere of blue that the whole word could spectate through. The arena was surrounded by the heavy depths of black and the chattering stars who were excited for the final. Each player was slowly raised by a platform that came from under the plane. Erik sported a cinnabar jacket with the collar high up brushing against his jaw. A few white stripes dashed down the red to his bitter black track pants. It extended to his pristine pair of white sneakers that effused affluence. Various sponsors like Red Bull and Pop Tarts were also etched on his attire. The platform completed its journey and he made his way to the blinking, game computers with a pompous gait while carelessly swinging earphones around his hand. Titomakanijr arrived in more modest clothing. He wore a pallid hoodie that covered up most of his head and it seemed too large as the sleeves spilt well over his hands. His sweatpants were also very baggy covering up his diffident pair of worn out shoes. Despite the demure attire, he confidently ambled to his seat. Others gathered around the center starting up their games and warming up their hands.
Only moments before the race started and the hunger for gold was palpable. Everyone's sugarfree hat was ready with tubes that tumbled down by the mouth in case they needed to quench a thirst. You could hear the vigorous tapping of the keyboards but for the most part, it was just silence echoing around. However, this was interrupted by the myriad of comets zooming outside the arena signaling the start of the race.
Players rushed off with their frame-perfect hopping and the vines were already quickly shooting up into the sky. The skills were incomparable, no one had seen a better top 8 in their life. While everyone was playing incredibly well, there were two that were ahead by a significant margin, Erik and Titomakanijr. Erik was slightly ahead but even as he seemed strong, there was a susurrant sense of nervousness slowly seeping through the seams of his specious facade, a feeling Erik had not experienced in a long time. Titomakanijr was not free from the nerves either as sweat steadily slid down the sides of his face, you could hear the adrenaline racing through his bloodstream and his pulsing wrists were like roaring drums playing into nothingness. The end was creeping closer and closer, the universe had frozen, everyone was watching. The final switch was within seconds for both players. They were timing each jump with flawless precision and corners were cut sharply.
Erik hit the switch, stood up quickly and clapped his hands vehemently together. Titomakanijr was relaxed in his seat and breathed deeply as if he was exhaling all of his worries and anxiety.
Who was the winner? Erik. By a zeptosecond.
Erik stepped away towards the borders of the plane and lit a cigarette. Each puff quelling any sort of nervousness from before and empowering the sense of triumph while he leaned on his hand that was firmly pressed against the sphere. Titomakanijr dug his face into the palms of his hands. This was supposed to be his event. Where did he go wrong? Was one vine not fast enough? Was one hop a few frames off? Did he eat properly before the race? His mind was in chaos, he was broken down. It was all over.
He smelt a pungent smoke from behind and turned around. To his surprise it was Erik offering his hand which Titomakanijr reluctantly accepted.
“You're the best runner I've ever played against. I hope we see each other again in two years.”
Titomakanijr smiled and Erik replied with a grin of his own and they both packed their equipment. Little did they know that this would be the birth of a new era, a great rivalry between Erik from the Milky Way and Titomakanijr from the Sculptor Galaxy.
