Original Writing
The Rink, a place of glory, and defeat, a place of love, and hate. As you walked down the tiled corridor, your foot steps echo back and forth, your breath joins the echoing so the foot steps are not lonely. You are walking across at fast pace but as you go past there is pictures nailed up on the wall showing faces of delight. Looking at these pictures you hear shouting and cheering, it was the caught moment of past glory; it was a picture of you.
There in fount of you there is a brass shiny door knob, you place your worn hand on it and as you do there is a white flash. The white bright light begins to clear and you start to see a faint picture of a gold cup with the engraving “player of the decade”. This picture gives you a warm fuzzy feeling inside but as the picture fades away you start to feel cold. You then are looking back at the brass door knob; your hand jerks back as the door knob is freezing cold. But you twist it and the door swings open.
