Young Victor Frankenstein exhaled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Come on, Vic... First race of the year," he breathed to himself as he knelt at the starting line. "One... Two... BANG!" At the sound of the gunshot, Vic took off down the track, arms working furiously at his sides, breath coming in quick, efficient inhales. This was his time to shine. Dracula may have been the allstar last year, but he'd spent all summer training. This year was to be his year. No longer just a "science nerd" but an athlete too.
As he made his final lap around the track, he spotted the finish line, calling his name. This was it, he was going to win. Closing his eyes he put on the final burst and broke the yellow ribbon, arms held high in sweet victory.
"Er, Frankenstein? You came in second..." Coach Shelley informed him. Vic opened his eyes with a frown.
"Sorry, dude.... But you'll just never be a victor," Dracula said with a grin. Those teeth poor Victor found so grotesque protruding. With a sigh and slunched shoulders, Victor went to go find his dad and brothers on the sideline. There was always next year.
Not very elaborate, but I had fun. :)