Little Inklings 2025

It’s the last inning. The score is tied. I stand on the base, my sweaty palms gripping the bat. The wind kicks up the sand as I adjust my stance at the plate. My breath quickens, and the world around me fades into silence. A rush of adrenaline hits through me as I focus on the baseball, speeding toward my face. It’s coming in fast, so close that I can see the maroon stitching on the ball. It’s too close! I duck just in time. STRIKE! I glance at the scoreboard. It’s almost as if the world stops spinning, my brain comes to a halt. Get your head IN THE GAME ! I bite my lip, feeling the weight of self-doubt. “I’m not good enough!” My eyes shift downward, noticing the dirt on my pants. I look up at the crowd, willing myself to focus. Stop thinking about everything else. Winning is all that matters. The tension builds, the air thick with anticipation. The crowd roars, and suddenly, I look up to… NOTHING. My eyes begin to swell, and then they shut. “He’s down! He’s been struck!” I hear commotion in the crowd. “Get a medic! NOW!” I hear my mom’s voice cutting through the chaos. “Is he going to make it? Elliot!” I don’t know if I’ll make it to the finals, but I’ll try, Mom. Mom? Where am I? I can’t see or hear anyone. All I can ask myself is, Did we win? THE LAST INNING By Sarah Karsenti ’29 12