It was the height of a long warm summer...
when the day we had been waiting for finally arrived. In the sweltering heat we kitted up, and with paddles in one hand and boat in the other we eagerly dashed for the waters edge. It was the day of the big boat race. Not of the Oxford-Cambridge scale, but big for a bunch of twelve year olds at a sailing club. We weren’t going to be beaten. We had trained harder and longer than the other team, and the pride of the club was at stake.

The reservoir offered a cool change to the Sahara like conditions of dry land, and so it was with a joyous sigh of relief that we plunged ourselves deeper and deeper into the cool refreshing waters. After clambering aboard our trusty vessel, the teams made their way to the start line. We looked across at our nemeses. They were fat, sweating, they looked unfit. “We’ve got this in the bag” we thought as the starter’s gun was fired and we took off like a rocket toward the finish.

With every row we pulled further ahead. We could see them behind us, a shambles of uncoordinated louts. We were sleek, a shining example of team work. Our paddles glistened through the water, smooth and in time. And then…dush, first one paddle, dush dush, a second had hit it on the same side. There was something in the water. We looked down at what we thought was a log. But wait… its got arms, and a head, and feet. “What do we do?” came a panicked call from the front. “They’ll cancel the race if we say anything?” were the words of callous wisdom offered from the back. It made sense. We wouldn't win if we said anything.

The other team were still quite a distance, but gaining fast. Victory was all that mattered. The corpse would still be there when we got to the other side; it’s not as if we could do anything. And so it was with an uncaring bash of six paddles that the body of a 19 year old student was tossed to one side for a bunch of twelve year olds to have a taste of the victory they craved. When we got to the other side, it was decided that we would have to keep quiet about finding the body, or the race would be cancelled. The next race would find it anyway and there was no point in us not getting our medals. We had after all won the race, and if we said anything, that would surely be forgotten.

And so, with guilt wriggling its way through our very souls we accepted our medals. The next race did indeed find the body, and the rest of the meet was cancelled. Ours were as we predicted the last medals to be given out. I still have the medal to this very day, a constant reminder of the time I chose a hollow victory over basic humanity.
( Furness, Thu 28 Feb 2008, 14:29, Reply)