Beads of sweat dripped down the jockey's face, as he stared, focused on the horses kicking up dirt on the track before him. His heart raced as he felt his horse's muscles tense, as they pounded the soft, red dirt. This was his last chance to leave a legacy, his mark on the racing world. He counted the strides to the finish. The horse's speed was unfaltering, even as they neared the finish line. He saw his horse's leg reaching over the line, but time slowed. Everything was muddled, his vision a spinning blur. He was swallowed by darkness.