Posted Wed Mar 9, 2016 | 303 Words | Tagged story footie liverpool accent

Fantasy I’ve been having for the past week or two. Finally trying to put it into words. Original photo.

I walked into the room wondering why someone shouted my name. Why would someone shout my name into the locker room? I was sure nobody even knew who I was in the gym.

I looked over to a chair someone had pulled out and on it was a full liverpool kit. On the shirt draped over the chair, which had been draped so I would have noticed it I assumed, was “WOODS”.

Surely nobody knew of the name I used online right? And surely nobody would have tracked me down just to give me some kit?

I pulled off the sticky note which read “Enjoy” and on the back was my actual name. This clearly was for me for some reason. I wondered for a second what to do, but instead I decided to just put it on. After all, what’s wrong with a footie kit.

Something felt strange while having it on. It felt looser than it should. This wasn’t right was it. My head started hurting, a massive headache just started and got incredibly bad.

I felt something pop into my mind, Woods. Yeah, I had just signed as a player. I couldn’t play footie could I? I looked down and saw my arms shake and felt muscle pile into them. Then the same with my legs. The muscles gaining memories and strength of playing for years and years.

The headache continued throwing into my memories of growing up playing all the time. I couldn’t be a few hours without a football in my hands. It all felt right now. I was a scouser all my life.

I was shouted over by the captain. Fuck, training. Completely forgot for a second there.