Descriptive PK

I placed the cold hard object on the ground, and turned my frozen back to it. Counting out my steps like a little child learning his first ever numbers. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. I stopped at that number, while staring still with my back towards the object which would decide everything. I look around and see many tired and worn out faces. The cold hard bitter air is making everyones breath look like it could be their last. I look far off in the distance, not focusing on any specific small point, but thinking of times that it had happened before. All the glory and the celebration. All the heart warming hugs, the cold hard punches, the jumps of overwhelming joy and the yell of mad driven warriors. All this I had tried to think of, until my mind swepped aside all the happy and memorufull thoughts and had brought in the bitter dissapointments. All the momentum of everything rested on my chipped shoulders. All of the peoples hopes and dreams which i could fulfill or smight in a show of long lasted glory. Everything i could hope for could happen, but also could what i did not want to happen. I smell the cold bitter air trying to get some of my all important high adrenaline running, but all i could feel was the air freezing up my lungs and throat, as if they were like parasites eating out the inside of my body like flies would eat up a dead animal corpse. Then i came like a raging thunderbolt from heaven back to the world of reality we call earth. I ran, counting out my steps. My feet are stepping on the ground as if they were soft clouds hovering in the sky. Making my leg skid across the frozen ground like they would snap off if they took a normal step. I run up ready to use all my precision and also power, but most importantly making sure not to miss. I kick the soccer ball which heads towards goal like a bullet, whistling through the air and going almost as fast as the speed of sound. The next thing even i dont know what happens...