Writing Prompt

This bicycle is lying in the street not for any obvious reason. No one got hit by a car or swerved to miss a dog and fell off it. No one got dragged off it to be abducted. This isn’t that kind of story. It fell off a van. It was not broken when it first fell off the van but it broke when it fell. The van was being driven by a man named Adam Bunk. It was getting dark outside and Adam and his friends were going camping and mountain bike riding in a nearby woods. Their gear and their bikes were attached to the top and the back of the van. Their friend Bryce didn’t have a mountain bike so he brought a regular street bike. The others laughed at him but he swore that he could use it to bike in the woods. Said he’d done it a thousand times. You always had to take what Bryce said with a pinch of salt so the others did not believe him, but they did what they usually did which was to humor him. Sure, man. They said. They were blaring their music and someone was passing around the van so no one noticed when Bryce’s bike just…fell.

Helicopters parent. That is the term so many members of her family teasingly called her when her son took his first steps. Thinking back, they even criticized how much she held him as a baby. “He’ll never learn to self soothe.” “You’re nursing him too long” “he’s just attached to your hip.” “He’s just a mama’s boy huh!”

Her favorite was when people would surprisingly say, “well what are you doing down in the floor! He’ll learn to play on his own, just let him figure it out.” And he did. Eventually he slept in his own bed, learned to play outside on his own, and despite all the extra babying he ensured, he grew up bold and confident in himself. Through the years his mother best her self up mentally whenever she had the urge to hold him too long or rock him to sleep or make a separate meal for him because he didn’t like casserole like she didn’t as a kid. Okay

So when the police knocked on her door to ask if she could identify him at the hospital that’s when she realized too late how much she didn’t care about other people’s opinions. She wished she had held him long, rocked him more, and followed him in her car that day when he asked to ride his bike to the store. Where were those critics now?...she soon found out they had switched sides. “Why was he out on his own?” “Don’t you know this isn’t your parents’ world.”

She was two blocks away, but she’s to blame.

Paul rushed to his bike before his colleagues could reach him. Bigger and taller than him, though, the three boys got to Paul just as he was about to climb onto his bike.

“Not so fast, four-eye.” Ben said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “I gave you a week to bring me ten bucks. Where are they?”

Paul tried not to shake but it was stronger than him. How could he justify asking for ten extra bucks every week to his mother when there were no requests from the teachers for new materials?

“I’m… I’m sorry. My mom didn’t have.” he mumbled, trying to get rid of the grip. But Ben’s hands didn’t move the slightest.

“I don’t care. Ask someone else. Because of you today I didn’t have my lunch. I’m starving. Your heard that, douchebag? I’m starving.”

The other three boys giggled and Ben burst into uncontrollable trembling.

“I’ll bring you on Monday, I promise. Please let me go. My mom is waiting for me.” he said, his voice hardly louder than a whisper.

“My mom is waiting for me.” Ben mimicked much to the others gloating. “I’m hungry TODAY so you better get me ten bucks or else…”

“What is going on here?” Mr Gleeson’s voice, loud and angry, reached the boy’s ears. He was the school’s janitor and it wasn’t the first time he had caught Ben and his gang bullying smaller kids.

The boys turned to him and Ben loosened his grip. Paul didn’t think twice. He jumped onto his bike, awkwardly but quickly and his feet immediately reached for the pedals.

“After him!” Ben shouted.

Paul was terrified, hardly aware of anything else but the ruffians behind him. He pedaled and pedaled, the bike chains squeaking and moaning about the unusual speed. His eyes blurred with tears. He heard a car honking. He ignored. Only the honking was directed at him. He couldn’t describe what happened next. A powerful clash against his small body as the car’s wheels screeched, unable to avoid the accident. He was propelled to the ground before he could even grasp what was going on. His eyes, still blurred with tears, blurred further with a mixture of bright yellow and white lights. His body was suddenly flooded by a strange, yet strong pain, like nothing he had ever felt before. He heard sounds around him. Shocked voices. Somebody kept saying “Oh my God, oh my God”. The voice sounded familiar. Before he plunged into a weird slumber he reckoned it was Mr Gleeson. But there was another voice too repeating the same over and over again. Ben. Was he feeling guilty? Or did he only fear the consequences?

It didn’t matter to Paul right now. He just let the slumber take over him.

Jessica O’Mally was just a regular 17 year old girl. She had friends,a phone,and a bike. She was on her high school’s cross country team. And this morning she decided to go on a nice bike ride to get ready for practice. She ran out the door and threw on her air pods. She was humming her favorite song softly. She was biking so fast she didn’t even see the car.....and 3 hours later her parents found her bike in the Speed Mart parking lot.

When you trip and fall on a blade that goes through your eyes and skull. Then you finally make out it was an icicle. Break your ribs on an already broken bicycle. Pour me another glass or I will.

Give you a tour to the part of your ass you’ve never seen before. Because now you’ve awoken and you can see your head was so far up your ass you started to see what’s been waiting, a broken bicycle. One two three parted away finally from the me I was so stupid to never see that it’s not who I should be. Four five six have you ever seen the broken bicycle that made me? Relaid me to make the fade flee. Trade me for a better me to persuade signs of glee. Paid me to use the blade on me. I’m fighting myself, the monster within he. I just called me he? I’m appalled upon the thought of ever being free. It’s my own fault, I should never have played with a broken bicycle unless I wanted to bite the blade. I have every right to remain violent. I have every right to stay silent. I need to kill him. I need to kill me. A self sacrifice no one will care for. But hey, that’s me.

Joey was a regular kid nice, sweet & loved bicycles. His bicycle was his best friend, but this is the day that joey and his bicycle depart forever. Joey woke up that morning excited for the day ahead. Joey ran passed his mother and out the door straight to his bike. Joey's mother yelled,” don't forget to be in before the streets lights come on”! As Joey is riding his bike, he ran into his friend mike from across the street. Mike asked if Joey wanted to go to the park. Upon entering the park Joey sped on his bicycle so fast passed Mike declaring a race. Joey was going so fast he almost crashed into Mike. Mike realized it was getting late and told Joey he was headed home. Joey insisted on racing back to their street. Joey and Mike zoomed down the street dashing through cars and speeding pass people. Joey felt Mike catching up to him so Joey started peddling faster. Joey was going so fast he didn't see the curb and crashed into it.
Joey hit the ground and his bike went flying into the middle of the street. Joey slowly got up to wipe his self off. Joey then proceeded to get his bike out the street but a car came speeding down the street and rolled over it before he could get to it.

“Be back by 10!” My fathers voice echos. I stare down at my watch, 9:45. My breathing is rushed and my legs are burning. “Come on, you got fifteen minutes.” I keep peddling faster and faster, the handle bars on my bike swinging back and forth. 9:50. I reach an intersection and screech to a stop. A women in a white beat up truck speeds past, honking, and putting a finger in the air. I roll my eyes and start peddling again. 9:55. “Hurry up!” I tell myself as I peddle even faster than before. Breathing heavily, I make my way past the gas station and remember something. “Pick up some milk on your way back!” The words from my mother rushed into my head and I swerved my bike around. I ran into the gas station, grabbed the milk, and rushed back to my bike. 9:57. “Three minutes.” I told myself. Before I could leave the parking lot a black SUV pulled up with speed, right in front of me, causing me to fall off my bike. I gave a look at the car, now parked next to me, and picked up my bike. Before I could get onto my bike a hand went over my mouth and an arm clutched my waist. My bike dropped back to the ground, along with my phone. Before the person behind me was able to sweep me away I took one last glance at my phone. 10:00.

“He liked it, that’s all,” Harry said through his tears. “It was practical.”

That bike and it’s basket had been one of Adrian’s most prized possessions. From the day he ripped it out of the Christmas wrapping and box he had whizzing up and down the neighbour laughing with glee. He’d taken to it like duck to water, as they say, and had progressed to riding through the woods while the light still gave him sight.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost all function in your legs.”

Those words from the Doctor with the stern but strangely comforting eyes had made Harry want to die. How would he ever be the same? From running and cycling every day with Adrian to being wheelchair bound the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure he could continue.

But he did, and all because of Adrian. As father was to son, now son was to father.

Adrian bought that basket simply to bring home the groceries because Harry couldn’t make it to the shops. But that wasn’t all it brought home. “Are you okay, son?” Harry had said on more than one occasion. And every time the answer was the same.

“Yes.” But the downbeat expression, the downcast eyes, they told a different answer.

Harry had identified the body, had taken the bike home, had spoken to so many parents that offered their condolences and so sorrys.

And now here he was. In an old smelling courtroom, four kids, because that’s all they really where, in front of him, telling the story of his boy to the judge and jury.

“It helped him, what with me being as I am. It was nothing to be ashamed of, to be ridiculed and mocked for. It was just a basket and he was my boy.”

I’ve always loved riding my bike. It allows me to feel free and to travel where I want to. Long bike rides in the park or in town, they bring me joy and relaxation that I rarely get anywhere else. But sometimes what you’d least expect happens. A short bike ride home from work ends up leading to a night in the hospital. I got hit by a car. It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t mine. It just happened. But my night in the hospital began in the ER. Then lead to the OR. And then it went to the morgue. That’s right, I’m dead. My life is over. And that’s okay. Really. I’ll be fine. I don’t know what comes next but whatever it is, I’ll live there in peace. For all I see is a shining white light. And it’s beautiful and hypnotic. Maybe it will lead to my next home. So mom, dad, and my family and friends; I’ll be okay and so will you. Just please, if you go out riding bikes, make sure you can be seen so what happened to me never happens again.

I get up and go to the garage hop on my bike and just start paddling. I didn’t feel anything, nothing, it seemed like the world had came to a stop. Then all of sudden it got real bright so bright I was blinded. The world hit play again and I laid there. Was it my time right here right now. All I wanted was people to know the real me was that so hard to ask not even my own parents could look at me the same. I might as well had been on this cold wet ground paralyzed not feeling nothing because that’s what I felt when I did not hear those words “we still love you son”. Who knew just two words, “IM GAY” could begin to question the love of your son . I just wanted to be free. Free to be myself. Loved no matter what I was or who I was.