The Bicycle
The bicycle stood propped up against the lampost. It was a stark shadow against the soft warm glow, but others might argue that it fit in with the rather macabre aura of the night. The rain drizzled, pattering softly against the rooftops, creating minute oceans on the streets; the moon reflected in a thousand broken shards in them.
The night was alive. The wind whispered secrets and lost stories, and the stars mocked the clouds for hiding their dazzling smiles from the earth below. But the clouds were inclined to mercy. And so, everything held magic and life, everything that is, except for the bicycle. Its dull metal radiated a cold sense of desperation and felt worlds separated, as if it belonged under some other sky, not her’s.
The girl did not belong here. In this dream of beauty and destruction, of purity and dust. Oh, if only it were a dream, she thought mournfully, standing just outside of the circle created by the light. The street felt lonely, abandoned as if without thought, and she alone stood beneath the weeping sky.
She used to think it was a lie- the sky weeping- a myth created from the thoughts of old men who sat by the fire and spinned elaborate tales about nature, giving life to the inanimate. Whether or not the sky was a true creature was another matter, but she would not believed that it cried. The water had always felt like an elixir, like the taste of sugary peaches on a warm summer day, and the air would be sweet, like a field of ever-blooming flowers. No, the rain had never given her the perception that the sky was grieving.
But now, standing once again beneath the overcast clouds, overbearing with a thousand, a million seemingly infinite drops of water, the impression of serenity and contentment died behind her eyes. No, today the sky was weeping, its tears masking her own. Its tears, her tears, felt as if they could drown the world in them, and her with. But they were useless.
She glared at the rusted metal, now gleaming. She wanted to destroy it, to let it burn like everything else- the thought made her fall to her knees. No, she couldn’t let it go, like everything else was gone. She walked towards the metal contraption, the tires were worn, the wheels rusted. The leather seat was beginning to fray, parts of its edges already torn.
She took it and rode the bicycle deep into the night, seeking to escape from the ever-pervading light of the lampost. She wanted to never again see the metal glow again as it had beneath the orange light.
There was no other path to take, no other way to escape, except for the woods. And so the girl dove deep into them, still rushing to escape from the light. She had believed that the darkness held shadows that rose from the depths of hell, monsters that would consume her through her every doubt and every fear.
She was wrong.
The light was far worse. For it revealed that pain walked brazenly amongst her, beneath a bright blue sky, with the birds chirping merrily, and the music of laughter carried in the breeze.
In the dark, the monsters wore skeletal faces and had claws that raked your very soul, but in the light, there were no monsters that would fulfill that pre-designed role.
Only rage and resentment.
Regret and remorse.
Desolation and heartbreak.
Behind her, the first twigs began to snap and crackle. The light was beginning to catch up. She longed to find the cold comfort of the darkness, to lie under the scrutiny of the stars, to glimpse their otherworldly glamour once again.
But only the ash rose up to meet her. The acrid smell of burning wood drowned her lungs, until she felt there was more smoke than oxygen in her lungs. She rode faster and faster, deeper into the woods, until her legs gave out beneath her and she tumbled to the ground.
The air seemed to still, as if time had stopped for a moment, or slowed down at the very least. A hush reached her ears, drowning out the howling cries around her, the crackling behind her. The soil was soft and cool beneath her head, and in front of her lay a green sprout. It was trampled upon and bowed down, but still it stood, slowly unfurling itself to reach for the sky. Its fragile frame seemed a stark contrast against the fiery flames and blackening soil.
Lying on the cool ground with a monster chasing her, the young girl remembered the taste of peaches on a warm summer day, the laughter that always seemed hers to reign. The memory was old and soothing, bearing a comfort like that of worn clothing. She remembered the bicycle was a present from someone long lost, someone who had told her that she would never fall if she kept riding. But what if I slip or lose my balance? The gifter had only laughed and told her that the bicycle could not keep her on the right path, only she could decide upon the journey. She had not understood it then, for how could falling relate to straying?
She remembered the bitter taste of cigarettes and alcohol, the carelessness that was tangled around her.
She understood now.
Above her, a few defiant stars stood out, the ones who had managed to escape from the clouds.They were twinkling, still laughing, but not at her. The were jeering at the clouds, proving that they too could give mercy. For they reminded the girl of what still remained.
Time unwound itself, no longer wanting to remain standing still. And the flames caught up at last.
She tried to stand up, and crawling ahead a few feet, she saw there was nowhere else to go. A wide chasm stared up at her. She was on the edge of an escarpment.
She could barely hear over the roaring fire. Perhaps there was water below, perhaps there wasn’t.
She saw the the red glow on the sprout’s delicate stem. Her bicycle lay next to it, its metal shimmering in the heat.
The monstrous radiance stared at her eyes, engulfing everything that stood in its way. It felt as if the whole world was on fire. But the girl saw the stars, she saw the beauty in them. The possibility of amendment and repentance.
Hope.
In front of her stood nightmares and mistakes. Behind her the chance for life, for another beginning.
Both offered the path into the unknown.
The flames caught the black metal.
Peaches and laughter.
The green sprout.
She jumped.