One could almost miss it as they walk through the trail. The once shining red paint had rusted, matching the collage of reds, oranges, and greys of the tree it's locked onto. Only the two rubber tires would give the obvious signal that this tree is not like the others - and even they pretty much blended in with the aging forest's shadows.
You didn't even have to see it, you'd just be stumbling over roots, moss, and fallen leaves and pine needles... Then your feet would stop. It would be there to greet your gaze when you lock onto the rusted steel.
It’s a risk coming back here, to the scene of the crime, even after what seems like an eternity ago. And yet, this is your third trip back here this month. That rusty hunk of metal you’re currently glaring at has been invading your mind much more than usual. Usually you aren’t dragging yourself back here more than once every few years.
The world twitches and jerks with every bump you speed through – hopefully it will slow her down much more, you can hear her ragged breaths and pedaling beginning to close in – praying that you won’t fall and WILL make it out of here. Please, God, don’t you dare fall!
“Houh.” A sound you can only describes as a combination of a huff and a scoff escapes, because really, God? Whatever higher being that’s pulling you back here is not that guy.
‘Put one foot in front of the other. Then the other one. Then repeat. Repeat, and keep going.’ Your life’s mantra echoes in your mind, the voice – your own – sounding so sure yet easy-going. Not everything is idiot-proof, apparently.
You blink as a realization hits you, muscles tensing up on instinct before your mind becomes aware of an arrow of energy prodding at your head: Someone is watching you.
Just when you think you lost her, she jumps you from the side. Her claws sear your skin and steals your breath, head meeting tree keeping you from getting any back.
“Game over.” Her hot breath whispers smugly in your ear. Just when you are about to black out, spikes chomp down on your shoulder and keep you awake throughout every pulsing jolt that tortures your body.
One hand slowly reaches up to feel your hood, the other fingering the knife hidden in your sleeve.
“Can I help you?” You inquire in the lowest pitch your throat will allow. A few seconds of silence and you hear leaves crunching, each like a painful spike to your eardrums.
“Uh, sorry.” What appears to be a young boy – middle schooler? – stammers out awkwardly and keeping his eyes to the ground. “I didn’t mean to… I was, uh, just waiting for you to leave.”
“Whyzzat?” You drawl out.
“Well, I didn’t know anyone else knew about the bike.” He locks eyes with you for a second and instantly goes back to looking at his shoes. “I mean, not anymore.”
… He seems harmless enough.
“What’s your name boy, and what do you know about this bike?”
“My names Sean, and this bike… It belonged to my older sister, before she disappeared… Like, over a decade ago.”
Your chest tightens. Little Seanny.
“I knew her, too. She was a friend.”
“Really?” Suspicion laces his voice, looking you over for any signs of recognition.
“Yeah, but I only knew you as a baby.” His knitted eyebrows become annoying to look at, so you turn back to the bike. “What happened to your Sister?”
“I was told that she and her friend were last seen on their bikes, racing each other. The two weren’t seen again.”
“That’s not the whole story.” Your mouth starts moving on its own. “A few weeks before, they had a game going on, one that got out of control.” Easy, don’t just blab the whole story. “They… They got into a fight. Afterwards, they both began acting very different…” You lick your lips, keeping your eyes glued to the bike. “Page became quieter and distant from everyone. Rebecca, although acting friendly enough, was also adapting a hostile air. She hurt Page that time, you see.” You shove your glasses up to the bridge of your nose.
“Why didn’t Page tell anyone?” Sean whispers.
“There was no one that she could talk to.” You shake your head. “Whatever… Happened, it left Page feeling detached. She didn’t trust anyone, probably because no one else could understand what she was going through.” You gulp. “They had another race-off through the trails. During the race, they fought again. They tried to kill each other.”
“… But no bodies were found. Just that bike… Although, the police dogs got scared when they were brought here, I think.”
During that torturous electrocution, the world becomes hypersensitive. The bark scratching the back of your skull is like claws, the moon is too bright and the shadows too dark. Your hands feel pine needles and … Glass! With a quick moment of clarity, you grip a large shard and thrust it forward. Her demonic shrieks pierce your ears, but you push forward, stabbing again, and again, and AGAIN! No more feeling her shadow on you, no more of her damn mind games, you’re ending this curse RIGHT! NOW!
But it didn’t. Even today, you don’t know what she turned you into, but you weren’t human anymore. Her body disappeared and you stayed cursed.
“Well, thanks for listening.” You give Sean a nod before turning away. “I’ll be hanging around, okay?” You leave, trying to keep your chest from constricting. Disappearing seemed like the best option back then, but… Maybe it’s time to talk with someone about it. Get some actual closure. It must be working, because for once, you don’t want to look at her bike for another second.
Got Third Place in the Blood Pen Arena, which was a picture prompt of a bike. This is supposed to be a mystery, but I feel that some parts are more confusing. If anyone could tell me how they see the story, that would help a lot. I really want to do more with this, but for now, it will be a one-shot. I might do more, if I get more ideas. I'm open for suggestions!
Critiques are appreciated- Monos
