Morning Ride

This is a short story I wrote in my Creative Writing class. We were working on creating a setting, but it sort of took a life of it's own and here's what I got.

Peter and William’s bicycles rattled along the narrow cobblestone road. Walled in on both sides by a continuous stream of buildings the road weaved down the hill. Standing up off the seat they whizzed onward with gay abandon. Opels, Skodas, Volkswagens, and Smart Cars were parked bumper to bumper on either side. Hugging the curb they left barely enough room for the boys to ride side by side.

Germans love the weekend, and not many of them were likely to be awake at this hour on a Saturday. Most windows were still shaded, and only the shops of the bakers and butchers had flipped the signs on their doors from closed to open. The streets were still in shadow, but it the sun poked it’s head down every alley, laying warm golden bars of sunlight across the street. Every time Peter crossed one he felt the urge to let go of the handlebars and spread his arms wide. He envisioned soaking every particle of warmth that he could into his windbreaker. Building, he hoped, a large enough reservoir to carry him through the next block of shadows.

Puffing heavy balls of frozen air into the morning he wished the day would hurry and warm up. The evening news had reported a steady rise in temperature all week, and even though spring hadn’t quite arrived yet Peter fancied it had. He could taste the ice-cream sold at the gelato shops when the Italians returned for the summer season. He longed to be able to ride down to the swimming pool with nothing but shorts on, and a towel tossed over his shoulder. He counted the weeks left till summer vacation began, and then imagined them at only half that number.

The cold wind sweeping back his hair, and the rusty chains chattering on dirty cogs brought him back from his sunny day dream. Tossing a playful look to William he shifted two gears higher, the chain clunking onto a smaller cog, and spun his legs as fast as he could. Peter caught the hint and matched William. He pedaled as fast as he could but William was the younger of the two and his skinny legs didn’t have the weight Peter’s did. It began slowly at first. An inch, barely noticeable, but it grew into two inches, then six, and a full foot. In the space of fifty meters Peter was a whole bike length in front of William. Spurred by his quick success William pedaled harder. Glancing back over his shoulder he affirmed his climbing lead. He now had three full lengths on William, and his lead was still growing.

The road took a sharp bend, and Peter mastered it wonderfully. Pulling himself tight to his rickety ten-speed he tilted the bike into the turn. He’d watch the Professionals closely the last time they’d come racing through. They always took the turn wide, bending outwards before cutting across the street to the inside of the corner. When done properly they didn’t have to break, and they sped through the turn at full speed. Peter had watched them closely, and he couldn’t help but smile even bigger at turning so perfectly. He did tap his breaks once, but it was only for a second and even the Pros needed to tap their breaks on occasion.

The road straightened out, and the buildings opened up into an intersection; bathed in golden light, and framed in traffic lights it made the perfect finish line. The light was green, and Peter sped towards it. At five meters from the white line the light flashed yellow, but Peter was going too fast to stop now. Cranking down he blared through the intersection as a blur, holding his breath as the light switched to red, and then sighing in relief as he fell back into the shadows on the other side.

Hands raised in victory he basked in the cheers of the unseen crowd. Before him lay the city center; A haphazard panorama of square buildings squeezed into a circular ring. A large road encompassed the center in a large black wheel; shooting spokes at every degree towards a large cathedral. It was the hub of the city, and it dominated the landscape. Towering above every building in the proximity it bathed in the sun. It stood in contrast to itself, one side glowed gold in the morning sun as the other half still stood in the darkness of the night. Pigeons took flight from the bell tower as it rang out long wavy greetings, and Peter shouted back cry of good morning. Peter’s muscles felt warm, and the cold no longer bit at his hands. Squeezing his brakes gently he began to slow down. His heart slowly lessened its tempo on his rib cage also. And then it stopped all together.

The tires squealed first, and then came the sickening crunch of metal against metal. Peter slammed on his breaks, and fish tailing his bike sideways he looked in horror behind him. A silver BMW stood stopped in the middle of the intersection. Its waxed hood was slightly buckled and the wheels bit at the twisted metal of William’s bike which was lodged under the bumper. William lay prostrate a few meters down the road. His eyes were wide in shock, and his mouth gaped for air. One arm was tucked under his body and the other sprawled out across the rugged cobblestone. The sun shimmered off the blood in his hair, and his only movement was try and to curl into a ball. A tall man in a suit slammed his car door and ran towards William. The cell phone in his hand already dialing for an Ambulance. Peter dropped his bike and ran to his brother. It’d been such a wonderful morning.