Estimated reading time — 6 minutes
It was a beautiful morning when I woke up that day. The sky was clear and the weather was perfect. It had been a hot summer, much more so than usual, and I like so many other residents of my town had decided the best place to be was inside an air conditioned room. It was around midday when I decided to go out for a bike ride. It had been a long, cold winter, and I had sworn to myself that when summertime came I would make the most of it. I decided to act upon that promise. I forced myself to put down the book that I was reading. I was just pages away from finishing it, but I desired to do something else, something new. I told myself that these solemn, inactive activities were to be best left to days not as fine as this, and so I set off for a bike ride. I had purchased a new bicycle a couple of years before, and since that time it had mostly rested indoors, much like me. The bike was a reproduction of a vintage model made before my time and its rustic appearance had stroked my interest.
When I had got outside I noticed that the morning’s beauty had been replaced by cloudy skies. It was not a matter of significance to my determined mind, as I had a craving that could only be satisfied by the fine looking burgundy coloured bicycle stored in the back of my garage. I took the bike down my driveway and past the forested area that surrounded my isolated house in the countryside. The wind shook my hair and blew my clothes against me as I rode down the hill towards the town beneath the mountainside. I had walked down this road many times in the past and had even biked down it before when I had first bought the bicycle two years ago. I reckoned the ride would take me less than fifteen minutes. I coasted down the hill, managing the curve in the road with controlled braking. Geese called above me as I rode past the cliff side to my right. From atop the mountain I could see the clusters of houses and buildings which formed a town at the bottom of the valley. It was an incredible sight on a summer’s day such as this, and I was only interrupted from its beauty by the sudden drops of rain upon my body. I watched the water seep into my clothes before my vision was contorted into a series of blurred images.
I was sent forward from the blow. Something had struck my bike from behind and thrown me from my seat. My mind didn’t have time to process what had happened, and I was barely able to react. I was falling, and I instinctively raised my arms ahead of me to break my fall and keep my face from hitting the concrete. My body hit the pavement and I was tossed into a roll down the steep mountain road. My hands, legs, and arms drew blood when scraped against the rough pavement. I rolled for what seemed like miles before I stopped. My mind felt fuzzy but I remained conscious, and after a few brief moments of confusion I managed to summarize what had happened in my mind. I realized that I had been hit by something, a vehicle of some kind and had been thrown to where I was from the collision. As I was sitting there, for the first time since the accident I felt the unbearable pain from the scrapes on my bloodied body. When I opened my eyes and looked up, all that I could see was darkness. It had been midday when I started my bike ride, and I couldn’t comprehend how nigh time had fallen so quickly. The country sky, which was normally packed with the bright lights from the heavens, was devoid of any such light, not even the moon. Living in this part of the country, I had had my fair share of eerie outdoorsman experiences, the kind you would tell around a campfire over a couple of beers, but those stories paled in comparison to this. My confusion was broke from the surges of pain as they shot through my body. I could not see anything in the pitch black around me, but I could vividly feel the stinging pain. My shirt and shorts had protected my body to some degree, but I felt most of it as being bruised and bloodied. I remembered memories from my childhood then, experiences of being lost and alone in the woods around my house, and those painful memories of fear and helplessness surrounded me like they had once before. I knew this area off by heart, yet in the darkness I could sense nothing familiar.
I was sitting in the fetal position, fearful of the dark abyss which had surrounded me, and scared of causing myself more pain through movement. I could not see, but I knew I had to do something, anything. I needed to find help. The town below had a local clinic, but it was miles down the road. I knew it would be faster to walk to my home; I had a first aid kit there. My hands and legs burned in excruciating pain as I tried to push myself up onto my feet, and my right leg buckled under my weight before I could do so, sending me falling back onto the ground. My hands burned at whatever they touched and I could not feel whatever it was they fell upon. I couldn’t feel anything besides the raindrops which poured down upon my agonizing face. I was at my limit and I broke down into tears. I cried so hard that my sobs replaced my agony with silence. I called for help, knowing no one was there to hear me, but my voice was caught within my throat. I tried to scream, but could produce no sound. When I moved my hands to my throat to coax the voice from my breath I found I could not do so. I could not express my agony through words and so I pounded the ground in frustration. My foolish actions were met with pain and pain only, and it was then that I discovered I could not hear, too. I was deaf, blind, and crippled, and my body panicked at the thoughts as ran through me. My mind processed a life of nothingness and immobility, and those thoughts of helplessness sent my mind into a state of terror. My sanity returned when I saw the hope which was a light at the bottom of the hill. My pupils retracted and my eyes struggled to focus the image of blurry light in front of me. I was relieved that I could see something, anything. The light grew closer and brighter as it advanced upon me, its faint gleam growing slowly taller to reveal the blurry image amongst its dim yellow glow.
The image before me was a person, what I had believed to be an angel. However that thought was soon erased from my mind as I comprehended the horrible image in front of me. A pair of grotesque horribly mangled legs limped towards me, and blood lurched from the beings legs as it stalked its way to my direction. I blinked when I saw this, not wanting to believe what I had just seen, but the image was still before my eyes and shaking body. The figure slowly revealed itself from the darkness as it grew nearer. I could see more blood, more gore, and for the first time in my life I experienced absolute terror. I tried to get up, to run, but I could not muster the strength to do so. My outstretched hands tried to pull my body back away from the body of pulsing blood and guts that was coming towards me, but I could not do so, and that helplessness was what drove me from my sanity. As the body drew closer, the light revealed the figure’s torso and lower chest. The horrible figure wore a tattered and bloody white dress which was draped upon its boney and pale body. The sound of static accompanied by falling rain flowed into my eardrums as the now headless figure limped towards me. I was shaking uncontrollably in terror as the body’s face was unveiled from the blackness, and I felt the splash of rain brought from the figure’s step in front of me as I caught a glimpse of the pale face and piercing blue eyes of the monster. I closed my eyes then, unable to bear seeing these last few moments of my life. Cold hands tightened around my shoulders before I opened my eyes from the grasp of tightened hands… As my eyelid coiled back I saw a flashlight shining into my eyes and the face of a paramedic behind it. I felt the rain fall upon me as I was lifted from the ground and placed gingerly into a stretcher. I could hear the raindrops hit the pavement around me and the static of a paramedic’s radio as he spoke into it.
After weeks in the hospital I was finally released. I had a friend drive me home after I had been discharged, and when I arrived back home he presented me with the bicycle I had lost in the accident. He told me he went to retrieve it after he had heard what happened, as he thought I would want it returned. He said apart from the scratches, the bike still seemed to be in good condition, but what couldn’t seem to get off was a pair of small hand prints on the right side of the bike’s frame. They seemed to have been stained on with some sort of chemical, and that he had found it this way when he found the bike near the edge of the cliff, where the girl who fell to her death ten years ago had supposedly fallen from.
Credit To – 9753