Unlucky Superman

His friends were some older boys, his age, and they rode around on trashed out bicycles, like a BMX gang, trying out tricks, modifying their bikes with pegs on the axles. Some of them, like Billy, didn't even have seats, or seat poles. They thought it was tough to coast around, sprouting their pubes early, standing tall on their bikes, when in truth, they just couldn't afford to fix them, or get new ones.

Sometimes, though, McCormack and his friends wished they could ride a BMX like Billy,   fearless, and accurate, until the day came, during the Summer holidays of nineteen eighty-four.

They were riding their bikes at a building development compound that day.

The older boys were jumping their bikes full speed from a ten step downward stretch, getting air, landing, flipping the handlebars, and rolling in backward, wheels whizzing in freespin. They dared Billy to try it out and full of confidence he rolled to the top step, then made his run up.

McCormack wasn't watching when Billy got air, but he heard the boy land. There was a neck snapping clank and thud and scrape of metal and flesh on concrete. Then, there was a rising cry that became a squeal, then a non-refundable shrieking, like the pigs before McCormack now.

Billy was clutching onto his bike, prone in the position he had landed, just shrieking in pain, but not only that, he was shrieking in fear.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)