The wheels, the chain, stop turning as the bike comes to a halt, marking the dirt.
A new petrol station. Huh.
The old trees turn to face him, empathetic, and he looks forward.
He’s seen everything here. The chain goes taut, the wheels turn.
© Hunter Haigh 2021
This flash fiction piece was written at the Lunchtimes are lit! workshop at Raine Square, run by Night Parrot Press and WritingWA.
Hunter Haigh is 16 and has been writing for many years. His works mainly include flash fiction and short stories. Aside from writing, he is a jazz vocalist and an avid composer of Western Art music.
Fremantle Writers 
Bicycle journeys. During the 1980’s I rode through Garden City shopping centre at closing time on a Thursday night without realising one of the entrance chains had just been locked across. It hurt!
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