This short story was inspired by Fictions in Flashes flash fiction, which I liked very much – thank you very much!
I was on my motorbike, going at illegal speeds.
I was not wearing a helmet, and the wind whipped at my hair, pressing curious fingers against my cheeks and neck, all the while screaming in my ears. I did not understand their language, though it might have been forebodingly.
Cars whipped by in a senseless blur, their shapes undefined and their sounds inaudible. Sometimes I imagined shouts, but then reality did not allow me to dwell on that observation.
I was moving forward, and they were staying behind. I was flying, and they no longer existed.
In fact, I knew where I was going.
() () ()
The voices told me truths too hard to contemplate. They were in my ears and told me stories that I found too incredible to believe. However, their incessant recollections started to burn into my mind, scorched its way into my very being, which only left me with one choice: believe. I no longer knew what truth was. I no longer knew who my friends were – even family became strangers. The voices told me that it did not matter. They told me that I was the one with my mask ripped off, that I was beginning to understand the world for what it was. They told me that now I could see through walls, and that nothing was going to hinder me anymore.
I believed them. They told me what I must do.
() () ()
I turned onto an inclining junction that veered to the right. Road signs blurred. Honks became but an easily ignored hindrance nagging at the back of my mind, which frankly could not absorb and analyze any new information. The motorbike underneath me powerful and hungry, eating at the road with shrill delight: it buckled as its tyres held traction and began to climb the unfinished road.
At the end of a long curve, the road ended with a 170-foot drop to the ground.
My heart escalated as I increased speed.
The voices were back, and shrieked against the wails of the wind urging me to slow down.
I ignored it and found solace in the voices instead. Their guidance urged me to approach the end of the road with open eyes, and embrace what is to come next.
Just as I reached the end, a memory burst into bloom, and had me smile.
I went off the road.
I laughed aloud when I started to soar. The wings of thought took flight, and I soared across the heavens. The bike, unfortunately, exploded upon impact with the ground below. The heat pushed me up, the wind pushed me to the side, and I floated over the highway, much to the surprise of the motorists staring at me with their mouths agape. I was happy, and I shouted at them to hear the voices, let them in and believe whatever they have to say.
The wind of change is upon us.