The winter sun’s last rays displayed unspectacular fireworks in the patchy sky. The lone cyclist put in some extra effort to warm himself somewhat as the temperature plummeted sharply. Despite the cold and the setting sun, the cyclist was happy. He was happy and free. Knowing this path by heart, he knew its treacherous parts. He was riding fast, but not careless, … so he thought. Fate took a turn for the worse at the fork in the road. As if the space-time continuum had teared, all of a sudden the cyclist found himself on the ground gasping as a throbbing pain tore through his body. “Shit, this time it’s not good” he thought to himself. Quicker than foreseen, the winter conditions had caught up with the cyclist and felled him with a single stroke of bad luck; and ice.

January Writing Prompts 17 January 10h10

Inspired by true events, without a fork