I’m taking part in this interesting project. They send you a number of little envelopes in the post to which you develop a creative response and document the process.
This was the envelope I selected. I wanted to do some writing so I jotted down my thoughts about the quote.
I wrote a paragraph in response started with the highlighted phrase. You can read by clicking here: First bit of writing. I’m not sure if it’s a story yet, or what it is.
When the clock struck three Andrew stood up and found his bike in the long grass. It was all downhill to night from here, he thought. He crossed the rail tracks and got on the bike. He rode down the track, the grass and nettles in the verge whipping at his bare legs. The sun was noticeably lower in the sky and its light had taken on notes of gold and copper. The scent of autumn was in the air, though he couldn’t have said exactly what that was, something burnished and crisp with a hint of cold.
He didn’t want to go home. Not really. But he didn’t want to be out after dark either. The bike had no lights. Or rather it had lights but they didn’t work. He didn’t know if it was the dynamo or just the bulbs that had gone. At the end of summer he and Kevin had biked home in the dark. At that time they had two working lights between them. Andrew’s bike had a functioning rear light and Kevin’s headlight still worked. So Kevin rode in front with Andrew following tightly behind him. In the country lanes where there were no street lights the night cocooned them in darkness. There were no sounds other than the whickering of the turning bicycle wheels and the occasional car that growled by too close. Without any visual reference points, and without even having to peddle that much on the downward sloping roads, it felt like flying.