Riding down the road with the wind rushing through my hair and the houses whizzing past, I’ve always loved the feeling. Alone but for the music, pounding in my ears. Riding with no destination in mind, I ended up at a park I used to play in when I was a child. Despite a mere ten minute walk from my house, it had been a while since I had come. Dumping my bike, I eagerly climbed onto the equipment, ignoring the couples enjoying an evening walk. Across the monkey bars I went. Stepping across the rails, down the slide and swinging to and fro upon the swings. The cricket nets stood a bit away, reminding me of the time I had spent there with my brother when I had followed everything he did. While the olive tree, still strong and steady, reminded me of the battles we had fought, pelting each other sore. It had been great fun. But as the sun set, with the orange light fading into the distance, I picked up my bike again ready to head home. With the music still pounding in my ears, I sung along knowing that no one could hear my horrid singing, and not really caring either way.
A/N: I’ve realised how much easier it is to write based on experience rather than drawing from imagination. I really must get out there more, maybe then I’ll be able to write better stories.
