T

he sun fondles my face. My legs are pedaling quickly. The bike feels like a natural extension of my body. The faceless crowd streams past me on the sidewalk like a video projection. My long red scarf is sailing in the wind. Its silken surface is almost sparkling in the light. Why would mother think it was impractical? Smiling, I brush its flying tail behind me. I can already see the park. I pedal a little faster, humming. I hear a strange sound. Something like a whip. Something presses against my throat. Pain shoots through my neck. Darkness.

B.E.Seidl lives in the beautiful city of Vienna, Austria. Her stories have appeared in anthologies and in several online magazines such as Flash Fiction Magazine or MicroHorror. A passionate reader and comparative literature researcher, she likes any kinds of stories, particularly dark fiction. Find out more about her work at www.beseidl.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/BeSeidl or on Twitter @BESeidl.

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