Flash

I was riding a bicycle through the streets of a nondescript neighborhood. Only the road was clearly visible, the houses and sky were blurred together, only vaguely in recognizable shapes. The bicycle I was riding had very short handlebars with only enough room for my hands to just barely cover the left and right sides. Because of this, I had to steer by leaning my entire body to one side or the other. This made high speeds terrifying.

I couldn't seem to go slower than terrifying though. The bicycle didn't have brakes, so each time downhill I would tense up, using all my energy to keep from falling. Uphill, the bicycle would slow down but I don't remember ever having to actually use the pedals. The bicycle always moved at a minimum speed.

I came to my old house, one we have not lived in for almost ten years. I dropped the bicycle in the front yard and immediately went for one of the front windows. A window that had long ago been to my sister's room. Now I'm in the hallway, past my sister's room. I walk slowly down the hallway and notice that the house is still filled with odds and ends that we left there when we moved away, ten years ago. I pass my mother's old room and see a little piano against the wall. I walk through to investigate it, thinking I'll take it back with me if I can, but when I get to it, the keys are all missing and the inside of it is completely empty, save for random bits of trash.

I poke through other piles of stuff, not looking for anything in particular when I suddenly hear footsteps coming from upstairs. I stop to listen, not wondering how there can be an upstairs on a house that is only one level. The footsteps become louder and I can now hear them coming down the stairs, quicker this time. I know the house is unlived in, so I think that it must be a homeless man or drifter that I woke up. I turn to run back down the hallway towards the open window that I climbed through. I dive through the window and into the grass outside, rolling into a ball and coming back up at my bike. I pull the bike up in one swift movement and am down the street without looking back.

I come around a curve too fast, almost falling, and start up the largest hill in the neighborhood. I still don't have to pedal, so it's easy going, but I'm tired so I get off the bike to walk it up the hill. There's a nice looking hispanic man standing on the other side of the street, walking down the way I came. My bike disappears and I'm walking emptyhanded. He says hello to me, but I'm out of breath so can only manage to wave back. I notice that he's carrying a very nice camera with him.

"$600 picture, my treat?" He says, smiling.
I look at him quizically, not understanding.
"I take a $600 photo of you, for free?" He says again, beckoning to me with his camera.

I nod yes and walk over to him, skeptical that he'll keep his word but intent on humoring him.
"I'll see what you've got," I say.

He snaps the first picture and then produces a thick black screen from behind him. He holds this in front of the lens and takes a few more, changing position with each one.

"Give me your hand," he says.
I stop, wondering why all the niceness has left his face.
"Give me your hand!" He says more forcefully, grabbing my hand in his and holding it directly in front of the black screen.

I feel a small pinch on my hand immediately when the flash of his camera goes off and he smiles again.


I start to feel tired, like my brain has been slowed to a crawl. The man and the neighborhood around him becomes one blur.

All I see before I wake up is his still smiling face.