Another Monday morning – Pierre steps outside to cycle to his shop. As usual, the high street is quiet, and young Francois nods good morning as he passes. Today’s papers are stacked neatly, ready for anyone interested in the outside world.
He pauses, listens. There’s a rumbling, nearby.
“Stand back, you old fool,” someone bellows, and Pierre hugs the wall as a helicopter swoops, a tornado of pumping legs whirls by, then swerving vehicles and a running, screaming mob, cameras aloft.
As they disappear around the corner, Pierre gazes after them, stunned. The morning rush hour is getting crazier. He’ll leave earlier in future.
This is my offering for Friday Fictioneers, somewhat late. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for looking after this weekly flash fiction challenge.
In my house, the Tour de France provides late night viewing each July. No, we’re not really cycling fans, but there’s something captivating about the event, and its wonderful images of the French countryside, and interesting snippets of information about French cooking, French cheesemaking, French wine production etc. I wanted to make Pierre a cheesemaker, but there were no words to spare for such character details.
There are plenty of images and videos of the race online, but this little one shows some crazy cycling mishaps; and I hope no animals or humans were harmed in the making of it.