War Bicycle
When the war has lasted so long, a new reality is planted in people's thoughts. For example, thoughts of respect before the authorities, care for what is said, and a lot of fear. Those times bring out the worst in people and in search of any benefit with the winning side, they are capable of anything. People had to be stronger and more conservative than ever. Especially with the news that was coming in...
Allied forces were pounding our defenses. We knew that the end of all this madness was near. But... what would become of our fate? Although secretly this was being talked about, many agreed on one thing, whatever fate comes we will accept it, for being on the side we are on and worse, for accepting the follies we allow in the name of our glorious flag. This glorious flag will soon be trampled...
That morning was no different from the others, I was in the courtyard, waiting for my traveling companion who was already quite late. In these times it used to happen, maybe he had been captured, was badly wounded out there, or was dead. These thoughts were extremely routine, it gave me regret, I already liked him. Although it was morning, it was already typical to have a darkened sky from which ashes used to fall as if a volcano had just exploded. People were already used to living in such a gloomy panorama, they just put on a hat and went to their respective destinations without thinking about anything else. Meanwhile, I was still waiting to start my delivery work.
A couple of men came out of the residence of the supreme Bhiller, the leading chancellor of the nationalist movement. Some categorize him as the man who woke up the nation, others as the one responsible for the misfortunes we were suffering. I, a survivor, had no opinion about him, I was glad that I was not noticed, nor did I play an important role, so that at any time I could disappear without anyone missing me or blaming me for things.
The men walking at the entrance decided to approach me and one of them stared at me while the other kept talking to him. I recognized him immediately, it was the supreme Bhiller himself, I straightened up as best I could and tried to salute him, but the commander who accompanied him spoke a little louder with a tone of concern.
Sir, we must retreat, concentrate all our forces in a strategic place, and from there design the offensive to regain power, I do not believe in defeat yet. We can deal against the Russians or the allies, but not against both at the same time and for sure when they run into each other on the way they will kill each other.
Defeat? Had we been defeated? Why are they talking about such a delicate subject in front of me? I just remained silent, watching how that commander was trying to make himself understood by his leader who seemed absorbed in me. That was making me nervous, I wanted to ask him if he needed me to perform some special task for him, but the words did not come out, I just remained silent.
Bhiller raised his hand, no doubt it was an order to silence his commander, who understood and obeyed instantly. He approached me and it was inevitable to feel a shiver, not at all comfortable. As if evil itself was approaching me, his warm but heavy hand lay on me without any permission, I could not even tremble, I only sweated cold, I felt extremely uncomfortable. But, I knew very well what were the intentions of this leader, whom I made so much effort to avoid.
I said to myself, I must do better than ever, I must glide elegantly, and avoid any bumps so that he would not be uncomfortable, I had to be the best in the world for my leader. If I didn't I was sure my fate would lie with so many other bikes that were stored for the rest of their lives. Surely all my bolts would rust or worse, I would be taken to the junkyard to be destroyed on the spot.
I swallowed thickly with so many ideas coming into my head and swallowed thicker when the inevitable was happening, Bhiller was riding on top of me. Compared to my companions, this one was so heavy, I could barely hold him up. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, I wished for him to panic and get off me. But, he didn't, he had a whim he wanted to satiate.
His commander intervened for a moment before he pressed the pedal. "Does that sound like a good idea supreme leader? It's been a long time since you've been on a bicycle" Bhiller looked at him with such contempt that the man took a step back, removed his cap, apologized, and lowered his head.
After that, the pedal was tight and I was determined not to drop it with all my might. He was doing pretty well. I knew we had to have speed, we made a few laps from here to there, and we entered his property, which was gigantic, behind us, the commander was following us at a semi-trot. The place had paths where we could "roll" (as my companions and I called it), we made several laps inside the residence and the place was so beautifully kept that I didn't have to worry about the potholes.
Now and then I would hear a chuckle or two, I guess I was doing pretty good. For me, it was a ride I really longed for a long time, the war, had taken this freedom away from me, at that moment I wished I had wings to fly with my leader. It seems that, without wanting to, I had already taken a side, next to my leader, this peace and this happiness that he granted me in these dark times. I think it is something that many others, close to this man must feel, a rejoicing, a happiness, a yearnings, a path to follow, something very special indeed.
Perhaps if we won the war this feeling would last longer. I thought about the war again and so many comrades I had, happy, scared, sad, silent, upset, truly there were many comrades, I wish they felt this. why must there be a war? why does this war exist? I thought of the commander's words, to withdraw, to plot an offensive, and with that, to start again. To start again? this suffering? this sadness? this sickening climate?
With so many ideas I was starting to get upset and suddenly I received a blow from the leader, what happened? I asked myself, there is no bump and we are not unbalanced. Then came another blow and another, it seemed that the frustration was catching up with our leader who could only appease his thoughts for a few brief minutes. But, he kept hitting me and I didn't want him to hit me anymore. I said, "don't take your mistakes and shortcomings out on others, can't you see that we are suffering?" He kept bothering me and I thought about dropping him. But, if I drop it, my fate will be cast, my parts will become pieces of something else, which will surely serve to kill others.
But, the blows went on and on, my annoyance increased, then I thought that this same thing he had done to other bicycles like me, he treated them badly and so to many of my companions, to many citizens and to that poor commander who gasped and still followed him to keep him from hurting himself. The annoyance turned into anger, for the outrages of this man, for the injustices and for what he had done to us.
Without further hesitation, I said to myself, "what difference does another life make, one life for millions of others, it's a fair trade." So, I accelerated with all my might, as if a T-34 tank was following me and wanted to crush me. This caught Bhiller by surprise and he held me tighter. Good, I said, I've got you now. So I accelerated further, heading towards the street, but before I reached it, I threw myself with all my might against a concrete wall with my passenger.
I was somewhat injured, but he had suffered the fate of one of his former companions when we inadvertently crashed into a similar wall. My handlebars, during the crash, turned sharply and hit the passenger's stomach. For my former companion it was a sharp blow that partially stuck him, knocked him unconscious and he bled to death, it was the loss I had felt most responsible for and I reflected so much on the blow that I knew how to avoid it or in this case how to replicate it.
Immediately after the collision, Bhiller was being attended to by doctors who were turning his head from side to side, there was nothing to be done, his stomach and some organs were severely damaged. His death would come hours later. But, it was extremely painful to tell the country that their chancellor and party leader had died from a fall on a bicycle. So, agreeing that surrender was inevitable without their beloved leader, they made his death look like suicide and reported it to the press and the world.
That same night, the weapons of justice or injustice, who knows, were pointed at me, the bicycle that killed our leader. That morning, when I was riding it, it was the happiest day of my life and at the same time it was the most stressful day of all, keeping that in mind, I was at peace with leaving this world behind. I don't regret what I did. I just hope I can meet my passengers wherever I go.
Bicicleta de Guerra
Cuando la guerra ha durado tanto, una nueva realidad se siembra en el pensamiento de las personas. Por ejemplo, pensamientos de respeto ante las autoridades, cuidado con lo que se dice y mucho temor por supuesto. Esos tiempos sacan lo peor de las personas y en búsqueda de cualquier beneficio con el bando ganador son capaces de todo. Las personas tenían que ser más fuertes y conservadoras que nunca. Especialmente con las noticias que estaban llegando…
Las fuerzas aliadas estaban machacando nuestras defensas. Sabíamos que el final de toda esta locura estaba por terminar. Pero… ¿qué será de nuestro destino? Aunque en secreto se hablaba de esto, muchos estaban de acuerdo con algo, sea el destino que venga lo aceptaremos, por estar en el bando en el que estamos y peor aún, por aceptar las locuras que permitimos en el nombre de nuestra gloriosa bandera, una gloriosa bandera que pronto será pisoteada…
Aquella mañana no era diferente a las otras, estaba en el patio, esperando a mi compañero de viaje que estaba ya bastante retrasado. En estos tiempos solía pasar, tal vez había sido capturado, estaba mal herido por ahí o muerto. Estos pensamientos eran sumamente de rutina, me daba pesar, ya me estaba cayendo bien. Aunque era de mañana, ya era típico tener un cielo oscurecido del cual solía caer cenizas como si un volcán acabara de estallar. Las personas ya estaban acostumbradas a vivir en ese panorama tan lúgubre, sólo se colocaban un sombrero y se dirigían a sus respectivos destinos sin pensar en nada más. Mientras tanto, yo seguía esperando para comenzar mis labores de entregas.
Un par de hombres salieron de la residencia del supremo Bhiller, el canciller líder del movimiento nacionalista. Algunos lo categorizan como el hombre que despertó a la nación, otros como el responsable de las desdichas que estábamos sufriendo. Yo, era un superviviente, no opinaba nada al respecto de él, me alegro de no ser notado, ni desempeñar un rol importante, así en cualquier momento podía desaparecer sin que nadie me extrañase o me culpara de cosas.
Los hombres de estar caminando en la entrada decidieron acercarse a mí y uno de ellos se me quedó mirando mientras el otro le seguía hablando. Lo reconocí inmediatamente, era el mismísimo supremo Bhiller, me enderecé como pude y traté de saludarlo, pero el comandante que lo acompañaba, habló un poco más fuerte con un tono de preocupación.
Señor, debemos replegarnos, concentrar todas nuestras fuerzas en un lugar estratégico, y desde ahí diseñar la ofensiva para recuperar el poder, no creo en la derrota aún. Podemos lidiar contra los rusos o contra los aliados, pero no contra ambos al mismo tiempo y seguro cuando se topen en el camino se maten entre ellos…
¿Derrota? ¿Habíamos sido derrotado? Pensé. ¿Por qué hablan de un tema tan delicado delante de mí? Sólo quedé en silencio, viendo como aquel comandante trataba de hacerse entender con su líder quién parecía absorto en mí. Definitivamente eso me estaba poniendo nervioso, quería preguntarle si necesitaba que realizara alguna labor especial para él, pero las palabras no me salían, solo seguí en silencio.
Bhiller levanta su mano, sin duda era una orden para silenciar a su comandante, quién entendió y obedeció al instante. Se me acercó y fue inevitable sentir un escalofrío para nada cómodo. Cómo si, la maldad misma fuese la que se estuviese aproximando, su mano cálida pero pesada se postraba sobre mí sin ningún permiso, no podía ni temblar, sólo sudaba frío, me sentí sumamente incómodo. Pero, sabía muy bien cuales eran las intenciones de este líder, a quién tanto esfuerzo hice por evitar.
Me dije para mí mismo, debo hacerlo mejor que nunca, debo deslizarme con elegancia, evitar cualquier bache para que él no se incomode, debía ser el mejor del mundo para mi líder. Si no lo hacía seguro mi destino yacería junto a tantas otras bicicletas que fueron almacenadas por el resto de sus vidas. Seguro todos mis tornillos se oxidarían o peor aún, sería llevado al chatarrero para ser destruido en el acto.
Tragué grueso con tantas ideas que llegaron a mi cabeza y tragué más grueso cuando lo inevitable estaba pasando, Bhiller se estaba montando sobre mí. En comparación a mis compañeros, éste era muy pesado, apenas lo pude sostener. Pareció titubear un momento, desee para que se asustara y se bajara de mí. Pero, no lo hizo, tenía un capricho que quería saciar.
Su comandante intervino un momento, antes de que apretara el pedal. “¿Le parece una buena idea supremo líder? Ha pasado mucho tiempo desde que se montó en una bicicleta” Bhiller lo miró con tal desprecio que el hombre dio un paso atrás, se quitó la gorra, pidió disculpas y bajó la cabeza.
Después de eso, el pedal era apretado y yo me proponía a no dejarlo caer con todas mis fuerzas. Él lo hacía bastante bien. Sabía que teníamos que tener velocidad, dimos unas cuantas vueltas de aquí allá, entramos a su propiedad, que era gigantesca, atrás de nosotros, el comandante nos seguía con un semi trote. El lugar, tenía caminerías dónde podíamos “rodar” (como le llamábamos mis compañeros y yo) dimos varias vueltas dentro de la residencia y el lugar estaba tan hermosamente cuidado que no debía preocuparme por los baches.
De vez en cuando escuchaba alguna que otra risa, supongo lo estaba haciendo muy bien. Para mí, era un paseo que de verdad anhelaba desde hace mucho tiempo, la guerra, me había quitado esta libertad, en ese momento desee tener alas para volar con mi líder. Parece que, sin querer, ya había tomado un bando, al lado de mi líder, de esta paz y de esta felicidad que me concedió en estos tiempos tan oscuros. Creo que es algo que muchos otros, cercanos a este hombre deben sentir, un regocijo, una felicidad, anhelos, un camino que seguir, algo muy especial sin duda.
Tal vez si ganamos la guerra este sentimiento duraría más. Pensé en la guerra nuevamente y en tantos compañeros que tuve, alegres, asustados, tristes, silenciosos, molestos, de verdad fueron muchos compañeros, desearía que sintieran esto. ¿por qué debe existir una guerra? ¿por qué existe esta guerra? Pensé en las palabras del comandante, replegarse, para maquinar una ofensiva y con eso, comenzar de nuevo. ¿Comenzar de nuevo? ¿este sufrimiento? ¿esta tristeza? ¿este clima tan enfermizo?
Con tantas ideas me empezaba a molestar y de repente recibí un golpe departe del líder. ¿qué pasó? Me pregunté, no hay bache y no nos desequilibramos. Luego vino otro golpe y otro, parece que la frustración estaba alcanzando a nuestro líder que solo pudo apaciguar sus pensamientos unos breves minutos. Pero, me seguía golpeando y yo no quería que me golpeara más. Dije, “no pagues tus errores y defectos con los demás, ¿no ves que estamos sufriendo?” Me seguía molestando y pensé en dejarlo caer. Pero, si lo dejo caer, mi destino estará echado, mis partes se convertirán en piezas de otra cosa, que seguro servirá para matar a otros.
Pero, los golpes seguían y seguían, mi molestia aumentaba, luego pensé que esto mismo le había hecho a otras bicicletas como yo, las trató mal y así a muchos de mis compañeros, a muchos ciudadanos y a ese pobre comandante que jadeaba y aún lo seguía para evitar que se hiciera daño. La molestia se convirtió en ira, por los atropellos de este hombre, por las injusticias y por lo que nos había hecho.
Sin dudarlo más, me dije: “qué más da otra vida, una vida por millones de otras, es un cambio justo”. Así que, aceleré con todas mis fuerzas, cómo si un tanque T-34 me siguiera y me quisiese aplastar. Esto agarró por sorpresa a Bhiller quién me sujetó con más fuerza. Bien, dije ya te tengo atrapado. Así que aceleré más, en dirección hacia la calle, pero antes de llegar a ella, me lancé con todas mis fuerzas contra un muro de concreto junto a mi pasajero.
Yo quedé algo lastimado, pero él había sufrido el destino de uno de sus antiguos compañeros cuando sin querer nos estrellamos contra un muro parecido. Mi manubrio, durante el golpe giró bruscamente y golpeó el estómago del pasajero. Para mi antiguo compañero fue un golpe seco que se clavó parcialmente en él, lo dejó inconsciente y murió desangrado, fue la perdida de la que más responsable me había sentido y reflexioné tanto sobre el golpe que sabía cómo evitarlo o en este caso como replicarlo.
Acto seguido de la colisión, Bhiller estaba siendo atendido por unos médicos que giraban la cabeza de un lado a otro, no había nada que hacer, su estómago y algunos órganos fueron severamente dañados. Su muerte, llegaría horas más tarde. Pero, era sumamente penoso decirle al país que su canciller y líder del partido, había muerto por una caída en bicicleta. Así que, acordaron que la rendición era inevitable ya sin su amadísimo líder, su muerte la hicieron parecer un suicidio y así mismo la reportaron a la prensa y al mundo.
Esa misma noche, las armas de la justicia o injusticia quién sabe, apuntaron hacia mí, la bicicleta que dio muerte a nuestro líder. Esa mañana, cuando lo paseaba, fue el día más feliz de mi vida y al mismo tiempo fue el día más estresante de todos, teniendo eso en mente, estaba tranquilo con dejar atrás a este mundo. No me arrepiento de lo que hice. Sólo espero poder encontrarme con mis pasajeros allá dónde voy.
There are many sentences in here that deserve special notice, that have biting significance. I choose one to illustrate the brilliance of this piece:
There is so much in the sentence, but the words, without any permission sum up the arrogance of this leader, the absolutism of his command, and the subjugation of those who obey (willingly or otherwise). I've read a lot of stories in my time and it is rare that one surprises me. This one did.
The rebellion of a simple bicycle, willing (yes! a bicycle with will) to sacrifice itself for a greater cause sets a model for others.
I look forward to reading more from you.
Greetings. Thank you very much for highlighting that in the story. This character, was only going to be known by what people knew about him, the rumors he produced.
His four performances in the story were determinant to show that character. A character too arrogant and grotesque to be missed. Just for a moment, it might create doubt as to whether he deserved that denouement, his moments of joy on the bike. This tells me that as cold as his heart was, he still had some good in him. That doubt, too, was important, because the ending of the story was still unpredictable and that to me is very important in a good story.
I usually write, though. Here on Hive is the only place where I have shared my stories with others. I'm still learning, I hope that what I can offer you will continue to be as good as this story, which also gave me a lot of pleasure in creating it.
Thank you!
Only cartoon cutouts are without complexity. Pol Pot had a daughter, whom he loved. Hitler was reportedly fond of his dog. Your commander's moment of joy makes him human, and relatable.
I think the story was wonderfully balanced. I do expect you to live up to that standard in the future 😄 But you are also complex, so write what pleases you and hope for a great outcome.
I'm rooting for you!
A standing ovation for this!!! I wish you could see me clapping or dropping my device to say wow. This was a perfectly good use of the prompt.
No one ever talks about the inanimate objects that we abuse as humans just because we feel they are machines and have no thoughts nor emotions.
But you led us down this path to show us that those inanimate objects have feelings too and if they have a reason to hurt us it's mostly because we mishandle them or treated them with less affection. Good job on this one @flquin
Thank you very much!
I'm so glad you liked it. I feel it's like that with our objects. They are part of us, part of who we are and I think a lot of our energy is transmitted to them. You can see it with something not so inanimate, for example a little dog. A puppy that is genuinely loved and happy, no matter if it's a little ugly, tends to get a lot of attention from other people to the point that they want to interact with it. That's the luck that many stray dogs don't have, to be seen or loved in that way.
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For a first post, you have outdone yourself. This is beautiful, you hit all the right notes.
Hello!
Thank you very much for the appreciation. I am very glad that it was so well received.
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This is sophisticated, effective, meaningful writing. You leave the reader with a mind troubled by thoughts of conflict.
The piece starts cleverly. We don't know the bicycle is the narrator. When we find out, our attention, which is already yours, is more fully in your hands. The justice of the bicycle's action is clear.
While this story impresses us with the quality of its concept and its execution, we do have to caution about the use of violence. We have strict rules about graphic violence. Ordinarily this might not receive an upvote from the Inkwell, but the piece is so worthy and the violence a necessary element in the story,that we have stretched our rule a bit for you.
Note these passages, please:
One of the difficulties in upvoting a piece with violence such as this is that less sophisticated writers might not draw distinctions between what you do in this story and what they might do in their stories. How does one describe gratuitous?? It's hard, so we just have a rather fast rule about violence.
Thank you for sharing this remarkable story with us. It is one that will leave every reader thinking.
Hi, thank you very much indeed for reading and giving such good merits to my writing. I am satisfied with your words alone.
I guess, I have sinned by ignorance and I agree with that very important rule. Sometimes one gets carried away by the imagination and leaves aside the rest, how the safety of potential readers, however words can be very harmful. I just really hope that readers do not misrepresent my writing and make bad decisions for their works or have come up with a wrong thought about it.
If you feel like making any other decisions regarding this writing, I will understand. I am already more than forewarned for future works.
Thank you very much
Nice write up. I wonder why your leader was hitting you continuously. Indeed it's better to give one life for a million of others.
Greetings, thank you very much!
That's what frustration does. Many things were going through his head, he had in his hands the destiny of his nation, maybe he did not accept defeat, he was disappointed in himself for not doing some things differently, maybe for having ceded power to some of his close ones who did not do well? The truth is that his discomfort was draining him in the first object at hand. Don't get me wrong, Bhiller looked like he needed a moment to get off that bike and he was able to relax, laugh and be happy in those few brief minutes. But, he was so overwhelmed by his responsibilities that he couldn't enjoy himself anymore and that moment of enjoyment, turned into a moment of somewhat angry reflection.
I agree, it seems somewhat logical, but I would not like to be in a situation like that, the courage it takes to take that leap and overcome all fears is indescribable.
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A truly beautiful story. Everyone's story on this prompt focused on using the bicycle as an inanimate object but you on the other told a story from the point of view of the bicycle, that was quite a unique experience for me.
A bicycle that killed the rider out of spite, nobody could bother to seek justice since it isn't living in the first place, it will just be marked as an accident
Hello, Happy day. Thank you very much for that lovely appreciation.
This kind of stories, are of that kind that one feels very comfortable writing them, of course the end can be something good and bad, because that object that is supposed to have been created to give happiness and transport people, became an emissary of death, although with much regret, that usually happens in times of war.
In the end, although I wrote that he was executed. It could be understood as if it was his own sense of guilt that was executing her. For the same reason you comment, who would execute a bicycle?
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Whenever I read stories that makes inanimate objects speak about their experience, it's mostly emotional for me. Bicycle is seen as just a mere tool to achieve an objective but they face the heat of doing that too.
I totally agree with you. Sometimes it is a little difficult for people to put themselves in other people's shoes. Now, putting yourself in the position of objects is usually something much more difficult to assimilate.
This is an excellent reflection. I loved it.
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Thank you for the wonderful piece. Cheers!!!
The tale of a war bike. Quiet detailed and gruesome with captivating detailing.
Thanks for the good review. I think the purpose of the story served its purpose.
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