MASTER RACE

That was one of the last things Ellie and Boyd had seen at the cinema.
Jeepers friggin’ Creepers!
If only he’d known that their days were to be cut so short - he wouldn’t have wasted them on trashy horror movies and Pizza Express.

The thought of Ellie still seared his heart.

‘An unfortunate accident…a tragic mishap…an act of god?’
He’d heard it called many things by the local newspapers and by well wishers since her death.
None of them came close to describing the cause of the agony and loneliness that he endured every day without her.

The motorbike had been illegally overtaking a car on the high street...
Ellie had been crossing the road properly; with an arm full of black bin bags destined for the Red Cross charity shop, just old clothes and bric-a-brac.
She hadn’t seen the bike…She hadn’t made it to hospital…

DOA, the medics had called it.

Boyd had been trailing behind as usual, but had heard the impact a full street away.
He’d started to run; somehow knowing, dreading, but sensing the truth of the situation before he rounded the corner.

Crowds.
Yelling.
Crying.

Further down the street, a bike on its side - wheels spinning madly.
And Ellie…lying twisted on the ground…old clothes now fluttering in the wind.