The Devil’s Motorcycle

The Devil’s Motorcycle (10 minutes)

The world is split by the sound of a chainsaw sucked into a jet engine. The air pulls at my face like a drowning sailor and slams my eyes shut. I recoil from the heat of the flames that scorch a charred furrow in the melting tarmac with a stench of a million matchboxes. My cheeks burn like an astronaut flung out of the spacestation too near the sun.

The rider flashes past in a supernova of red, black and yellow fire, extinguishing the screams as he passes and leaving a trail of moans. I need to look away as my retinas dry like grapes on a forgotten vine, but am fixated on the mass of metal and buffeting noise. I begin to feel my body again as aches and fluids spread under my clothes, now a mess of charcoal, blood and tar.