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God knows what had happened before I got there but as I found it lying half on its back in the middle of the track. A wing flexed from the concrete as it turned its head, beak gaping. I freewheeled past, wondering if I should do something, but as I dithered distance passed along with responsibility. I could not be bothered to stop and turn, ride back up the hill, all for the miserable task of delivering mercy. As I peddled on it suffered still, agonised and fearful. And I had made it so.

Story by:

Matthew Roy Davey

29 July 2018