My old bike was against the tree, paint chipping off of it. I wanted to go ride it there was nothing to do. I went outside and hopped on my bike. I rode over to my friend’s house. He got his bike too. We rode over to the park. I was ahead of him. I looked back and he wasn’t there. All I saw was a large black figure running off from the road. I chased after it and then suddenly my bike disappeared. My poor yellow bike was now smashed. All that was left was a trail of blood.