The Boy With The Bicycle

The icy mist still lingered around the trees and the early morning dew refused to lift from the grass and spider's webs that hung clumsily in the breeze. It was the year 1951; December the 2nd to be precise. A lone boy, barely 18 years of age stood working in a field beside the road. He was wrapped in a fraying blue jumper and a woolen red scarf. The boy shivered as he worked, sowing seeds and hoeing weeds from the ground in the field of cabbages that he worked in.

He often woke in the early hours of the morning and found it difficult to return to sleep, so he would go to work earlier than normal to help around the farm. The family that owned the farm at which he worked were not awake yet. No one was. It was too early for anyone to be awake. Well, that what he thought any way. 

A loud screech echoed through the mist, causing the boy to flinch and drop his shovel. He looked up to see a bicycle screaming down the hill, clearly out of control; a small boy perched upon the seat, frantically trying to keep his balance. All of a sudden the bicycle spun, and projected the boy into the air. He flew a while before hitting the surface of the road hard and skidding down the hill a tiny bit, as the bicycle toppled over and crashed into a bush.
The boy in the field instantly ran over to where the other boy had fallen. He clambered over the fence and knelt down beside him. 

'You all right?' he panted, he wasn't used to running in such cold weather. The boy on the road looked up in a mixture of wonder and fear. His brown eyes sparkled in the morning mist and his caramel hair dripping from condensed mist and sweat.  

'I...I...guess...so...' he stuttered in a small voice 'my bike...m...must have...slipped on....some ice....' he looked around anxiously 'w...where's my... v...violin?' he panicked.
The boy kneeling down stood up and jogged over to where the bicycle had rested. Clambering into the bush, he retrieved a blue violin case from the basket.  

'Is this it?' he called over as he walked back into the middle of the road.

'y...yes.....thank you,' he smiled, taking the case from him. 'My name's D...Drew..I live...in the... manor up on... the hill... with my family... what are you... d...doing up so early?' 

'hello...my name's Cyrus,' he replied happily 'I work on the farm just here....I came in early...I live in the village. How come you're up early?

'oh...' Drew looked down 'd...don't tell anyone...promise?' 

'I promise,' Cyrus reassured him. 

Drew paused for a few seconds before continuing in a small voice, as if he thought someone was listening in.
'I...I snuck out... w...while my family.... was asleep... I wanted to ...p...practice my violin....down by the river... my parents wouldn't... let me play this early.... and I just w...wanted some fresh air...' 

Cyrus smiled at him a while until out of the corner of his eye he noticed a bright red line start to trickle down the road.

'Oh god you're bleeding!' he gasped, trying to locate where about on Drew's leg the blood was coming from. 

'I...I'll be fine....' Drew whimpered, trying not to look at his leg. His face went pale when he saw the blood, almost as if he was afraid of bleeding to death. 

'No no, let me clean you up. I've got some water in my bag. Let me go get it.' Cyrus jumped up and ran off down the road. Minutes later he returned with a green rucksack. He quickly unzipped a pocket and pulled out a flask filled with water.
'Hold still.' He asked as he knelt back down and began cleaning the wound on Drew's knee. Drew squeaked and tensed as Cyrus cleaned his cut. After a few seconds he began to relax. 

'There,' Cyrus grinned when he had finished washing the cut. 'Let me bandage it for you.' Before Drew could say anything else, Cyrus was all ready ripping a piece of cloth from his jumper, and tying it around his knee.
'You take care of that for me,' he asked 'don't let it get infected.'