It was a sunny day. The birds were singing their songs. In the distance an uncommon sound could be heard. There was a small white house behind the trees. Around the plants there were pastel colours. The scent of summer floated in the air. All at once the bell rang. It turned out that an old friend of Mr Floid was in front of the door. He had arrived with his flabbergasting and charming motorbike. Suddenly a compelling desire took hold of Mr Floid and he got on the motorbike and rode away.That was the beginning of a beginning. A pilot was born.
By David Anderson