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The Absence of Wings


by roboticc

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Also by milkshakes004

All she had ever wanted was to fly. The others made it look so easy; they glided through skies on wings made of silk, while she watched them, her feet solidly placed on the unforgiving ground.

     Glancing around furtively to make sure no one was watching, she leapt into the air as hard as she could, spreading her pitiful wings. Her eyes shut tightly in concentration, she desperately tried to flap them, hoping a wind would help her alone.

     She fell back on the ground.

     As she watched the figures of the older Faeries silhouette against a darkening sky, she heard her mother calling out to her. She sighed, not moving, her gaze fixed to the beautiful figures swirling around in the Faerieland sky. Only when her mother called out irately did she shuffle her feet from her perch at the top of her hill and wander down the cobbled path to her modest home. Her mother must have seen the wistful longing in her eyes when she entered the house, for she gave a murmur of pity, setting the ladle down.

     "When will I fly, mama?" the young Faerie asked.

     "When you find your wings," her mother replied, setting down a bowl of soup in front of her.

     “My friends have all found their wings, though,” she responded sadly. The images of the faeries’ flight were still crystal clear in her mind: if only that could have been her.

     “Every faerie does not develop her wings at the same time,” her mother answered wisely. “Faeries are all unique in their own ways.”

     I wish I could just be like everybody else I know, thought the young faerie, now fiddling with her soup. She looked up at her mother. "They're so beautiful out there..." Almost subconsciously she seemed to turn towards her window, peering out towards the night sky in search of those familiar figures. A sharp, smart rap on the table brought her attention back to her mother.

     The older Faerie gazed down at her daughter sadly. "I can't help you, honey. Maybe you're just not meant to fly yet."

     The words cut to her; she drained her soup and the spoon fell on the table with a clatter. "I'm going out," she announced, ignoring her mother's soft disagreement. Not meant to fly. She thought every Faerie was meant to fly.....

     ***

     They gazed down sadly at the lone figure on the hill. She was there night after night, watching the sky as it came alive with the soft dance of the Faerie's flight. The Faeries seemed to move in tandem, leaving bright swirls that streaked across the sky, decorating it with lights and patterns. And every night, that one figure stood there and watched them.

     "Why doesn't she come fly with us?" The question came from a younger Fire Faerie, floating behind her. "Aria, why don't you just ask her to come fly?"

     The Air Faerie turned around. "It's not always so simple."

     "She can fly, can't she? We never said she couldn't join us!"

     A soft sigh breathed past Aria's lips. "Perhaps she can't." She looked down at the figure, who hadn't moved yet. "Tell the others I'll be back shortly. I think it's time I talked to her..."

     The Fire Faerie spun away in a curlicue of fire as Aria slowly drifted down to the hill, down to the young Faerie who stood still.

     “I’ve seen you here quite a lot,” started Aria as she glided toward the young Faerie, who was now staring in awe at the graceful movements of the Air Faerie’s gentle glide.

     “Yes, well, I love watching you fly... it’s just so...” – she searched for a word that could ever possibly convey her feelings – “beautiful,” she finished lamely.

     “Is there a reason why you haven’t joined us?” Aria questioned thoughtfully, her face kind.

     Perhaps the young Faerie could have reacted badly to the question, but she felt a sense of wonder that they wanted to include her. “Well, you see...” she began; but the shimmering flight of the faeries in the distance caught her eye, and she suddenly became very embarrassed of her inability.

     Aria seemed to nod. The younger Faerie gazed up at her, trying to decipher that small movement of her head. "I... I can't fly," she whispered, and her eyes brimmed with tears that sparkled under the radiance that seemed to cloak the graceful Aria.

     When Aria did not respond, she kept talking, some instinct trying to make her fill the silence. "I don't know why," she said. "I have my wings, although I guess they're not as beautiful as yours... I just can't fly. I try and it just doesn't work and then I fall." She was talking faster, her words punctuated by slight hiccups and the occasional falling teardrop.

     She paused, looking up at the Air Faerie. To her surprise, Aria smiled indulgently. "Perhaps, my dear, you simply haven't found your wings."

     The younger Faerie asked the question that had been lurking at the back of her mind, haunting her thoughts, since her conversation with her mother. "Maybe I'm just not meant to fly," she said, and she hung her head in shame.

     Aria slipped a slender finger under the younger Faerie's chin and made her look up. "Flying is our birthright. Don't you ever worry about that..... every Faerie is meant to fly."

     Her statement was greeted by silence.

     "It's getting late," Aria said finally. "Why don't you come back tomorrow night?"

     The younger Faerie's heart blossomed with a new feeling; hope. She hoped that tomorrow would finally be the night when she, too, would soar into the sky amongst the rest of her kind; when she would be part of that elegant and intricate dance she had admired for so long.

     "And remember," Aria added, "flying can never be forced. For Faeries, it's intuitive."

     The girl nodded shyly and ambled down the cobblestone path to her home, feeling Aria's kind silver eyes follow her every step of the way.

     ***

     The young faerie hurried up the cobbled path from her home the following night with a high heart. Aria’s words rang in her mind, giving her an optimistic outlook of the night. Daydreams of soaring among the faeries had occupied her thoughts during the day, but they did not carry that familiar melancholy note of longing. Instead they continued to fill her with hope, motivating her more than ever to make a good impression on Aria today.

     She was soon sweeping up the grassy hill, searching for the Air Faerie. Through habit, she glimpsed the Faeries, once again decorating the darkening sky with their stylish ballet. After a few long moments, Aria glided from the midst of the group over to the young faerie, a look of keen desire in her eyes.

     The young Faerie straightened, looking Aria in the eye. "You never told me your name," she said, hoping to sound intelligent and eager, instead of the self-pitying fool she had surely been the previous night.

     "Aria," the Air Faerie said with a smile. "Now, my dear, are you ready to fly?"

     The Faerie nodded, but as she looked at Aria's wings, a feeling of dread crept into her. The older Faerie's wings were magnificent and large, translucent, shimmering and elegant. In comparison, her own were feeble and tiny, and they quivered not with energy but with fear. How could they carry her anywhere?

     Aria looked at her keenly. "You're stressing," she murmured. "Remember what I told you last night. Flying is intuitive."

     "Intuitive," the young Faerie repeated, but she sounded - and felt - doubtful. Surely if it had been natural, she would have been able to fly before today?"

     The Air Faerie seemed to be reading her mind, and she smiled that gentle smile once more. "You're overthinking it. Now, fly."

     "Fly."

     "Yes," Aria said, her grin widening. "Just fly."

     The young Faerie gaped at her. "I told you, I can't fly..."

     "Yes, you can. Fly."

     "I can't," she said. "You're supposed to teach me!"

     "There's nothing to teach you. Surely you've heard it all?" Aria raised an eyebrow. "Clear your mind of every thought. Jump off this hill as hard as you can, and just spread your wings and fly."

     The girl could not form a coherent response. She just continued to stare at Aria, trying to make a sentence out of all the thoughts now swirling in her mind. "I can't jump," she murmured. "I won't be able to fly. I'll fall."

     "Clear your mind," Aria whispered. "Close your mind and get rid of every thought. Just think of gliding, and when you jump, don't move... just think of soaring, whisking through the air..."

     Aria continued to speak, her voice taking on a soft tone, a gentle cadence, her words morphing from instruction into a sweet song, a lullaby. The young Faerie's feet seemed to carry her to the edge of the hill of their own accord and her eyes drifted shut under Aria's melody. Time seemed to freeze, and then move forward at a slow, leisurely crawl. She felt her calves tighten and her feet push herself off the soft grass, but it was as if she was separate; her mind was utterly, blissfully blank.

     As the soft breeze caressed her face, the young Faerie saw it; with her eyes still closed, it seemed to materialise in her head, one gentle shade at a time. Hues and shapes overlapped each other until there was an image of her wings in her mind – but they weren't her wings as she had last seen them. They were larger, graceful, the wings of the adult Faeries she had admired for so long.

     And just like that, she was flying.

     The young Faerie had found her wings.

The End

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story! (:

 
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