January 4, 2012 § 2 Comments
Standing there on the edge, she questions whether flying would really be as intense as falling. Looking over the edge the ground below is visible only as it might be visible to a bird at the same height… spread far, spread wide, and as detailed as a mark of pen on paper.
For a moment, her heart flutters. If she falls she may never make it to the bottom in a single piece — if she did make it, she’d never remain in one piece. Shaking her head, she steps back with a shiver.
Flutter away, little bird. Today waits. Flutter away, little angel.
Her toes line the edge. Nothing should keep her away. She was born to fly… if she had been born. Everything about her is made to soar across winds and dive through trees. Knowing that she smiles and spreads her arms, stepping a single foot over the edge.
Her wings twitch and she steps back.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will fly.
Day 4 – 365 Stories