In Flight

by Michael Deery

I was flying.

It was a wondrous feeling. I felt the beat of my wings; a steady, rhythmic sound. I flew. Just for the joy of it. Not particularly high, but fast. Speed. I flew through the forest, dodging bushes, vines, and trees. Nothing could touch me. I flew right over a road, the people in the cars couldn’t see me, I was so fast. If the people in them could have seen me, instead of a blur, I’m sure they would shout for my joy, and my joy would bring joy to them. I would be their savoir, their hero. I would help them wherever they might need me. I would always be there, watching out for them. When evil attacked, I would be there immediately.

I smiled. A great, huge grin; showing to the entire world that I was here to stay, and to help. I saw another road up ahead. This time, I slowed down, slow enough that they could see me. They would cheer at my glory, and I would cheer too; for I have found a place in this world, and it is helping all of my people. I slowed even more as I reached the road, and then, seeing a car, I hovered in the air, I smiled. I waved. I showed those people that I would never abandon them.

*****

Just outside of New York City, the father of a family riding in a large green van turned on the windshield-wipers. There was a fly on the glass. Dumb bugs.

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