Day 145: Flying — The Shark Agenda

Write about having wings and what you would do.

"Are you sure this will work, Eva?" My sister, Emilia, asked me. She looked skeptical. She had every right to be. I was attempting to fly.

I'll admit, I got a swell of confidence after literally ridding my mother's body of cancer. So yes, this attempt to fly may end up being nothing more than a humble reminder that I can't do everything. But what's to stop me from trying?

Emilia, ever the joker, got me a pair of black angel wings from the pop-up Halloween store across the street from her house. "I figured this will help you get in the zone." She laughed for a good five minutes but I put them on anyway.

She and I stood on the shore of a beach town just outside of my downtown apartment. The sun was setting so the beach cleared out pretty quickly. There was no one around us to gawk and stare. That would've made this much harder.

I pulled the Grimoire out of my backpack and flipped to the earmarked page. Emilia stepped closer but kept her touch just out of reach. She was both fascinated and terrified of it. Me too, come to think of it.

This particular spell was in Creole and its purpose was to cause whatever I touch to levitate and give me dominion over it until I let go. These wings would come in handy after all. I adjusted them on my back, stepped forward slightly and read the spell out loud three times. I wasn't sure if I was saying the words correctly, I just started learning the language.

A shiver ran all the way through my body. I heard Emilia gasp. I placed the Grimore in her hands and touched my wings. They immediately fluttered, awash with a pale pink glow that sometimes emanated from my hands when I performed magic.

"Oh my God," Emilia whispered as I rose a few feet off the ground.

It was a weird sensation but not unpleasant. It felt like the wings had become a part of me, like a new part of my brain opened up and now I can access all these invisible limbs I could never use before. I tentatively pushed forward and flew 20 yards across the beach.

Yes, I screamed the entire time. After about an hour I had gotten the hang of at least controlling my floating before I felt mentally drained and came down.

Emilia rushed over. "HOLY FUCK YOU CAN FLY."

I can fucking fly.

“Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”