Notes: Written for a story challenge this morning. The topic was flight. Hope you like.
It's the same dream she always has.
Or rather, it starts the same.
Gentle winds caressing her face and the twisting feathers of her white wings. One foot tapping nervously as she gazes over the side of the cliff, wondering why she's here. A small rock pushed from the edge to tumble into the raging waters below.
And suddenly she knows why she's here.
It's not a conscious understanding, or any sort of uplifting revelation, because really, she still doesn't completely know. It's just a feeling in her very hollow bones that this is meant to be, that she's not here by accident.
So she gazes over the cliff again. As she does, a stray feather brushes lightly against her cheek, and she shivers. While the shudder runs through her body, she's still watching the waters below, and she notices that they've stilled. Which is unusual.
They never have before. At least, not in her previous dreams. And a thin snake of fear coils in her stomach as she wonders what has changed.
But nonetheless, she feels her wide wings fan out behind her. This has stayed the same, she thinks. She's thankful for it, because she knows what happens next.
Her feet begin moving of their own accord, pulling her away from the edge until she's ten feet away. She stops. She breathes. Her feet are moving again, and this time she's racing toward the open abyss, arms and wings spread, eyes closed, with not a care in the world.
It really is the same dream she always has.
Except it's just a little different this time.
As she plunges off the overhang, she realizes too little too late that her wings are gone.
She tumbles blindly into the darkness and the once again violent waters. She realizes now what must have changed.
And this time she doesn't wake up.