The Winged [HIATUS]

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Hope is necessary in every condition."  —William Samuel Johnson

[ C H A P T E R   T W E N T Y – F I V E ]

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Something slams into the side of the car. We careen wildly out of control, spinning violently like one of those carnival rides that make you puke your guts up. The only sound I can hear is the crunching of metal and shattered glass…

The images from the dream replay through my brain as I plummet. I extend my arms, palms down, and cup my fingers to catch the wind.

The world is spiraling and blending together like a watercolor painting; my nose is flooded with the stench of scorching rubber and gasoline.... Tongues of fire lick at my flesh, hungry for blood.

The sound of running water grows louder and louder. I don’t remember closing my eyes a second time, but my vision is dark. I remember what comes next.

I lurch forward, wailing like a banshee as my insides are smashed to pieces… I can’t recall the last time I felt so scared. I close my eyes and pray that the pain will end soon…

This time, though, there is no impact. Spray from the stream at the bottom of the ravine tickles my feathers. I look up at the sky again. There are no clouds; the familiar constellations wink at me like old friends.

I have survived because I can levitate.

I swipe at my face with my jacket sleeve, still sad but smiling as I float back up. I relived my father’s final moments on this Earth; I feel closer to him now than ever. He would have wanted me to live on. As much as it sucks, I have a purpose and it is my responsibility to see it through.

Everybody dies… but it’s not my time. Not yet.

Gaining altitude, I notice a faint blue glow emanating from the top of the cliff. It has to be the Silver Lady. I beat my wings hard and alight on the highway. Everyone else has already landed. They are gathered in a semi-circle around her, but there is a space directly in front the Lady that is unoccupied. I step forward to fill it. My friends have so much faith in me – they knew that I wouldn’t go through with suicide.

“You are close,” speaks the Lady.

“You can talk?!” I exclaim, startled. Tempest seems equally taken aback, but the others are unimpressed.

“Of course,” the Lady replies, wearing the tiniest of grins. Her voice is impossibly lovely. Melodious. “But I can only project my words so far. It’s a shame.”

“So we’re… within range?”

She nods. “As I said, you are close to your destination. The King’s Peak colony eagerly awaits your arrival.”

Logan swears loudly and kicks a stone off the side of the mountain. “Bullshit!”

The Lady shifts to get a better view of her. The movement causes her ponytail to glide in languid circles, almost as if it is underwater. “Why do you resist your destiny with such vehemence?”

“Because there’s no such thing as destiny!” Logan spits. “I have free will!”

“It is true that our futures are shaped by our decisions,” the Lady concedes, “but, to reference a human idiom, all roads lead to Rome.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her wings are poised for take-off, feathers bristling with anger.

“Think of life like a path through the woods. There may be many forks in the road, and you can choose which way to go, but you are still on a predetermined course. And all of these paths will eventually converge.”