Lasting Hope .5

Meeks

The fresh air felt glorious. The south wind blowing against my skin. Their peculiar yellow sun beaming down me. The feeling of being free, it is...it is marvelous. Mix that in with the feeling of everything going to plan. Enrolled in the local high school, in her class, and same schedule as her, the plan couldn't be more perfect.

"We have arrived at our new home, nephew." Opal informed me. I looked at her over the emphasize of the role we're playing. The smirk was settled in her small oval lip.

"Why auntie, to say its quite small is an understatement. To think, I could fit two of these in my chamber entrance!" I kept staring at the tiny simpleness of the cottage." People actually live in these? How? How is it that they can live inside such confided places? Well, I suppose this will have to do for now." I said quickly, the glare Opal was giving me was burning through my eyes.

"I hope you are finished. You may attract unwanted attention if you stay out here, blabbering about nothing." Opal moved on ahead.

My face burned with shame. Who was I to complain under these circumstances? I skipped to catch up. It is kind of nice... I may even remember this cottage as my home. The yellow fluffy looking flowers swayed gently in the breeze. For whatever reason, they were spreaded all around the yard like weeds. They were pretty.

For the next hour or so, I helped Opal with the moving in. It's rather quite simple to make something out of air, because if you think about it, the air is something. It has atoms. Atoms make up everything, including humans. So what would someone do if they wanted something? One simply convinces the atoms floating around to condense into the desired shape, and BAM! You get something out of what seems like nothing. The thing is though, not everyone can talk to atoms and persuade them. It's considered magical, because this is the kind of power our kind has and no onw else. In no time at all, our little cottage looked as if we have been living there forever.

"Go on, Dylan, play outside like a boy your age." Opal tried out my new name. I nodded my understanding, and started to move my hands in a circular fashion. Faster and faster and faster. The image was in my head, the texture of it in my fingers. A blueish light started to appear inside my hands as a miniature hurricane began to exist. I suddenly stopped. And the air did too. A used looking soccer ball appeared in my palms. Almost like the one the boy threw at me. I smiled to myself, realizing just how much the atmosphere is getting used to this form of activity.

It gets really nice in the evening on Earth. It's a lot like the ones back in Angelica. The way the atmosphere calms down. How the evening flowers finally get their chance to share their fragrance, as the day ones close up for the night. How the blueness of the sky darkens into different hues of purple, and a warm orange appears. That warm orange mixes in with an even warmer yellow, that's somehow inspiring. Those colors eventually mix into a lovely shade of red, warm like a fire in the dead of winter. But it doesn't stop there. That red blends into a light pink, giving the sky a dainty and fragile look. The pink then goes into a purple, which darkness into a darker hue of blue. They're so magical. The only difference, Angelica has two sun's. Making the sunset more dramatic and drastic across the sky. I'm not complaining though.

It was during those moments of breathing in the intoxicating fragrance of red flowers and looking up at the heavens, that I missed the damsel in front of me. Practicing my kicking of the 'soccer ball' I was not paying attention. Well that is probably my first mistake on Earth. The ball escaped my feet, as if with a life of its own, and flew straight toward the girl. Judging by how it moved the air, and the time it took to get to her, well, I'm assuming it was going at least three kilometers per hour.

Oh sweet angels, what if she dies? Here I am, calculating its distance when I should be racing toward it trying to catch or deflect it. I ran as fast as I could, intentions of intercepting it, when it hit her. And her gasp. Oh, the sound of her gasp. Her gasp still sounds the same, even after more than a decade. But out of all people, it had to be her. I continued to study her, as she studied her arm. No bruise, as to be expected. My brain felt too sluggish to announce my presence to her. So I simply lowered my hand, facing to her.