Winged

Chapter 1

In the beginning, it was Terra who created all in all. And, in which was made, was indeed perfect in every way. From the sea, mountains arose by her will. Valleys formed in far off places for humans, every geographical feature was added after the other. But, calamities happened as well, the world was full of stability and peace when Terra made these lands, but over time, some things quickly began to change. The men of the world were no longer content with their machines and they modified themselves to grow wings. In the midst of war and of hardship after this time, the Prophet came forth and defeated discord. The Prophet spoke of a religion that would revolutionize the face of man for generations to come.

This religion gave mankind the enlightenment to envision another era, it spoke of teachings of obedience and delicacy among family members. Even the face of the planet was wiped with cordiality. And the religion was named Icarianism and it was the basis for our society.

It was a brisk monday in February. Michael Caius awoke at the sound of his blaring alarm-clock at six fifteen in the morning. He was not feeling like getting up. His back hurt, his stunted and restrained wings hurt: everything hurt. This mattress sucks, thought Michael, this mattress fucking sucks. He thought about smashing the snooze button and sleeping for a few more minutes but he felt too awake already. He got up from his bed and got dressed. He could hear the TV on downstairs: Mom was already watching some inane show like Good Morning, Bucephalia! She was probably watching it for the host. Michael rolled his eyes at the thought.

He wandered downstairs and went straight for the cupboard. Nothing was inside. Typical. "Hey mom, where's the rations?" His mom didn't hear him and he yelled it.

"What are you yelling for?"

"There's no food, again."

"Yeah there is. Look in the back."

Michael waltzed himself to the back and found a cardboard box of assorted processed food. There was a container of "sweetened wheat cereal" and he poured some into a bowl. He hates powdered milk so he didn't make any. He'd rather eat his cereal without. His mom noticed when she walked into the kitchen and saw him eating dry cereal.

"You know that ain't good for you."

"TV ain't good for you either."

Michael's mom gave him a look and put her hands on her hips. What, are you mad? Over the sound of his own crunching of dry, boring cereal, he could hear the morning news broadcast ramble on about a heretic who was shot down in the public square. It was too early for news and impulsively Michael yawned.

He wouldn't even think of the morning news until much later that day. He was much more focused on going to school and getting his late work passed in. He was dressed in dirty blue jeans which he forgot to put in the laundry hamper. Whatever, I'll try to remember to do it tomorrow. He wore flannel shirt that showed his age way too much. It's unexplainable how a shirt can show your age, but somehow it can.

It was brisk outside and Michael was going to walk without wearing anything else. His mom nagged very loudly: "Put on a damn coat or something." He humored her and put on an unsightly gray hoodie. It had an ugly stain on the side from last week's lunch. He whispered to himself on his way out after saying "goodbye," "I hope something interesting happens today."