Feathers Falling

Chapter One

 I stared at the feather on the ground. It was a beautiful orange feather with hues of blue and pink. I wondered if I would ever meet the person with a feather like this. I reached back behind my head and felt the place where wings would normally begin to grow at 5, and be fully grown at 10. I sighed as I saw a couple with the exact same pair of wings fly across the sky- soulmates.

All humans have wings, nobody knows when people started growing wings, but now its the norm. Only two people in the entire world have the exact same shape, color, and size of wings, and they are soulmates. Everyone has wings. Except for me.

When I was younger, all the little kids were starting to get their wings, but I wasn't. The doctor said that sometimes wings begin to develop later than normal. However, when my wings still weren't developing at 6, my parents took me for an x-ray to see what was wrong. They feared for the worst, and their fears were spoken for. I would never have wings.

My parents were devastated. They bought a brace that was supposed to reshape the bones of the rib cage into wings, but it didn't work. They kept trying new things but nothing worked. At this point, I realized they didn't love me for who I was, so I ran away, aged 14 at this point, and have been just living on the streets since.

Right now, I'm 19, and I just finished high school. My home is a small apartment on the east side of town. All it has are plain gray walls, a boring tan carpet floor, and all the furniture is black. My bed is made with red sheets right now. The pillows are white, and my lucky stuffed animal, a squid, still sits on my bed. The couch I a fake leather love seat. The kitchen table is glass with black wicker chairs. I have a microwave, fridge/freezer, oven, stove, and a small amount of counter space. All I have to decorate my room are a few pictures of past friends and my family. I picked up an old photo.

"Quinn!" My friend screeches, "let's go down the slide!"

I run over to the slide and we both slide down with a whee.

As we go up the stairs to go again, this older kid grabs the back of my shirt and throws me on the ground. He said something like... um..., "Hey look, guys, it's wingless baby! He's so much of a crybaby, he forgot to grow wings he was crying so much!"

My friend started laughing along, and I curled into a little ball.

"Let's show this kid that there's no place for crybabies in this world," the older kid as he started beating me. All the other kids joined in. When I went in later that day, nobody asked me what happened, even though I was bloody and bruised. Nobody cared, not even my parents.

I sighed, "it's not important to dwell on the past..."