If I Could Fly

Eleven.

The little boy was walking around in the snow. It was almost his eleventh birthday, he hoped there would be a surprise party. Of course there wouldn't be any of his friends. The boys at school did not like him, called him a know-it-all, made fun of him because he had a sense in fashion. And he did not like them, either. They were plain boring, childish and stupid. One of them asked their teacher how gravity worked today. How could someone life eleven years without figuring out how gravity works? And the girls were even worse. They crowded him and wanted him to play with them. Annoying. No, he wasn't into girls. He liked women. His mother would laugh when he says that, but it was true. He also liked machines. Trains and forklifts and especially hot air balloons. However, his parents might invite some of their friends to celebrate. They always did that, and he liked it.
He arrived at the beach, he barely noticed. There was snow everywhere, floes covered the water. He only realized when he almost walked right into the sea. He looked up at the sky. It was full moon, that was perfect. No one was outside at full moon, they were scared of bloodbenders. He wasn't. He believed that they were simply a story that's supposed to scare young children. „If you don't eat up, we'll send you outside at full moon", his dad used to say. He had known it would not happen.
He opened his backpack, taking out two little devices. He put the bigger one on the ground, and took of his gloves. He connected the smaller device to the bigger one with a cable, the longest one he had found. He took the smaller thing is his hands and pushed a button. A red light started blinking. He pushed some other buttons, but nothing happened. He sighed, disconnected the devices, and tried again. And again. And again. Until, finally, after hours of rearrangeing parts, the bigger device left the floor, soaring at least 10 ft in the air. The boy laughed. It actually worked! He knew it would work, eventually. He held the small device in his hands, using it's buttons and switches to controll where the bigger one flew. Even after his device crashed into the sea, he was grinning. It had worked! His brain immediately made new plans. How could he keep it up longer? Controll it better, maybe even without a cable! Would he, someday, achieve his dream to invent a flying machine that could make people fly? What a weird dream for a Water Tribe boy, his dad always said. But it wasn't. He was sure he could do it. Others called him a dreamer, but he knew he would revolutionate the world. He already perfected boats and ships! If he would ever find someone who actually listened to him, helped him make his plans reality, he would own the seas before turning eighteen. And he would own the airs, one day. He knew that.
Walking back home, he realized the sun was already rising. „Happy Birthday!", he said to himself, still being pleased with himself. He hurried up, knowing that his dad would not be pleased if he found out that he had been gone the whole night. He jogged through the whole city and walked the last mile, out of breath. He sneaked in the stables, climed up to the hayloft and entered his room through the window in the roof. He had barely fallen asleep when he was woken up by loud noises. That was weird. Was it the sound of Satomobiles? Outside the city? They were rare even in the city! Was it some special birthday surprise? Would they let him drive with one?
He got up, put on a suit- it was a speacial day!- and put his shoulder long har in a bun. He looked at himself in the mirror. Yeah, that was how a birthday boy should look like. Actually, that was how every man should look like, always. The world just wasn't ready. He went downstairs, opened the kitchen door, and frowned. Who were those people? Some of them were wearing pajamas, others some kind of uniform. Was it the police? He had never actually seen a police men, they stayed in the city, he was on the farm. „Dad?" the boy asked. His father was sitting on a chair and looked up at him, crying. His father's expression was shocked, and anger started flashing in his eyes. What had he done wrong?
His father started screaming at him. He tried to apologize. He said that he knew he wasn't allowed to be outside at night. He was sorry. He did not understand why his dad was so angry. He was being yelled at, his dad said terrible things, about how he was weird, useless, a disappointment. He started crying. „I don't understand! Where is mom!?" He asked, not being able to get a picture of the situation. He had always known his dad was not too fond of him being eccentric and inventive, but he thought he loved him anyway. Didn't he?
„She went looking for you!" his father yelled, „She is gone!" His father raised his fist, and everything went black. He saw pictures of his mom, breaking through the ice. He heard her scream, his name, even though he knew people couldn't scream while water filled their lungs. He was so sorry. He killed his own mother. He knew it. His dad knew it. He ran away, constantly hearing his mother scream, even over the loudest music, over the people in the circus, over he engines of his machines. He saw her in every water tribe woman, in every mother with a child, even in the clouds. He knew she would never blame him. He knew she would want him to move on. But he did not. He lost his mother trying to invent. Now, he could not stop. He paid such a big price.
And he did not stop. Eighteen years later, Iknik Blackstone Varrick was the greatest inventor of all times.