Compendium | Short Stories and More

wings for a day | contest entry

If I had wings, I might escape for a day, if I could only work up the courage to do it.

A day, of course, isn't nearly long enough to do all of the things that I would do if I could fly. I've wanted to see the world, wanted to travel from place to place and witness the sun setting from a height I could only ever imagine, but a day isn't nearly long enough to accomplish those things. It hardly even delves into the practicalities of it. Wings sound nice on paper, but how wide would they have to be to lift my heavy frame? Would they get in the way, or even fit through doors? Would flying be tiresome, like running? How fast would I be able to fly? If it were linked to my own athleticism I imagine I wouldn't be the best at flying. And that hardly even covers the facts of navigation and whether or not I could successfully fly over an ocean without losing steam and plummeting into the frothy depths, never to be seen or heard from again.

With wings for only one day— a short enough time to neglect those small inconveniences— I would simply fly away. Away from all of the stress and the constant fighting in my home, and away from my terrible job and the frustrating customers and my mean and inconsiderate boss. I'd flee from my thoughts of death and my fear of failure and go somewhere high. High enough that I could perhaps catch a glimpse of my father. Someplace where no one could bother me and no one would find me, and I'd stay there and simply breathe. I'd stay away just long enough that they just might start to miss me before I return the next morning, smiling as I apologize for my absence and saying something vague about needing to get some fresh air for a while. Whether it would be worth the panic I might cause or not, I can't say.

But daydreams, of course, are impractical, and to think about such unlikely things is to waste my time. I return, muscles filled with tension, to the world that I know, my feet ever firmly planted on the ground.