The official magazine of the Team of Dreams
We want new and experienced authors to become more comfortable in their own skins as writers. To this end, it is our mission to offer activities, education, and connection that further the success of the m...
We stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out across the ocean. A constant breeze blew over us, carrying with it the tang of salt and the cries of seabirds.
"Dreamed of what?" I asked my partner.
"Of stepping off the edge and feeling the wind take me."
I laughed. "Only without the sudden stop at the end."
"Yeah," my partner said, suddenly thoughtful. We both looked over the edge of the cliff, past the turf and clumps and grass, down the sheer drop to the bay below. White breakers, their roar a distant whisper, threw themselves against the rocks that ringed the bay. "About that."
I had to do something to recover the situation. "No time," I said, grabbing my partner by the arm. "We have to make sure everything is right for our flight."
Our wings were behind us: two giant assemblages of cloth and spars. Up here, on top of the cliff, they looked fragile and ungainly. For a long time we had been afraid to trust ourselves to them - afraid a rib might snap or fabric might tear. Then our wings would not be able to catch the air, and we would plummet back to earth. But we had summoned our courage and allowed the wings to prove themselves. In the air, our wings would snap and crack and creak, but they had always held.
So far.
We were all too aware of the limits of our wings. Eventually something in them would be strained beyond its limits, to bend or rip. So, we checked our wings before each flight - checked them obsessively.
"All good," I said to my partner.
"All good," my partner echoed.
We looked at each other. "Shall we?" I asked.
Together, we strapped ourselves into our harnesses. Our wings were no longer ponderous contraptions. Instead, they were now part of ourselves. I could feel my wings pulling at me, urging me to take flight and soar away. "Not yet," I told myself.
"What did you say?" my partner shouted at me.
"Ready when you are!" I called back.
We ran towards the cliff edge. We needed forward momentum to hurl ourselves free of treacherous vortices and unforgiving rock. By the time we were halfway to the edge of the cliff, we couldn't have stopped in time. We kept running.
The turf vanished, to be replaced by the void and churning blue-white of the sea below. With a snap and a crack, the wind caught us.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
