Short Stories Folder

Sitting On the Edge

Parker sat on the roof dangling his legs over the edge. His hair was a tangle brown mess and his eyes a pale blue. His clothes were greys and browns from working in the factory every day and his little freckled face was dusty.
Parker was a daydreamer, and where he lived he was the only one around. His head always in a far off lands and eyes wandering, hungry for adventure.
Sometimes he would like to sit on the roof watching the clouds go by, thinking what a wonderful life he could have if he wasn't stuck in this city.
His family of three and and friends at school always wondered about poor Parker. For he was never listening and never where he should be. But for an eleven year old boy he was extremely intelligent. Being misunderstood by the world, the young boy believed it was a curse. He wanted to be free and not restricted like a caged animal.
On days such as this, blue sky, puffy white clouds, and a salty smell in the air from the ocean, it was perfect to sit on his roof and think to himself.
This city was strangely built on the side of a cliff and metal chains lead to poor housing everywhere. Parker even caught a floating tram to school each morning but the thrill of drifting through the sky in a machine still wasn't enough for him.
He thought about what it would be like to fly without the support of something man made that you wouldn't have to sit in. When people say, 'that's how birds feel when they're flying', he disagrees.
His point was that no human knew how to fly like a bird, for they didn't have the bone structure to carry wings.
He always dreamed about being free. To feel the wind on your face and lifting you up from beneath.
Wings. He thought. Only if I had wings.
Parker thought about this for a long while. His friends thought he was crazy sitting up on that roof everyday. They always told him to get his head out of the clouds, but as he usually did, he ignored them and went on staring at the birds flying past.
He wanted freedom, and being on this cliff side was getting too restricting. He wanted to be out there, soaring through the skies and flying over the ocean. His life was going nowhere and working in the factory now was more than likely going to be the job he had until he dies. This society was unforgiving and would leave even the tiniest scars on the the body, or even mind. Leaving here wasn't an option, it was a necessity.
One day he had enough. He had always wanted to fly, but he never got the opportunity unless he took it. He stood at the roofs edge and breathed in, arms spread, head back, welcoming the wind in his face and hair.
He jumped, and flew.