The Boy Who Couldn't Fly

Written by D.W.PATRICK, Edited by EHIKIOYA EMMANUEL EIGBEFOH.

Dedication

This short story is dedicated to those who think they have lost their dreams. In all Honesty you haven't.

The Boy Who Couldn't Fly.

I brought my chin up from the table, only to be disturbed by the aching darkness that lingered in my heart. My head was hot and my stomach filled with toxins. I had lost hope for my dreams.

Is this reality? I thought. Had my dreams been crushed by this demon? For as long as I've known, I wanted to rule the skies. I desired to be among the birds in the air and kiss the beauty that is the clouds. My sight was always fixated on soaring as high as I could, feeling the refreshing breeze the Chinook winds brought at the end of winter time.

              It was 3:53 pm, exactly 42 minutes after I heard the news. The ones who bore me cast a blockade, a mental fence to prevent me from going astray. Alas, all it had done was strip away my helmet of happiness, ripped my shield of pride and stolen my sword of optimism, leaving me defenseless against the negativity my new world had birthed. How was I meant to move without any vision? At that moment, I asked myself if I was even alive or just living.

              My body was fire, my legs turned into noodles as that familiar chill went down my spine. I thought I had no more purpose. I clenched my fist. To the far left corner of the room was the kitchen where a knife laid almost childlike. I had long wondered why people took their lives. I always naively thought they didn't deserve life, but here I was contemplating what mine was worth. I held it in my right hand and impulsively drove it into my left.

              I winced. It hurt but no blood. Was I a coward just like The Boss said? I didn't want to hurt myself, so I made a decision. I will let this pain fuel me. I will let it fill my empty heart.

              I looked outside and saw the leaves falling off the trees. I then realized there was no hope for me.