Story cover for Flightless by Hells_Council
Flightless
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Ongoing, First published Feb 04
Mature
In a world where every individual is born with magnificent wings, Zakk entered life as an anomaly-wingless and facing a stark reality. Wings in this society symbolize power, privilege, and identity, defining class based on their size and strength. Those with sweeping wings soar into positions of authority, while those with smaller wings find themselves languishing in the lower ranks. The ability to fly grants people status and dominance; it is a gift that shapes destinies, attaching value to one's very existence.

But for Zakk, the absence of wings felt like a slow descent into darkness. Surrounded by people who danced gracefully through the air, he grappled with the painful awareness of his own invisibility. Whispers followed him; eyes moved away to avoid the stark reminder of his difference. In a society that thrived on the hierarchy dictated by wingpower, Zakk's plight was almost unbearable.

Yet beneath the weight of despair, a spark of rebellion flickered to life within him. Zakk began to question the very foundations of a world where one's worth was tied solely to their ability to ascend. What if true strength lay not in soaring high above the clouds, but in standing tall on the ground? With each passing day, he sought to unearth a new identity beyond the confines of his society's superficial expectations.

As he navigated a landscape marred by envy and ambition, Zakk discovered that living without wings did not equate to weakness; instead, it opened doors to resilience and courage. In this journey, he aimed to prove that true power stems from within and that even those bound by gravity can challenge the skies and create their own destiny. In this fight against oppression, Zakk learns that being flightless does not mean one cannot rise.
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{COMPLETED} "now that you've had your fun electrocuting me, would you care to hop in the backseat?" ---------------------------------------------------------- Freak DNA. That's what I like to call it. The fault to my genetic code. More often than not, it's a curse. The static running through my blood gave me a name. A cruel, daunting label of a measly bug. A roach. That's what I am to them, to the government. Roach; the nameless monster with electricity for a sense and lightening as a second nature. It ruined my life, the sparking currents playing tag in my mind, running around and bumping into everything, shaking me loose. The government, actually. They ruined my life. My curse just gave them a reason. You see, the normal population with ordinary DNA, they don't know about the people like me. The roaches of the world. We don't get that kind of recognition at the camps. There, we are only one thing in the military's eyes. We are weapons and we will act like it. Everyone else out there, bathing in the goodness they don't know they've got, they don't know about the roaches their stepping on. As long as their getting closer to the sky, they don't care what they stand on to reach it. They don't know about the sparkling dreamer that's killed 7 people before her 17th birthday. They don't about the ghost of a girl peaking around corners for her entire life because even home wasn't safe. They don't know about the fighter of steel and iron sucking on his bloody lip courtesy of the wars he battles in as nothing but a shadow. They don't know about the masked villain who would do anything to see the army they lead claim the throne They don't know about us. But they will, because we will rise. And when we arrive, we will arrive violently. ___________________________________________ Started: 10.06.15 Finished: 3.17.16