Wings

The open window lets in a sea breeze and tendrils of cloud. I take deep breaths and try to steady my nerves. Dad tightens the last strap. The leather bands dig into my arms. The feathers tickle my back. The still-wet pitch rolls down my skin to mix with sweat.

Dad tells me again that the wings will hold. They will carry us to freedom. This time, I almost believe him.

He steps onto the sill. He tells me to follow him. Not too high, not too low. I nod, but I don’t quite listen. I’m still trying to keep air in my lungs.

He kisses my head, claps my shoulder, and leaps into open air. I rush to the window. Far below, wings snap open and my dad is flying.

I climb the sill with unsteady legs. The ocean churns below. The headwind is strong. I take one more breath of stale air, the only air I’ve ever truly known.

And I leap into the sky.

I fall fast. The tower blurs past. I scream in spite of myself. When the air has left my lungs, my arms are thrown wide and the wind takes me into its embrace.

I’m flying. Flying.

I laugh in spite of myself. I take my first breath of free air. It tastes different outside the tower. I pull my wings and climb higher. Below, Dad’s voice cries a warning. But I don’t listen. I keep climbing.

The sun’s light coalesces into the form of a golden chariot pulled by burning stallions. The helmsman regards at me with the hard glare of a desert sun. The pitch begins to melt.

Feathers spiral away from me, but I barely notice. I meet the charioteer’s eyes. I pull my wings. More feathers fall away. I convince myself I don’t need them. I only need to reach the chariot.

Dad calls to me again. I hear his pleas, but I pay them no mind. True freedom is almost within reach.

I pull the wings once more. A cloud of feathers leaps into the air. For just one moment, I’m without wings. I’m flying all on my own.

And then the chariot falls away above me. The clouds rush past. I tumble through the salt air. Dad dives hard. His hand extends. I grab for it. The sweat and pitch and sea air make our hands slip.

I watch my father spiral away, silhoutetted by the sun. I hit the water with a crack. As the sea consumes me, I thank all the gods that my last breath is one of true freedom.