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Flying

I looked out of my bedroom window, gazing out upon the rolling hills and valleys, the sparkling streams and deep green copses, the birds wheeling and twittering in the crisp autumn air, the sheep lolling about beneath me, grazing on the lush grass dreamingly. I smiled to myself, enjoying the bright, hot sunlight filtering through my window, causing dots of lights to dance around on the floor behind me, glittering and shining like jewels. My green, intelligent eyes flashed with pleasure. Smiling widely, I pushed open my window a bit more, sticking my head out. New Zealand. My new home. I breathed in the fresh air, filling my lungs. This was it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I pushed myself up, swinging one leg up and resting my foot on the smooth wood, and pushing up hard on the other, until I was balancing precariously on the window-ledge. My back was bent and my head ducked as to not hit the top of the window, and it was very uncomfortable. My legs wobbling, I looked down – and almost fell to my death. Mistake. The ground looked so far away, such a long way down. It was terrifying. “What a time to get vertigo,” I muttered to myself. And second thoughts. The idea seemed ludicrous to me now; I must have been absolutely raving mad to think I could actually do it, actually fly. Fly? Pah!

I swallowed, casting my gaze elsewhere, anywhere except the ground that would so surely have me splattered all over it in just seconds. Just believe, just believe, Kathleen. You’ve done it before and you can do it again. What difference does it make that you’re jumping out of your bedroom window or the swings in the park? A small voice in the back of my mind finished the sentence: everything. I quickly stifled that voice. Gathering all my remaining shreds of courage, I took a deep breath… and jumped.

The air rushed through my ears, whipping my hair around my face, surely making it more frizzy than usual. Should have tied it back, I chided myself. Still, too late now.

The ground was getting closer and closer and nothing seemed to be happening. I panicked, stretching my arms out and pulling up frantically with my chest, trying to right myself. Trying to fly.

Nothing happened. My hair filled my vision and I lifted an arm to pull it out of my eyes. Mistake. Immediately, I was tumbling about in the air. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was silently screaming. I was terrified. I was going to die, I was going to di-

And then I was flying. Flying! So much seemed to have happened in those 10 seconds of falling, falling, falling to my apparent death… Except I wasn’t dead. I was alive, so alive!

I was shooting upwards, gaining height. My eyes were streaming and the blood pounding in my head. This was fantastic, brilliant, euphoric. I felt like I could do anything – and I probably could. I could fly, for Pete’s sake! Fly! I was really, really, flying. It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t. It so wasn’t. The cool breeze caressing my face, the roar of the wind in my ears and the curious mix of feelings filling my heart was proof of that. No dream could feel like this.

I stopped and hovered, gazing about me. The sky was like an ocean; a warm, blue, tropical ocean. My ocean. I owned this sky. I looked down, and laughed out loud. The birds had stopped wheeling and the sheep stopped grazing. They were all looking up at me, confusion lining their faces. One sheep literally had its mouth open, half-eaten grass floating back down to the floor. This was brilliant!