In my dream, people mill at a fair, trying things they’ve never before done. There’s horseback riding on flashy steeds and archery with brightly fletched arrows.
At the fair’s farthermost edge, wings rest upon the green. Their colors €”kite colors €”catch at me. I cross the field whispering, I’ve always wanted to try this! An attendant helps me strap into the hang-glider. I snap helmet and goggles in place and cast myself to the wind.
Well, it turns out I’m a natural. Within me wakes the Aufklarung of flight, of orientation with the horizon and fearlessness in the face of movement ungrounded. I spin course by stars I cannot see and trust in winds I do not control. Over the green I soar, in accord with a finely drawn yet constantly changing map in my blood. I both follow and make the map as I go. Continue reading “from “Flying in a confined space” by P. G. Karamesines”
Elizabeth is a 12-year-old girl who loves to write. Her favorite genre is fantasy. She loves riding around on her scooter, and this is one of the ways she gets her inspiration.
I sit at my computer desk with a blank document in front of me. I gaze out the window at the never-ending rain. I yearn for the sunlight that time forgot.
I have no ideas for stories. My mind wanders on other subjects that connect with the real world I live in every day.
Wait! There still is a small bit of hope. A hope that is so small, I never see it. I must search diligently for it. I must ease out of the fears, out of the worries, out of the fast and the slow lane. I must stop.
I picture myself in a grassy field. The sun shines warm on my face, I hear a bird singing, and the whole field is filled with a tingling sensation that I long for.
I somehow have a desire to run. But I am growing up, I think to myself. I have no time for such childish little games.
However, my legs are moving.
Go ahead, a voice inside my head says, go ahead and let yourself fly. Set me free.
My fingers now dance over to the keyboard. I type, slowly at first, but soon I am going faster and faster on the keyboard.
I begin to fast-walk in the field. Soon I am jogging. Then I start going at a full-out run. My heart skips, and my fingers pause…
Suddenly, I leap into the air and fly. Fly like I mean it! I fly, and nothing else matters to me.
My fingers are now dancing, flying with the story. Flying with my heart, and my soul…
Finally, I land ever so gracefully and softly. I walk for a little, and then find myself at my computer again.
I look out the window to see the sun peeking over a cloud, and the thunderheads moving away.
This is my chance! This is the opportunity I have been waiting for! I leap up and throw on some shoes, running outside and into the fresh air.