Born Without Wings - A Short Story

This is an old short story I wrote nearly a decade ago that won first place in a short story writing competition. I've since edited and modified it a little in a way I know 'younger me' would have appreciated from someone with more writing experience.

 Born Without Wings

For so long, my mind was drawn to a single goal - a sole purpose: survival. I was never a fighter. From birth, it was never in my nature to fight. Instead, my nature was to run - to hide.

Run I did - across the dirt and mud I called home before I had a real home. All I had was the earth.

Wherever I went, food was plentiful - if one knew where to look. However, there were also others like myself. Others who wanted - no, needed - to eat as I.

Every day was a battle of who ate and who starved. It was never a matter of claim, only ever who could take the most at once.

And every night, fed or starved, I would lie down and look up at the stars. I would stare at the distant lights and think of the future, which was still uncertain. Sometimes, I think of where I should go next or if I would have more to eat tomorrow.

But some nights, I would dream of flying.

I know not where the thought came from, but the longer it lingered, the more I found it exhilarating.

I had seen others, birds and insects alike, taking to flight, and in that state of flight, no earth-bound creature could stop them. They were unshackled from the ground.

The only thing that limited those with flight was their own will.

However, fate would see that I was given only legs - and flight would only ever be a figment of my mind.

Not long after the first dream manifested itself all those nights ago did they become more frequent, haunting me with fantasies of soaring through the clouds. It seemed deeply seeded in me, like the sky was calling to me. Soon, the dreams became all I could think of, filling my mind no matter where I was, or what I was doing.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to do the only thing I could think of; venture up a hill. It was one of my favourite places to go when I needed to think, for it was so high up.

I travelled from dawn till dusk, as the journey to the top of the hill was a long and vigorous one. By the time I had reached the top, I was starving and desperately tore into a wild-berry bush. I quickly ate until I was full before I began to stare at the sky again.

This time, though, I reached my arms to the sky.

I continued to reach towards it long after the sun had disappeared over the horizon. I stretched as far as I could, not knowing why.

Would I grab onto a star?

Would it take me away from the dirt to somewhere far away?

Would the night suck me in, never to see daylight or feel the kiss of the sun again?

I hoped for a miracle, but none came. It had been a long time since I felt this hopeless, lying on the ground after reaching for the night sky for hours. Growing tired as time continued to pass, I decided to climb a nearby tree and fell asleep within seconds.

I slept without a dream, untormented that night by unreachable goals.

The dream was gone.

The next morning came, bringing with it the news that life would go on, even if my dreams had faded. It felt different - as if a burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I thought that it was because of the weight of an unreachable goal being forever rid from my mind.

I needed to find a new purpose. I needed something that would compel me to live on; to go through the day knowing that I would have the strength to see tomorrow.

It came with a start when my stomach growled, telling me that it was time to find breakfast. Taking my first steps, I came to the sudden realisation that my body was now wrapped in a multi-coloured cloak. It felt soft, and light, but what was most shocking was that as I ran my fingers over the cloak, I could feel it. It was a part of me, and like a muscle, almost instinctively, the cloak began to unravel, stretching outwards more than twice the size of my body. It was then that it all made sense to me.

They were wings, beautiful wings that grew from my back, grew from me. They felt stronger than my legs have ever had, but most of all, they felt like mine. Like my struggles had not been in vain and that I could finally join those who could take to the skies or walk amongst the dirt as they pleased. I could finally join those with no restraints, those whose only limits were their will.

I was right; the burden of my dream had been lifted from my shoulders and had become a reality. Now, it was time for me to find a new dream. But first, I want to see how far my wings can carry me.

See how far my Soul will carry me.