Jody could fly, but she wasn’t a superhero. She just flew for the sake of it. When life overwhelmed her she took to the sky, her skin dewy in the clouds, and floated, and meditated like they did in the cartoons. The sky was her sacred place. Quiet. Cool in the night. She felt the wind wash over her as she swooped and felt the way waves feel at the beach. Refreshed and calm.
Eventually she refused to come down. Why spend time in the chaos and the grime when she could ascend to wide open spaces? But when people began seeing her up there, they demanded she come down and save them. From criminals, from politicians, from monsters imagined. She didn’t look down and whisper “No.” She didn’t acknowledge them. They were wriggling mole men far beneath her. She was the sky queen. She was the angel of peace. They were the things crawling in the dirt.
But their cries for help grew louder and they sent drones and planes and fireworks after her to get her to pay attention, so she floated higher, far away from the fools below, until she could barely breathe, and her nose dribbled red. She was so cold. But she was free. But she was cold. And tired. And below her buzzed the flying insects, buzzing, buzzing, and she was tired from the cold and the lack of oxygen and the buzzing.
When she lost consciousness, she joined the insects once again. Quickly, and suddenly, and finally.
Day 311’s three random writing prompt categories were, “Sacred,” “Human flight,” and, “For the sake of it.”
Ever read Superman: Secret Identity? It’s really good.