Flying without wings
The trees grieve for their former beauty. A beauty which captured life in the veins of each leaf. Shades of green and orange use to paint a landscape of dreams. Rolling hills kissed the edge of riverbeds, where water resembled liquid crystal. Lush fields of grass cushioned the feet of many travelers and the air used to taste so sweet.
Now grass turns to dust and trees bow in sorrow with a lack of colour. The water is tainted by man and air burns the lungs of the fair folk. They watched their world be defiled by creatures who were said to have been descendants of the Fae. They did not, however, possess any of the gifts, but they did create their own. They developed roads which smothered the earth, and built towering buildings that cost the lives of many forests. Their pollutants tainted the air and water that were meant to be shared.
They destroyed everything.
Max’s fingertips teased the surface of the lake as he hovered above. He averted his eyes from the reflection of himself, he could not bare to see his own sadness. A shock of turquoise burst from the water’s surface an arm’s reach away, splashing the fairy child. Max tumbled backwards in the air as he struggled to keep his wings fluttering while wet.
“Sorry ‘bout that Max. Did I get you?”
“Only a little bit.” Max answered quietly.
The water sprite laughed joyfully at the boy, his shy expression amusing her more than his surprise did. Pulling her long hair over her shoulder, the girl began to plait the soaking tresses. Max watched curiously as she floated on her back in the water and still maintained the ability to braid.
“Nice morning I’d say, could do with a little sunlight though.” said the girl conversationally.
Max nodded in agreement.
“Aren’t very talkative today?”
Max let out a sigh and shrugged. “I’m just not in the mood to talk right now.” he said.
“Go on, you know you can tell me. I won’t go telling any of your tree hugging friends, I promise.” she assured him.
A sense of loneliness swept over him, carried by the morning breeze. Pink hues and gold melted together against the sky. He vowed never to sleep again because no morning, in any other place, would ever be the same as the ones he had grown so fond of waking to.
“Father says we’re leaving,” he whispered. “but I’m not ready to leave, Pearl. I don’t want to.”
“That’s quite the conundrum you’ve found yourself in,” she admitted. “When do you over-sized butterflies take lift off?”
