Amy scaled the big top as the
cheers became ever more ruckus beneath her. She could hear the ohhs and ahhs
that accompanied the trapeze act. They must have been at the extreme extends of
the stacks. She knew she could never sit amongst the crowd to watch the daring
spectacle, but from the shadowy heights of the center rings main column she
could see without being seen. Jack didn’t mind so much if she watched the
shows, but it drove Imperial crazy when she wasn’t playing the part of oddity
with the pseudo freaks. The vents that helped to circulate the stale tent air
allowed her access into the big top’s summit. Her long clawed digits clung to
the rigging as she dangled watching the flight of her acrobatic co-workers.
Susan flipped through the air a
mere twenty feet beneath her, and Amy clutched to the center column to avoid
being seen. She could see John swinging back and forth trying to maintain his
momentum as a relay catcher. Byron was stepping up to the edge of the platform.
They had already reached the part of the show without a net. Amy’s breath
caught in her throat as he took hold of the bar. She could feel the tension in
his body and smell the fear on his skin. He hadn’t had enough practice yet. He
was too young. If he didn’t have full faith that he could do it he would fall,
and he faltered even now. She braced herself for what was coming without
knowing what she could possibly do. She could see it all so clearly in her
mind. It was as though he were already falling through the air.
Byron rolled back on his heels
and pushed off the edge of the platform. For an instant he seemed to hang in
the air suspended like a particle of dust lit up by the sun. Then the harsh
reality of gravity’s pull reestablished itself and he began to descend until
the bar pulled tight. There was the sickening snap of the wires as they
suddenly came under tension. He was being pulled along the terrifying arch.
Forward he swung, until gravity again too hold and pulled him back. He forced
the arch ever higher. Back and forth, back and forth, higher and higher he
went. But still his doubt remained. She could smell it. She could see it in his
posture. Every flexing of his muscles told of his inexperience and fear.
Amy leaned forward and her grip
on the rigging loosened. Byron sailed through his final arch. His hands slipped
free of the bar and his form clenched as he knew he had released too soon.
Amy’s wings spread slowly as her toes loosed their hold and she began to tumble
freely through the air. As the tents slop widened so too did the thin membrane.
Bryon’s hands reached out uselessly to his partner who could not reach him. The
horror in his eyes was only matched by the fear in Byron’s. As their fingers
brushed tantalizingly close the young flyer began to drop. The stunned silence
of that had overtaken the crowd began to intermingle with shrieks of terror as
the realization the young boy’s plummet became apparent.
Still Amy fell trying as hard as
she could to reach him, yet he never seemed to get closer. Even as she passed
by John, still reaching for the boy, she could not catch him. She drew close
the wings and began to shoot forward. The wind rushed deafeningly passed her
ears. It was the most incredible thing she had ever felt, it was more natural
then breathing. She inclined her head and the distance between her and Byron
dissolved. With a whip of her toes she had hold of his shoulders. The wings
snapped open and the ground that once was driving towards them slowed to the
merest crawl and with a single great flap they held still entirely. She
continued her flapping lifting them slightly and then drifting them slowly
towards the ground.
Byron touched down on the ground
and with a single flap more Amy joined him. She pulled high on her hunches
stretching her wings wide. It felt good, having the wind in the folds of her
wings. She reveled in the memory of the feeling cherishing every touch of
sensation. On the edge of her euphoria she realized what had just transpired.
She swung around to see Bryon bent over hands on knees catching his breath.
“Are you alright?” she asked her
one claw hovering over his shoulder.
“I would have made it!” he said
swatting the digit away.
She pulled in her winged arms. The
clowns ran in trying to distract and assess, making Amy acutely aware of the
publicity of her endeavor. The crowd roared with approval, but all she could
feel was the eyes and the sharp sting of Byron’s rebuke. All the flurry of
color and motion started blending together to form a sickening collage of
suffering and pain. She couldn’t take it anymore. She ran the best she could.
Under the bleachers and through the maze of bars and feet she slipped under the
side flap and into the trailer city. Everything seemed turned around and her
head kept spinning. The world had turned upside down. Her wings had use,
suddenly she had moved from the realm of human oddity to something entirely
new. What was she?
She bounced into the Jack’s
trailer she kept hitting things. It was like she could hardly see. She tried to
make it to her closet, but it was too difficult to find. Her knees hit against
something rigid and she toppled like redwood onto the soft expanse of bed. Her
vision fading completely as her face made contact with the silky sheets.
