Flying Freaks

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.