Wingless

• Maddy Ellicott, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2016

Wings, flight, the feeling of air rushing around you. Things that the doctor told me were impossible for me, having my wings never fully develop when I was a babe. But I can fix that! I’ve been working on the design for months, and building and destroying several test models. But this time, they’ll work, this time, when I hook them onto what little wings I have, they’ll work. They have to. If they work then fairies like me can fly, and we’ll all be equal.
It’s painful hooking them up, scars from past fails dotting my body are just proof that one day, the wingless will fly. And if they work, the design will have to change a bit, the whole ‘poking holes through our wings’ thing will have to go. I flap my wings, like how Ma told me to, and hover above the ground for a bit before landing. They help, but are too heavy to fly with, but that’s where the next bit comes in.
The magical metal of the fake extensions melts to cover my wings and forms a small thruster between them. And with that, I fly. For the first time in my life, I can zip around the room and touch the roof. Without a ladder. That’s when it all goes wrong. A small bam and a large pouf erupt from my metallic wings burning all flesh on my back. Falling, something that I had done so many times. Huh, who knew that it would be the death of me? Hitting the ground hurts, but dying doesn’t. If anything, it’s a relief, because now...
I can fly.