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Who would you be if you couldn’t be you? Anya asked herself as soared through the clouds. It wasn’t something a person with wings usually asked themselves, but she had been thinking some tough philosophical questions lately, in between flying through waterfalls and chasing eagles.
Her long blonde hair rippled in the wind as she dived deep into a ravine. She was always on the edges of society careful that no one would see her. Or at least, that no one would see her flying. She usually kept her wings hidden under huge heavy capes or ponchos. He mother had always pressed on her that she needed to keep her special ability hidden. She was petrified that Anya would be taken away.
But since she had died Anya had been lost, searching for someone else she could trust with her secret, feeling further and further away from humanity. She gracefully brought her body down to land in a hidden hillside, far from her town, and walked over to the rock where she usually hid her outer clothes. With a sigh she tucked her large feathered wings behind her, as much as she could, and shrugged over her thick brown poncho.
It was strange. He was my Dad, but it didn't look like him. He asked me where we were going. I didn't know. We just drove. I looked out of the passenger window at what looked like an industrial estate. We drove in, and through a barrier towards a car park. The winding ramp up towards the top floor left my head feeling giddy. Dad asked me if he looked different. I told him he did, but I didn't mind. He parked the car at the edge of the car park. The sunset glowed pink and orange, like a fruit salad sweet. We have to go. Dad started the car. This was confusing, we had only just arrived in the car park, I was about ready to get out of the car to see the sunset without the barrier of the window, but instead the car was put into reverse and off we went, back down the ramp. What's going on, I asked. You just needed to see that, he pointed to the sunset. The view's better up there, and I needed you to see it. Sometimes it's important to see things. We were up there for such a small amount of time thought. It doesn't matter, it's not the amount of time you spend somewhere doing something, it's the fact that you now have another memory to draw on, another sight to behold, another image for you mind to think about. Remember it. We often take for granted the little things. Never forget the little things. They shape us.
|Taken just after we got off the plane - the relief!|