Maelstrom

I, Like every other human on the planet, am unlike any other human on the planet. It is what makes us strong, unfortunately it doesn't bring us tolerance.
Today I need to remind myself, and others, that different isn't bad.
Lucy walks beside me and takes my backpack as I walk away from my tormentors. We are being followed and evil words chatter behind us. We pause and she smiles a smile that is part comfort and part jealousy, I pull off my shirt and hand it to her, then I walk away from her too.
Although no one knows it, all my senses are tuned to the sky, or more accurately the air.
I let the muscles in my back relax, and throw my wings out to their fullest. Even unmoving my wings exert resistance to the breeze. I flex my wings back as I take a few running steps, with the third my chest  ripples and my wings sweep down, a light hop ensures that my wing tips clear the ground. A few more down-strokes and I clear the tree line. I spread the feathers of my tail and soar.
I circle and climb again. The air batters my skin, and whips my hair into a stinging tangle, it buffets my feathers and carries me as far as I wish to go. I shift the attitude of my feathers constantly to adjust for the changes in the air around me: Flying is not like swimming on the surface of a calm lake.  The air is capricious, the direction is always changing in subtle ways, I must feel the temperature, and pressure even the humidity can affect my flight.  Even the turbulence of my own wings can change the airflow.
The sky is a maelstrom, that of all of humanity, only I can ride.


Lucas Matson