The adventure: A risky leap proves that, with the right friend, the sky’s the limit.
The time: May 1984
The place(s): Rookhope
Prompt: sabotage #vss365 (view original tweet)
Tric was stretching rainbows over dirty dishes with rough fingers when the fat woodpigeon #sabotaged her daydreams.
He a friend of yours? Says Dad, eyeing the funny bird bobbing over the hedge.
No, she says. Stupid boy. Thinks a suit can make him fly!
Got heart says Dad.
thorn #vss365
He’s there every day, sighs Tric. Leaping off that wall, peeping at me over the hedge before he falls, flapping those ridiculous wings, spoiling my daydreams.
He sounds like a #thorn, says Dad, looking up from reading the paper.
He is, she says.
Then look for his flower.
frame #vss365
He spies her through the #frame of the window, catching the sun in rainbow suds.
He flaps his arms frantically, trying to hover above the hedge, trying to catch her attention. Look at me!
Gravity grabs him with its heavy hand. He lands heavy, among a crowd of boys.
inhibit #vss365
It’s that new boy, dressed as some weird bird thing! Laughs one of the gang.
What’s your name kid? Says the tallest of them.
Eliot, he mumbles.
Are you trying to fly?
Eliot nods.
I think your feathers are ruffled. Maybe you’re a little #inhibited by us. Try a higher wall.
keyhole #vss365
Tric tore at the toast, eyes dark like a shark’s eating prey.
That boy has stopped flapping, says Dad.
Good!
He’s a thorn, huh?
Yep!
I spy through the #keyhole, says Dad, a pack of wolves about to feast on him.
Her plate falls to the floor as she scrambles for the door.
collect #vss365
You’ll need this, says Dad.
Tric #collects the iron bar from his grip. Her dark pupils shrink into sharp focus in hard amber eyes, as talons grow from her fingertips, scraping along the metal bar.
Can you control it, he says.
She nods.
Then go get your pigeon.
robe #vss365
What sort of bird are you? Says the tallest, his piercing blue eyes send shivers through the short, fat boy.
A woodpigeon, can’t you tell? Says Eliot.
These #robes are a woodpigeon? Why not something with a more bite, say a falcon or hawk?
second #vss365
Eliot paused for a #second. No, I’m definitely a woodpigeon. I just know it.
Well Eliot, we’re all eager to see you fly. We believe in you.
You do?
Sure, don’t we lads! The boys agreed, slapping Eliot on his back.
You see that ridge up there?
Chesa Peake? Gulped Eliot.
poet #vss365
Eliot felt very small among all the boys gathered around him. He felt even smaller when he looked up at Chesa Peake, towering over the town. It was half a day’s march to the Peake’s clifftop. The haunt of #poets they called it, and now it haunted his mind, too.
victim #vss365
The boys lifted Eliot above their heads and carried him toward the long path up to Chesa Peake. Arms spread wide, he lay above them facing the sky like a dead woodpigeon, a sacrifice, a #victim.
This is terribly nice of you, said Eliot. I was dreading walking up there.
verify #vss365
You sure he can fly, Le Thal? Says one of the boys, a big bruiser. Seems too heavy!
Sure he can, Munk, says Le Thal, the tall leader of the pack. Can’t you pigeon?
I can #verify that, captain, says Eliot, saluting with his wing. Only a bird can be so chirpy about flying.
voice #vss365
Tric waits on the path, half way up to Chesa Peake. The pack of boys come marching up toward her, carrying the pigeon on their shoulders, laughing and singing
Put the boy down! She demands
Hey! I know that #voice! Cries Eliot, sitting up. It’s her. It’s the girl!
vase #vss365
Tric looks at pigeon, his terrible homemade suit almost makes her laugh, with his fat face peaking out from the felt beak. He’s no bird, she thinks, he’s a flower. A beautiful one too. But he’s in the wrong #vase. Her eyes narrow, talons tighten.
“Put him down!” She warns.
vicious #vss365
Hi, cries the pigeon. It’s me! Eliot, your new neighbour! You probably don’t recognise me in my suit, do you?
Isn’t he great, laughs Le Thal. Apparently, he flies! And we’re all going to watch.
Tric gives Le Thal a #vicious look.
That’s nasty, whispers Eliot to the boys.
vacant #vss365
Tric walks beside the pigeon, the pack of boys following in V formation, like a squadron of jets.
I’m a woodpigeon, says Eliot, in case you couldn’t tell. They make a lot of noise when they take off, so you might need to cover your ears.
Tric stares at him, #vacant eyes.
verdict #vss365
We’re nearly there, says Eliot, pointing to the sharp cliff drop of Chesa Peake.
What makes you think you can fly, says Tric.
I came to that #verdict, says the boy, when I saw you in your garden, and out of the sky swooped a woodpigeon. It landed on your arm & you fed it.
violence #vss365
Tric still didn’t understand why the pigeon thought he could fly, and when she saw the pack of boys cheering him on & the smile he gave her before leaping from the lip of Chesa Peake, she felt feathers, talons, beak & wings erupt from her skin with a terrifying #violence.
veteran #vss365
Eliot leaps & plunges, spreads his winged arms, closes his eyes, whispers: I can fly. I can fly!
A small doubt, then he feels weightless, levels out, glides over town. I can fly! he cries, my 1st time but like I’m a #veteran.
He doesn’t feel the talons hooked in his belt.
vivid #vss365
Eliot captures every moment of his first flight in #vivid delight. He sees Mrs Buxton walking home from the shop with her morning paper and a pint of milk, leaves her confused, calling out as he swoops by. He clears the town and lands with a tumbling splash in the river.
vomit #vss365
Did you see it? howls Munk. A silver eagle! As big as a bus, plucked that pigeon right out of the sky.
Le Thal bends over, hands on knees, #vomits, wipes his mouth, bares his fangs. Filthy bird stole our fun, he barks. Empty your stomachs boys, we’re going hunting.
viking #vss365
Eliot sits in the shallows of the river, spluttering water.
I flew! He cries.
We need to run!
Hey! He says. It’s the girl! Did you see me? How did you get here so quick?
Name’s Tric! Tell you later. We need to run. See that. It’s a #viking moon.
Howls fill the sky.
Run.
vortex #vss365
I don’t think… I was built.. for running, puffs Eliot. I feel out of… b… b… balance. If only… you could fly, Tric, we’d be… out of here in the… spin of a #vortex.
Concentrate on running & breathing, says Tric, as the viking moon blinks in the wide blue sky.
vixen #vss365
The wolf pack tears through the trees with growling speed, lips peeled back, fangs bared, the scent of prey filling their throats, and when they startle a young female fox, the #vixen is carelessly plucked from their path and flung, torn and lifeless, into the undergrowth.
villain #vss365
I can hear.. those #villains… breathing down my neck! Says Eliot, stopping and turning to face the savage wolf pack. I… I can’t run anymore. Have you ever seen a woodpigeon fight, he says, taking up a feathered kung fu stance. We are deadly!
Le Thal leaps, fangs wide.
void #vss365
Eliot feels himself pulled back, & the wolf’s teeth clang painfully on an iron bar. He watches, as if from afar, some girl, all feathers and talons, ripping into the snarling pack, slashing open rivers of blood. Then the #void takes him into its deep, deep, dark embrace.