Taken Wings

I've realized that I was a strange child. My imagination was amazing, able to transport me to any place I could picture in my mind. I was even able to make myself believe some crazy things.

I believed at one time that I was a mermaid.

I believed at one time that I was a princess.

I believed at one time that I had powers.

Now, most of the beliefs of my past have been erased due to the process of aging, as is normal for the passing of growth. But, the idea of my wings stood well against reality. Yes, wings.

I remember my wings well, they were beautiful when I was younger. They weren't that large, only big enough to stretch almost as long as my arm span, but I liked them like that. They were cute like that. The feathers were fluffy looking near the top, and became longer as your eye reached the tip. I remember I got scared to go outside in the winter because I thought my wings disappeared while I was playing. Turns out that they were just camouflaged by the similar hue of the snow.

As time went by, my wings grew as I did. I entered elementary school, and would try to beat my wings hard enough to lift myself onto the school bus, but would fail. They weren't strong enough to do something like that yet. Every once in a while, I'd ask a friend if she had wings, and she'd shrug. How one can be unsure of their wings confused me, and still does.

That Halloween, I was a princess, and walked around with my Mama to get treats from the neighbors. When we got to the home of the older lady in our neighborhood, I was the one that rang the door bell for my sister and I. As she opened the door, her eyes widen in shock, but quickly returned to normal, well, almost. She seemed warmed, and her smile was much more realistic. She leaned and gave some candy to my sister, before she looked at me. She looked over my shoulder, and laughed.

"They are a sight, those wings," she said in a hushed tone, only loud enough for me to hear. I remember being surprised. No one had once before seemed able to see my wings except for a few of my friends. For this woman to see them made joy well up inside of me, and I smiled. My belief in my wings had been sealed.

They were real.

As Elementary school continued, my wings expanded. By the time I was a 5th grader, they had doubled in size, able to wrap around me easily. Though, the wings of my friends seemed to suddenly disappear left and right. When I'd ask, they would look at me as if I was insane, before stating that such things weren't real. 

That was the first time in my life I felt appalled. For someone to deny the existence of such beautiful extensions of us, made me almost angered. 

But, little did I know that was the beginning of an awful existence I encountered after I graduated elementary school. When first entering the giant halls of the middle school that was now my own, the wings on my back were full and lush, white and beautiful, untouched and innocent. Within weeks of my starting though, chaos took over. Life as I knew it shattered as those I knew disappeared one by one, leaving only myself and one of my two best friends standing. Her wings at one point were much more outstanding than my own, yet, in the weeks that passed of the strain, each time she passed they looked . . . weaker, dimmer. 

And before I knew what happened, she was also swallowed by the darkness. I for one, was not taken by it, as if it didn't want me, or even, felt disgusted by me. It wasn't 'til recently that I was able to figure out what exactly the reason was, but at the time, I was too confused to even make sense of it. Everyone I had trusted had gone, and with them, so had their wings. That was just as scary to me, losing the wings that had carried me since I was young was something I couldn't allow to happen. So, in my misery, I stood alone in the storm, allowing no one to see the tears trailing down my cheeks by shielding myself with my warm wings.

The darkness raged for two years, until a strange calm I had never known came upon me. Walking around the halls that had continuously haunted me, now stood silent. Without my realization, I found two new girls had stepped into the vortex as well, but these girls were different . . . they were kind. They held a hand to me, and for the first time since I could remember, someone smiled at me. And finally, I was able to smile back as I took their hands, filled with a warmth I loved.

They became my friends.

Months passed, and life had become happy. I had people begin to surround me that made my days full of laughter. I felt the presence of peace sent by the world that I had prayed for for a very long time. This peace though caused time to speed up, and my agenda filled to a level I hadn't experienced before. My distraction lead to forgetfulness, but even so, I was content.

It wasn't until three years passed that I finally remembered my wings.

The same old woman from so long ago passed me on the streets, now almost crippled. Our paths had stayed distant since our last meeting, and now, I find it amazing that she was able to recognize me. But, our reuniting was not the same happy moment of years before. This time, she gawked at me in a shock for a mere instant, before she hung her head. I asked what was the matter, and she answered by simply lifting her head, and speaking in a familiar hushed tone, "Has the world taken yours as well?"

My body became rigid as her words registered in my mind. The memory of that Halloween came back to me, and in an instant, my perception shattered. I turned my head, and found nothing there.

My wings were gone.

Without even noticing, the beauty I adored for so many years vanished. It was at that moment I began to replay time. What had been the breaking point? When did I lose sight of them? . . .

When did I become lost in that storm?

Then, the same woman answered the question, as if she read my thoughts.

"They go as the soul is taken in by the world. Purity and innocence are fragile things, swept away as youth dissolves."

She walked away soon after that, and I didn't see her again. I heard only a few months after that she passed away. Her departure to me was damnation, as I would never have the chance to ask again about how she was the only one who saw my wings.

Until one night, I had a dream. In it, the old woman met me in a white world, and as she turned to take me somewhere, she became younger, and more beautiful. She lead me to a door, or, what I thought was a door, and told me to touch it with my hand. When I did, I would be able to see what remained of my wings in the reflection of the door. I followed instruction, and cautiously, I placed my hand on the cool panel.

The reflection fell, and I was appalled. The wings I once knew had withered into grotesque skeletons of what I remember. Feathers were sparse, some of the bone sticking out through the skin. What feathers that remained were dark as night, and rough, as if they had been dipped in heavy tar. I cried out in horror, and pulled my hand away from the door, but the image remained. Tears began to well up in my eyes, my self-loathing growing.

At that moment, the woman stepped forward, and on her back spread great wings, far larger and far more beautiful than mine had ever been. I gawked in admiration, the sight one I can barely word. She smiled, and took my hand, somehow causing the image of my dead wings to vanish. With a warm tone, she asked if I would want mine back, and in tears, I pleaded for them to be returned to what I had known them to be.

Then I woke up.

I was still in tears over the dream, but brushed it off as just that; a dream.

A girl my age, almost an adult, would never be allowed the chance to regain her wings of her innocent youth. They were destroyed when reality took itself to me, so I cannot return to that time when they graced my back.

Yet . . . strangely enough, when I walked outside, a little girl passed, and said to her mama as I continued on, "Mama! Mama, did you see? That girl had little angel wings!

Just like me."