on oirgins of scars, and flying on disposable wings

 when i was five years old, i flew. my mother piled half the family into her tiny car, and we drove off to feel the rain on our windows. michelle, my cousin, got the passenger seat because it was her birthday. alec, my brother, was just a year, and he got strapped into his second-hand car seat in the back. Michelle's mother, Deborah also rode in back; buckled in where she could enjoy the way the alcohol cast lights that only she could see. I was there too, but not so buckled. in the backseat waiting for the moment we stopped so i could splash in the puddles that were collecting in the gutters. and we were interrupted, by the car of a single man driving 60 on slick streets. and then i flew. i flew like a dove, barely pausing to shatter the windshield with my child's face. i flew so fast the glass couldn't move fast enough, and it got caught on my lips and across my face and in my hair like pieces of solid sky. it was a short flight; only a matter of seconds after skimming the dented hood before i touched down on the glistening asphalt. but i was the only one to fly. michelle and mother may have tried, by they died before their wings could twist their bodies from the metal's kiss. deborah tried too, but the seatbelt pulled her back into herself where she must have slept with disappointment. and alec tried so hard to soar, he bit off the tip of his tongue and shook his brain trying to fix it. so we may have been a flock of angels, but i was the only one to fly. michelle and mother lost their last chance to fly, maybe they touched the sky after all, but so quietly that no one saw. it's alright though, deborah and alec have their whole lives to keep trying.

Author's Note

yes, i have horrible grammar!

Reviews

[bob, small b. aka invs]

the grammar isn't that bad and the writing over all is really wonderful. storytelling in a very imaginative way. some of your phrases and images are really beautiful and show a lot of talent. i hope you continue writing.