The Flight

Where the clouds roam and the winds gust there is a peak. It isn’t the highest or even all that beautiful. Just a barren peak that juts into the clouds. Often, I pass over the peak or just by it. Each time I look at the smooth rocks interspersed with jagged ones that sit on the rocky face. They never move and are always in the same place. Being a rock must be boring I think each time I pass by the peak. Stuck in the same spot for years, the same side facing the sun while the other consistently sits in darkness.

While passing the peak one day I started to feel heavy. The winds didn’t pick me up and my body went limp. Slowly the peak came closer as I could no longer keep myself up. My feet hit the barren stone that I had only seen but never touched. It was smoother than I thought it would be and not quite as cold as it looked. I stretched my arms and legs. Attempting to shake off some of the weight that had dragged me down. The sluggish feeling didn’t subside.

I leaned against an outcropping of rocks. Each stone pressed into a different part of my back. Some felt good and others made my head throb. It wasn’t long until I fell asleep. I was woken by a figure standing in the sunlight that kept me warm. I opened my eyes and looked up at the figure. It was entirely shadowed by the sun as it stared at me.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

The figure didn’t answer but continued to stare at me.

“You’re standing in my sunlight. Would you be so kind and move?” I asked as politely as I could.

The figure once again said nothing and didn’t move. I sighed in frustration and moved to the far side of the rocks so I could be in the warmth of the sun. The figure followed me and again stood in my sunshine. I moved back to my original position and the figure followed again.

“Will you please leave me alone?” I asked angrily.

“I need your attention,” the figure finally said.

“I can see that, but I am resting for the moment so go somewhere else,” I said firmly as I closed my eyes.

The figure cocked its head quizzically. “Why are you resting?”

“Because I’m tired,” I said.

“I thought your kind didn’t get tired.”

I opened my eyes and looked at the figure. “Of course we get tired. Who do you think I am?”

“An immortal,” the figure said with a shrug.

I laughed. “An immortal? Where would you get an idea like that?”

“You came from the sky. Only immortals come from the sky,” the figure said.

“You must not look up at the sky very often. Many things are in the sky. I only pass by here and go elsewhere. Today though I became tired and landed,” I said as I tried once more to close my eyes.

“My kind does not travel the skies whereas you do. That makes you an immortal,” the figure said stubbornly.

I sighed. “Look, you and I are the same. For some reason, you think you are stuck here on this peak when you can travel just as I do.”

The figure shook its head. “If I leave this peak I will die.”

“No, you won’t. You should try it sometime. Perhaps it will help with that stubborn head of yours,” I said.

The figure kneeled and examined my legs. “We are not the same. My limbs don’t look like yours.”

I leaned forward. The figure was hard to fully make out with the shadows masking it. The sun never seemed to fully touch the figure. As if it was in a perpetual shadow and yet cast its own shadow as well.

“I can’t fully make you out, but you seem to move fairly well. Why do you think you cannot leave this peak?” I asked.

The figure looked at me like I had just asked an absurd question.

“Because I cannot fly.”

“Did no one ever teach you?” I asked.

“It is not something I can be taught. I simply cannot fly,” it said.

“And you won’t with that mindset. Come, I’ll show you how it’s done,” I said as I stood.

My body felt even heavier than it had before. I stretched my back and shook my shoulders to loosen them. I strolled over to the nearest edge of the peak. I glanced behind me where the figure stood nearby watching quizzically.

“No need to be afraid. Come over here and we can do it together,” I said as I gestured for it to join me.

The figure stepped closer but glanced warily at the cliff.

“This is foolish. I can’t fly,” It said.

“Sure you can. Everyone can fly,” I said as I stretched the rest of my body.

The figure shook its head vehemently. “Only immortals can fly.”

“If you haven’t died yet how can you know you’re not immortal?” I asked.

“Because all of my kind die. I’ll die too and even sooner if I try and fly,” the figure said.

I glanced around at the small barren peak.

“So you choose to stay marooned on this peak because you refuse to think you can fly?” I asked.

“What else is there other than this peak?” the figure asked.

I scoffed and peered out at the distance. The clouds floated by. Some far above us and a few below us. We were too far up to see the ground and too low to truly see the sky. The scenery was beautiful, but the true beauty was the flight itself. The winds were never the same. Each journey was different, and each flight was new. Some days the winds would carry me delicately and on others, I felt like I was a storm itself.

“There is nothing and everything beyond this peak,” I said wistfully as the soft glow from the horizon touched my face.

“If there is nothing why should I want to leave and if there is everything how would I ever manage to find my way?” the figure asked.

I turned around and glanced at the strange figure. The shadows had lessened a little the closer it came to the cliff. It was different than me. It was bigger and moved oddly. Its voice was familiar to me, though I could not place from where. It sounded like an echo; one I had heard before.

“If you stay here how will you ever know what you’re missing or fully appreciate what you have here without leaving it?” I asked.

“You are saying I should die so I might taste immortality?” the figure asked.

“I’m saying you won’t die. I jump off cliffs all the time and I am still alive,” I said.

“Because you are immortal.”

I sighed in exasperation. “And so are you.”

The figure shook its head once more. “I see you pass by every night. Sometimes you dip closer and on nights like tonight you land. When you do, you rest on the rocks before you leave again. I watch you each time. This time you woke and saw me. I wonder why.”

I gestured at the sun. “It is not night. It’s clearly daylight out and I’ve never stopped on this peak before.”

The figure glanced at the sun. “It is night and that is the moon. I sleep each night but a part of me is always awake and watches the night pass, including you.”

“You have everything backward and I think I’ll leave you to it,” I said as I faced the cliff.

“After you leave here will you remember me when you pass by this peak?” the figure asked.

“I don’t think I’ll forget you anytime soon my odd friend,” I said.

The figure nodded, seemingly happy with that.

“I’ll remember you in my dreams as I do most nights. My beautiful owl that comes each night.”

I glanced at the figure quizzically.

“An owl? What do you mean an owl?”

“You are an owl. A white owl with a face like the moon and eyes as dark as the night. When you fly the wind gasps under your wings and your call is the scream of the night that both terrifies me and makes me feel alive,” the figure said.

I stared at the figure in confusion. “My dear strange friend I have never heard of an owl nor am I one.”

“Of course you are. I may be asleep, but I know an owl when I see one,” the figure said stubbornly.

I chuckled and planted my feet at the edge of the cliff and let the tips dangle into freedom. I faced the quickly moving clouds as the breeze caressed my face before glancing at the figure.

“I am a soul,” I said as I fell backward off the cliff.

I let myself fall until the wind blew strongly against my back. I pushed upward and soared above the peak. The figure gazed up at me. The shadows around its face were disappearing and it was becoming clearer. The breeze caught me and let me drift slowly while I looked at the figure one last time. It waved at me and its face lost the last of its shadows. I gasped as the face was revealed to be my own and the figure stood and moved just like me. It returned to a clouded portion of the peak and disappeared. I hovered in bewilderment as the heaviness that always plagued me near this cliff lessened and I drifted higher.

I glanced at the sun and imagined it was the moon. My ears filled with a frightful shriek and a white-winged creature circled above me. I was afraid of it, yet I longed for its presence. The sun shined on me and my image of the moon faded. I glanced at the peak. A part of me lived there and it dared not leave. A part that was asleep and lived not like me but some shadowy life. A life that was not free. From that moment on I visited every evening and enlightened that version of me of all it could be.