August 4th?, 2010
Really Late...
Taylor Hebert
While I am not a particularly light sleeper, neither am I a heavy sleeper by any definition of the word. Instead, I am a creature of Habit, one who goes to sleep at the same time each night, and wakes at the same time each morning. Thus, I'd like to say that the shift from sleeping to waking was as peaceful and easy and calm as it is every morning...
But if I did that, I'd be lying.
One a normal day I wake up about ten minutes before my alarm goes off, which gives me enough time to get up and out of bed before the alarm itself starts to go off. Waking up right now, however? That wasn't anything like that. That first thing that my brain managed to piece together was the fact that I was still exhausted. I felt like I had only managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, and that I shouldn't be waking yet.
The second thing that managed to dig through the smog coating my mind was a feeling of annoyance and confusion. Someone had turned on the lights. With a groan of frustration, I flop over, turning away from the brightness and covering my eyes with an arm... Even so, there was a part of me that knew it was already too late. Now that I was awake, there was no chance of me being able to get back to sleep for at least an hour.
That, however, just brought up the question of
who turned on the lights? Dad hasn't been one to come and wake up in nearly five years, not since I turned ten years old and started managing to get up all on my own. 'Like a big girl!' I had thought at the time.
Finally giving in, I push myself up into a sitting position and bring an arm up to rub at my eyes to clear the gunk from them before I crack one eye open to try and se-
The staff that I had left in the basement is floating there, right in front of my face. The whole of the heft of the staff is glowing with an internal golden light, one that leaks from the tip of the hook as the thing almost trills at me, spinning around its axis in what I can only feel is an overly excited manner.
It is only thanks to the year of learning how to hide my feelings from the girls who keep tormenting at school that I keep myself from screaming, even as I skitter backwards away from the sta-
A hand meets air instead of bed, and as my weight tips there is the briefest of moments where I manage to hang in the air much the exact way that bricks do.
Or, in other words...
I fall, hitting the ground with a solid thump that is only muted by the coating of carpeting across my bedroom floor. Again, the staff starts to float closer, even as I stumble up to my feet. Hands up high and open to show the thing that I don't have anything...
The staff seems to lift to one side for a moment before spinning back how it was, all the while trilling at me again. It sounds... curious, and maybe even a little worried. Combined with the way that it moved...
I feel crazy for even thinking it, but I swear that the staff is worried about me...
Then, once it's clear that I'm not hurt, the staff floats closer and up, bumping against my hand with a honest to go whine.
Like a puppy coming up to it's owner, wanting to play.
Everything about the way the staff moves around just screams more curiosity and excitement, not danger or anger.
Slowly, I start to extend an arm out, my hand open and flat. The staff trills excitedly, before twirling up and over and landing perfectly on my palm right where I had grabbed the staff before.
Now that the staff is in my hands, there are a couple more details that stand out to me. Much of the green tarnishing seems to have vanished. There is a point on the staff that glows brighter than all the rest, and the point slides up and down the staff, perfectly where my eyes are tracking.
From the way that the staff trills at me again, it's clear that the thing wants me to grab hold, and without thinking I do. There is a moment where I wonder if this was a bad idea, before my feet slowly lift up off the ground.
I'm... floating. There's a soft scrapping, and looking to the sound, I see my window glowing with a soft white light - lifting upwards as the window opens.
Wait. Is the staff doing that? How?
The staff spins again, this time pulling me with as it falls to it's side, and then before I even have time to realize what is happening, I'm through the window, lifting up, up, and away.
This whole things... being up high in the air, with nothing below me, nothing around me, and nothing to stop me from falling to my death but the staff that my hands are white knuckled around should be terrifying, and while I am a little scared, I'm not paralyzed with fear like I think I should be.
However, the impromptu flight quickly comes to a close, as the staff begins to slow, before stopping over the particularly flat roof of a dilapidated apartment complex. Down, down the staff takes me, even though for all the world around me appearing to move, I still don't feel like I'm falling. None the less, I land without making even the lightest of sounds on the rooftop.
The staff starts to pull forward a little, and for a moment I struggle, worried that the thing is going to leave me here, all alone atop this building. It's only as the staff trills at me again, this time comforting and I swear it feels like its asking me to trust it. I swear that my hands unclenching sounds like stones grinding against one another.
The staff pulls again, and I let go, allowing the staff to float forward for the briefest of moments before it freezes, a confused trill coming from it this time...
What was it expecting? For me to... what? Hold out my hand? Like... like when I was training with it in the basement. Or sort of like how it was back in the bedroom.
I put my faith and my trust in the staff once more, holding out a hand and grabbing hold when it comes into contact with my palm.
Much like I did in the basement, I start to twirl the staff around, over to one side, then the other, my motions in part like that of a monk from those old kung fu movies I used to watch, and in part like a cheerleader with a baton. Then I step forward, snapping the bottom of the staff up in a short, sharp, striking motion. Pulling back, I try and twirl again, but I'm still tired, and I can feel the staff start to slip out of my hand.
I can't rightly say what prompted the next action - a thought at the back of my mind, or simply a guess from seeing how the staff has acted before, but as the staff left my fingers, my other hand snaps up. I don't even need to see the staff to know that it is moving in accordance to my thoughts, my other hand grabbing hold and bringing the staff down in a heavy hammer blow.
Snapping around, I hear the heavy crunch of my feet across the shattered concrete of the rooftop as my eyes drift close, and I allow the motions to take center stage - lashing out against shadowy figures my mind conjurers. A strike here, a twirl there, a blow then a block.
The sweat is running down my face as I continue to push myself faster and faster - the staff might not feel like it weighs anything in my hands, but that doesn't mean that I'm not exerting myself.
It's not until I leap backwards, my free arm wiping the moisture away as I finally open my eyes to blink the salt out that I realize my feet are just passing the edge of the roof, leaving nothing but air below me for more than thirty feet. There is a rush of fear, before the staff trills at me, and I realize the most important thing. I may still be sliding backwards through the air, but I'm not dropping down.
I'm...
I'm flying!
Perhaps that shouldn't surprise me, not after the staff flew me to this rooftop, but this is... different, somehow. Here I am, over thirty feet up in the air, with nothing below me, nothing around me, and nothing to stop me from falling other than the staff that I have in my hands... That should be terrifying. I should be paralyzed with fear that I am going to fall.
I'm not afraid.
Instead, this is absolutely exhilarating. Maybe its due to the fact that I don't feel like I'm being pulled along by the staff, and I don't feel like I'm going to fall. Instead, I feel light, I feel weightless. I can't stop the giggle from slipping past my now grinning lips, even as the staff trills at me too, clearly just as excited as I am. Slowly, I look down at the ground below me, and still... I feel no fear.
Instead, I look up to the sky, and as I raise the staff upwards, I choose a point and then...
I don't know how best to explain this in words. I feel like
I am the one in control of my flight this time, despite the fact that it is still the staff doing all the work. I choose a point, just go there. Like, as the closest comparison, when you are sitting there on the couch, and you decide to stand up and walk to the kitchen, you don't have to think about making sure both of your feet are under you, then pushing up with your legs in order to life you off the couch. You don't think about lifting up one foot, and swinging the leg forward in order to put the leg and the foot down in front of you, then jostling forward to move your torso, and repeating the motion again with the other leg.
No, you just stand up, and you start walking. It's the exact same here. I didn't even really
decide to fly up to the spot I chose. I just did. Doing as was as instinctive and natural as breathing. Hell, even the more complicated maneuvers I decided to try were more like jogging in comparison to walking. I did a barrel roll here, and a flip there, and I just... I just do it, without even thinking about all the complex parts that these things have to like... I dunno, do?
Is this what flying is like for Alexandria? For Dragon in her suits, or for any of the other numerous capes who have the power of flight?
I'd always wanted to be a hero like Alexandria when I was a kid. Sure, Armsmaster might be my favorite local hero, but I always dreamed of having the power to fly, of having super human strength and the power to be completely invincible.
Though, I guess I don't really have powers... do I? No, it's just the staff...
It's with that rather depressing thought that I turn about in the air, slowly starting to head back home.
However, I barely move a few feet before the staff slows to a stop, trilling at me - somehow sounding both supportive, and yet chiding at the same time. Then, before I can respond, the jerks forward, dragging me behind it as it shoots off, diving through the sky.
