Night Flight

The only time he could manage to make it to the ledge was during the late hours of the night, sneaking between the shadows that stretched out across the ground - trying to stay out of the glow of the moon hanging drunkenly above. It surprised him how comfortable he felt in the dark. His eyes had always adjusted quickly - pupils dilating, soaking in as much light as possible. As he ran forward, the ground seemed to glide below him. He couldn't feel the dirt underneath his sandals, but he could hear it grinding against his soles. He was moving too fast. Lost amongst the abyss of the night.

When he was growing up, the older boys would always wander down to the edge after school or in the hot haze of afternoon weekends. It wasn't just for fun or refreshment, it was a right of passage. Other boys their age all had done it and were welcomed into the group. The few who didn't, were cast out, heckled, made fun of. Everyone did it. So he had to. Thats just how things were.

It was only a couple weeks until he was the same age. But because he was smaller, younger looking, one of the last remaining boys, he took the brunt of the ridicule. They teased him at school, in town, whenever they could. Saying he was scared to jump. He'd be one of those who wouldn't do it - never fit in. They had told him stories. Boys in the past who had jumped in, landed wrong and never came back to the surface. He heard of deep swelling currents that if he wasn't careful, would sweep him away. Certain spots were deeper than others. If he didn't jump out far enough, he'd land on a rock that was hiding just below the water - breaking him as he broke the surface.

All of these scared him. But not as much as simply jumping in front of his peers.

He knew he didn't need their acceptance. It was just a stupid routine they put everyone through - their own form of hazing. But he wasn't doing it for them. It wasn't like his leap would change how he was seen amongst them. He didn't even want to be part of their group. This was going to show them. His own was of standing up and facing them. Proving himself.

As he stood on the edge looking down, he could barely see the water. Only tiny reflections of the moon played off the surface as if someone had thrown a handful of glitter down below. During the day, the height seemed daunting. Now, it seemed like he'd be in the air forever. Like a cruel joke. Falling and never reaching the bottom. It was now or never though. Backing away from the edge, he took off his shirt and sandals, tucking them away between some rocks. Before him, the stars lit the perfect runway for him to follow to his flight.

Taking a deep breath, his legs began carrying him forward.

As he launched himself into the air, he swore for a second he was flying - just floating there, as high as the moon. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Their taunting, the water that waited below. He felt free, ready for the water to envelope him.

He hadn't even landed and he wanted to do it again.

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