A 100-word story*


He dreamed of flying.

The wind whispered, chilling his wings as he skimmed the seacrests. The air shimmered, twisting his vision as he soared among thermals. The sky itself called him, even more clearly than the calls of his companions under sun and stars.

The dream changed. Now he was a weightless invisible observer, looking down on all humanity. Unsupported, he drifted over city and country, farm and factory, giving identical scrutiny to public displays and private moments. He felt intensely alive.

“Sir?” the copilot nudged him awake. “We’re coming in to land. Would you like me to take over?”

*as defined here. I intend to do one of these each day throughout December, if nothing gets in my way. If you’d care to join me, please use the tag 100wordstory.