Have you ever seen a dead person? I know I didn’t, if you can believe a guy like me. In any case, my vision is so far more advanced these days that I fear I’ll see a dead person from hundreds of meters away.

Today too my adorably adorable little sister comes in early to wake me up, only to find me awake, looking like a crispy toast.

“Who the hell are you?!” she asks, utterly shocked by the grotesque sight of a cooked man—that would be me.

“I need to shower…” I say and yawn. It’s been all night by now, fully awake after the incident. If you are wondering when it all happened, and I got beaten up, it was right after last chapter ended.

“…Hmm? Oh, it’s you Eli. I thought I accidentally let dad out of the cage.”

“Don’t make that kind of jokes—people will take it serious.”

“Why are you like this all of a sudden?”

“I need to shower,” I repeat.

“Is that how you skip questions?”

No. But I won’t even say it aloud. I need to fucking shower right now. I go out of the room, push my sister out of the way and enter the bathroom. She continues to speak from behind the door.

“Did you get into an oven or something? What happened?”

After hard scrubs, vicious brushing, my body returns to its original color—to looking normal. Indeed it felt like being put into an oven, or rather, being spun on a frying pan like bacon. Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be a lasting damage.

“Hey Nini, I forgot my clothes in the room. Can you give them?”

“No!”

“How can I leave then?!”

“Not before you tell me what happened!” she says, forceful.

What’s gotten into her? Is she into additional lore in videogames too?

“Fine,” I say. “Hypothetically, let’s assume I can fly on the air with the sexiest white wings—”

“That’s racist.”

“No it’s not! Don’t cut me off! Anyways, let’s assume that I have six packs and an incredibly hot face too—”

“What does it have to do with anything?!” She sounds angry.

Oops. I digressed.

“Anyways, figuratively…” Wait, wasn’t it hypothetically? “Think of me as flying on the air like a teenage who gained superpowers. And assume that while flying and enjoying the city, making acrobatic hot movements, my six-pac—”

“Can you get to the point?”

“Right. Yesterday was pretty cloudy, remember? And if you were awake, you should’ve heard the lightning despite there not being a rain or a stormy weather.”

“Yeah… What about it? Did it hit you?”

“Not at all—I’m faster than sound!” That’s of course a lie.

“So is lightning,” points out my sister. Once again, oops.

“I dodged it many times but, something weird happened,” I got to the point finally. “Lightning began following me. However far I fled off to, strikes tailed me.”

“Oh yeah, that’s why it sounded like a machine gun from here,” she says.

“Is that even possible? To be followed by a natural phenomona that happens to be very arbitrary…”

“No, it’s not. Are you going to tell me what actually happened now?”

If only she knew… That’d be horrible.

“I poured alcohol over my face and lit a cigaratte.”

“Wow—that’s lit!”

Are you a dad? What the hell is that pun!

Anyways, my sister gives me clothes, I wear them, eat, and go outside. Talking with that stupid brat helped me put my thoughts in accord. That really happened.

I was enjoying the view, the surge, the wind. All of that followed by strikes, one after another, trying to hit me like a sniper made up of clouds. I managed to dodge a number of them before one struck me right before landing on an apartment complex. Surprising part is that, a lightning rod was right beside me, and yet, somehow—it didn’t attract the electricity…

I wonder how I managed to survive, and have no scratches or anything. Maybe my body, just like my senses, dull and harden with day-end.

It saved my life.

After that, I retreated my wings and the attack halted. Walking home in that shape, even going back to get my backpack and stuff from few kilometers away, had me lusting for a gasper.

As “my friend” goes on and on in the bus right now, my mind is filled with these. I feel lethargic—in essence, there has to be a point, and there has to be an answer. But, somehow, even after surviving death, I find myself uninterested.

A good night sleep would’ve been much more preferable to finding an answer. I took a pack from my bag and take out the lighter as well, before becoming aware that I’m in the school bus—and he is gaping at me.

Tucking all of them right where they belong doesn’t change the fact that he saw. Hell, I’m just sleepy! Leave me be…

“Are you smo—” Right when he’s about to ask and make all the class know, a hand covers his mouth, which is not mine.

“We didn’t see anything, right, Lenny?” asks this new guy. Oh, so “my friend’s” name is Lenny. Good to know, if I don’t forget it again. But who is this guy? Protecting me all of a sudden.

Standing beside to shut Leeny up is someone seemingly my age, my height. He’s wearing a blue coat, matching his blue eyes, contrasting with his flaming orange hair.

“Thanks,” I utter, and he smiles. Without saying anything goes back to his chair after.

“Who is he?” I ask “Lenny.” I am indeed curious.

“Are you dumb? He transfered yesterday to our class.”

“I skipped classes dumbass. Anyways, you say transfered, in the first week… Isn’t that strange?”

“It’s not. Teacher already explained it’s due to his father’s job.”

“Shouldn’t it take longer though—to make the arrangements?”

“Ask google, not me.”

Neat. I’m not that curious actually, it’s better he’s here than not. Looks like a nice guy if anything.

At school, it’s even harder to concentrate today. Not because of thoughts circulating in my head, but the opposite. Not even a sliver of neurotransmission is occuring, because the fatigue of yesterday, and lack of sleep.

The lesson is, surprise surprise, chemy. Yes for the fourth time in the same week—who the hell prepares these programs?

All four lessons peppered into four days…

“I don’t wanna get up again…” I mutter.

“I see, you don’t wanna be embarrassed in front of the whole classroom,” says the person behind me. But, as a fact, his voice is not Leny’s. Wait—

“Since when have you been here?” I ask him. He is the blue coated one from the bus.

“Oh, I asked Lenny to change places for once.”

“Why?”

“Shh, listen,” he says, coming closer. “My name is Leon by the way, nice to meet you. Now listen. Do you see the question on the board? She’s about to ask it to you.”

He whispers so silently, I hardly hear what he says next. One after another equations line up in his voice, into my head. That’s when Ms Banana calls me, yet again, to the table, to make me solve the question.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I write the formula as if I knew all that since preschool. Numbers and explanations. When I’m done, class is watching with an astounded expression. Ms Banana speaks:

“What a surprise Eli. That’s not an easy problem. Far from it—one of the hardests in fact. Did you study beforehand?”

But before her question registers into my head, just as dumbfounded as everybody else, I look at the guy sitting beside me in class. His name is Leon. He is wearing a blue coat, matching his blue eyes. A fiery orange hair at his head. Smiling to me innocously.

I nod at teacher.

“That’s wonderful,” she says before letting me sit.

“How did you do it?” I ask him.

“The question? I knew it already—they asked us in the previous class,” he says.

“No, not that.”

But what—what am I trying to ask him here? Something very unnatural, almost impossible occured. But—what was it…

Leon smiles knowingly.

I’ll give a promise for this chapter too. I’ll figure out what that thing is, before the chapter ends.

After getting my breakfast meal at the caffeteria (yes, I eat both at home and here the same meal of the day, but I’m fit, so who cares) Shun sits in front of me. If you forgot, he’s the class president.

“How did you do it?” he asks.

“Do what—oh, you mean the question. I just happened to know it…”

“Liar, you cheated haven’t you? Explain to me right now if you understand any of that.”

And I explain. As if I knew it all along.

But I didn’t.

“…” Shun looks dead beat at that. Pale, almost horrified. “How is that even possible?” he asks.

“Why not?”

“All the problems you did wrong in the previous classes can be solved if you can do this question.”

“…”

At that, I’m left with nothing to say or counter. Indeed I cheated… though there is something unnatural about that cheat.

And I can’t understand why that guy named Leon is suddenly interested in helping me.

“Anyways,” Shun says. “If you keep studying, I will not bother you again.” With that he goes to another table with his tray as full as before, unlike mine.

I go to the gate. For some reason though, I feel not as decisive on skipping the class today. No, I know the reason very well—just because I got some praises. “Positive reinforcement,” if you will. Is this my nature? To be so vulnerable to any appraisal. Of course it is. After all, I have no walls. No way to ward myself off truly.

So I turn back to see Leon waiting for me.

“So you won’t escape today,” he says.

“Yes,” I answer.

Though it does irk me that he knows what I did.

“Don’t be this unpredictable, you are making my job harder.”

“And what’s that job?” I ask. His words intrigue me. As if it’s a confession.

“Oh, it’s simple really. It’s no different than a plumbers, but mine is with electric, and any disturbance in it, I resolve.”

“I see,” I say, no longer caring about this mumbo-jumbo. My sleepiness is getting the better of me.

First he looks strangely taken aback by my answer and then he smiles and laughs and says, “Sorry man, I went a little to ahead there with the foreshadowing. Forget what I said. You seem like an interesting guy and I wanna be friends with you, that’s all.”

“So, that’s your ‘job.’”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

I guess I’ll indeed escape again, instead of staying. He totally killed my buzz. When I turn back to the fences, he calls.

“Can I come with you?”

“Suit yourself.”

And even if I say no, I get the impression that he’ll follow one way or another anyway. That’s the kind of guy he must be—someone who follows. But no doubt he isn’t a liar. I think, even if his words contradict, he’s constantly telling the truth. At least that’s my deduction, not that it’s too important.

“You are a really relaxed guy,” Leon says with a smile.

“Not really.” I’m really not. Though that must be the impression I’m giving, always.

“Can you teach me how to be as relaxed as you?” he asks.

“I’m not relaxed. But if you want to be like me, it’s not that hard. You need to just survive death.”

“Survive death?”

I nod and say nothing further.

While I still use the skateboard to go city, I’m not any faster because of the additional luggage.

“That’s rude.” He chuckles.

Once we arrive there is no question where we’ll go. Bowling. Not that I’m an excellent player but it seems to be the perfect game for the occasion.

“You good at this?” I ask.

“No, I never played it before. But you can teach me, right?” he asks eagerly.

“Oh. Rules are simple. Aim for the spaces at sides. Any question?”

Leon chuckles. “Liar.”

“You do know the game then. That’s less work for me.”

In fact, he knows it radiantly, overwhelmingly well—who’s the liar? Every ball he rolled turned out to be a perfect fling. His moderate smile though stayed geniune instead of growing any cockier in the game. Eventually our scores turned so incomparable that I now find myself unable to do anything but buy him a menu. A cheap one of course.

“Thanks!” Leon says. Indulging in the food not modestly.

I only get myself a caffeinated smoothie. I find eating makes my mind a lot lazier, even when I need it the most.

While eating he asks me a rather curious question.

“Will you fly again?”

I nod.

“That’s bad. You’re a good guy.”

Remember how I solved the question perfectly, as if knowing it ahead. The strange part was that it shouldn’t have been this way—I shouldn’t have had an explanation that is so well engrained and internalized by me. As if he, Leon, uploaded it into my head.

“I can always help you get good grades, I can solve all your problems one by one, if only you accept living like everyone else. Isn’t that for the best?” he says.

My problems solved—there’d be no reason for me to keep flying, right?

Wasn’t it only a form of escape?

Of course not.

And there are problems you can never solve.

Because flying for me isn’t only an escape.

It’s the only way I can still—

“I see,” he says. “I hope you won’t hate me after this.”

I nod.

And he leaves, leaving behind half the food I bought for him as well. And I leave too, with a cigaratte in my mouth, puffing the clouds in my head, walking towards that building from yesterday.

People are so full of themselves.

They always think they know the right thing for everyone—while they themselves aren’t fully happy with their choices. I think I don’t have an opinion on anybody else’s choices. I used to—but not anymore. Not ever since.

“What is a liar’s greatest tool?” she asked me once, that girl who wrecked my life upside down. We used to meet here.

“Words,” I answered.

“Correct,” she said. “There is no lie without words. And all words, in essence, are lies.”

And now, although she can’t hear me, I ask her this:

“What if someone desperately wants to convey the truth? What can he do but use words?”

I can hear what she would’ve said. “He’d fail.”

I walk up the stairs with these in mind, as always all my thoughts dissolve the moment I reach the top. From this high up world feels like a painting, or a visual illusion. Or upside down. As if there is a sky, sprinkled with blinking stars, underneath.

Today too clouds are in hurry to cover the sky just like yesterday. Will he try to kill me?

I’m sure you already know this too, and I did from the very beginning—that guy named Leon, he seems to be one in the control of the lightning. I don’t know his reason to target me, but it doesn’t seem like a personal thing. More or less, whether his name is Leon or not, I believe he’s more the altruist type. Very much unlike me. Is me having wings that much of a trouble for him? I don’t know. Maybe I really am doing something terrible. Not that anybody warned me.

I jump and a pair of wings widen from my back, holding the surge of wind and rising with it. Now, let me tell you about yesterday. To give you a glimpse of what it feels like to fly.

Imagine you yourself having wings, and a danger being non-existent for the purpose of the story. Wouldn’t it have been great if you were able to simply go to anywhere you like flying on your own will, while others painfully use bus or cars. Your speed is exceedingly superior to both, your body even somewhat more powerful thanks to it. Isn’t that a fantasy come true? I’m not seeking for superiority, but being separate and having your own thing must be a dream for so many.

It was for me too—at the very beginning at least. There are many reasons I don’t feel as strongly about its aspects like that. One of them being—I have to hide, and I can only use it at nighttime. Who knows what would happen if people happen to see a giant birdlike man on the sky—albeit not having been noticed so far is weirdly suspicious. And my powers only activate at night, not like a switch being turned on but a constant transition that extends over all day.

So its convenience is not effectively prominent. But trust me when I say, flying is flying and that’s more than enough.

Joggers jog, swimmers swim, bikers ride their bikes—it’s similar in spirit. Once you are able to do it, it’s normalized. But there is a continuous attraction that it builds in you over time, that you’ll feel suffocated without doing it at least once every day. I’m sure not everyone will agree with me, but it’s about loving what you do—not learning to love it. That’s when it’s precious.

And I love flying.

That’s when I don’t have to think.

That’s when I can be myself.

And most importantly, that’s when I can fly.

Yesterday after rising into air, before being tailed by bursts of neon, it was perfect.

Flying to those who did not experience it may seem more like a concept rather than an actual feeling. Yes, feeling—similar to walking, it’s less of a concious action but a reflexive one.

For example, imagine yourself being swung wildly on a swing—and now erase the swing but let the motion stay. Do you see how exhilirating it’d feel? Imagine surfing on huge waves, but with no board but your bare feet.

The equipment is deleted the but the action stays. In other words, your limbs become the force behind it all—it becomes reflexive, unfeeling.

And when I released myself off the grips of surface to fall down, it felt like leaving my shackles. When I rose, it was as natural as breathing. And as free as breathing.

The scene under me actually felt similar to that surfing metaphor. I was riding the world with bare feet. Rising and falling, steadily up and down with movements of my wing. I felt exposed from all sides, ready to fall but not falling.

And soon I began to spin voluntarily. The movements I used to do with skateboard amplified in significance. With fifty times the speed and momentum carrying further than ever, my heart jumping to the rythmless voyage.

Despite experiencing all these not for the first time it all happened as if I was still just a novice. So, in other words, ten out of ten, would jump off a building again.

I don’t want to give up this experience no matter what. No matter who’s asking, or ordering me. And now here at the sky, I can see it clearly too. Yesterday, the lightning barrage came suddenly and it never paused until I stopped flying.

It must’ve looked like a bird running from the shots of a hunter. But the experience sure wasn’t the same. I didn’t feel like being hunted for sure. More or less, the image it evokes is carrying a handgrenade without a pin, knowing not when it will explode, and being unsure whether to put it down—like an idiot.

And it did explode.

I still survived but it damn fucking hurt.

It took me hours to take it all in and think through—losing all chance to sleep.

And now as I hover here will he try and attack me again? He certainly indicated that but there isn’t a sure way to tell.

I continue to fly and wait. Clouds are ready to burst, all in place. I simply enjoy the fly and the wind, and going over buildings and cars, from so high to stay unseen.

But it never thunders.

No lightning appears.

No growl from the sky.

A rumble or a bam.

Even though I fly—nothing happens. And eventually time arrives for me to stop, to go back to home.

I’m not one much for anticlimax. It irritates me—here too. Am I an idiot? Of course.

So I continue despite eating away from my sleeping time and no danger appearing so far. At some point though a rather curious sight catches my eye.

And my blood freezes cold.

World turns upside down and again, in a spiral.

A spiral going deeper and deeper, through its illusory existence.

That’s the vertigo I’m feeling at the sight, which is under me.

A man sprawled on the ground, blood spurting under his body into a red, red pool. A fresh scene.

I never did this before, but for this instance, I come closer. Slowly, my wings carry me down, careful not to be seen. And when I’m on both my feet, it’s clear as day. Clear as night. My expanded vision didn’t lie at all. This corpse—I’m sure you figured this out already.

Leon, dead, lying on the ground. Eyes open wide, both bright blue. But I can sense the shock emanating from them. His body twisted into a shape which no longer could ever be repaired.

Dead.

Dead.

So brutally, so brusquelly, so fully, that no wonder—dead.

As if—

As if.

Murdered.