Flying, soaring, plummeting

Sometimes I just want to fly. You dig. Flying, you see, is not something fit for the mortal dimension. It is a spectacular phenomenon, nonetheless. A human gets to overlook life's greatest mysteries through being a saucer of sorts. No one has felt such liberation, such authority over one’s existence, yet. It is a blessed experience locked away from our race of mongrels because we are, as of yet, a weak species, particularly of the mind. Regardless, there is hope for another avenue of admission to the abilities one can only dream of. A possibility is feasible.

There is a present remedy which can still be treated, disconnection to the spiritual realm. All it requires is attentive dismissal from attachments of any form. Like mwah, one must be willing to give up past relationships, even with one’s lineage. For true liberation and flight, this is the way. It is difficult though, understanding that modern beings still struggle with being free! But, hey we are still, as of yet, blind. Honestly, we are a caged animal species, barred from our authentic selves. I can slightly grasp the bias towards one’s ancestry, but what is the meaning of these additional fixations? I am referring to that garbage form of currency, individuals delve on, or more so, sacrifice their existence for. Ehh, green this… green that. Are we so imbecilic? I guess so. There is apparently a new form of obsession, on the rise. Those square-like communicative devices, which individuals seem to associate with identity. Those are robots, by the way, in the making, and they have no use for us. It is simply another part of the plague keeping us from genuine liberation.

Now what was I- oh yes, right- now one's access to spirituality cannot be overlooked for it is the difference between true flight and bondage. A power, as you may call it. One must be able to garner strength from this dimension for it can impose abilities unknown to man. Within the confines of our world, specks of the intangible reside.

Flying is not exactly a part of my arsenal, at the moment. It is difficult to fathom, with all the knowledge present, but I shall try to explain. At times, I just can’t shake the feeling that I am not meant for this modern life. What are my abilities, one may ask? I am still working out those kinks. For outsiders peering in, know that I am at a standstill right now. What once was, is not coming out right now. For some odd reason, I am suffering from a form of memory loss. I can’t seem to recall the last time I exerted the force instilled within me. I know it's there. Whatever it is, I can still feel it deep, even to the level of my bones.

Of course, there are limitations in the human race, but in all honesty, I am the exception. I am a superhuman being. I know it. Non-supers do not really deserve my presence, my breath of unique vitality, my- I thought I heard something. Well, none the matter, I have tried to be fair, but, quite frankly, it cannot be held back any longer. I am the alpha. There is no real need for an omega. In due course, I will get my chance to prove myself, yet for now I must subside my processions of the mind, so no one suspects any irregularity.

Tap… a silence glistens. Tap, tap… there is a noticeable halt in the break of action. Tap, sho-v-e. “Ok, umm… hello, are you okay, sir... what is it, Mr. Connor?” Delia asked, puzzled but not shaken. “I mean, you have just been sitting with your eyes locked out to space. What gives?”

A six-foot, man-child, sits hunched on a public bench studying the movements of the rushing traffic. It was, in a sense, an algorithm of sorts. Of what he sees, only that answer lies in the twisted fragments of his mind. A voice procures around the abscesses of his mind, but only by a faint amount. Nevertheless, this man was in his own time zone. As for the neighborly female, she continues to pester and dwell for the man does not even shed her a hint of acknowledgement.

Now this girl was a college sophomore at the prestigious institute known as Georgetown University. Although there was no business for her being there, she had to do her due diligence. Delia Adams was brought up in a courageous light, stemming from the notion of being the better man. And yes, this is still the patriarchal social sphere, in which most American's, especially female specimens, are succumbing to the rules indoctrinated by the heads of society. But, nonetheless, the girl’s father taught her better than to leave a Caucasian schoolboy suspended out in the open, without any assistance, for his lonesomeness could be the cause of his downfall. There are too many young lads drifting about without proper stability, he would declare. It is our job as Americans to pick him up from his secluded position and get him producing again for there are too many Negros impinging on the purity this country stands for. Anyhow, there are a couple exceptions to the new case at hand. One being that this man, Conner, is not of any age to be in school. Give or take his dimensional figurations, he looks to be around the age of forty, withstanding his boyish layout and tendencies. Nevertheless, the underwear, which stands as his only support, does not rectify him as a school kind of guy. What would make a daughter of the senior vice president of postal services, commit such frailty? Well, it should probably be mentioned that Delia is the first out of many, to speak to the man. He is not one to be accepted in this world for Conner is of negro tracing.

           There was a persistent silence at hand, Delia pressed on, nonetheless. This was, of course, a purposeful visit. “Sir, you are looking duly catatonic, can I spare you some help? I mean, I am in no position to wage sufficient medical help, but there is obviously something keeping you so riveted in place. Why is that? Did your family leave you here? They must be so worried about you or maybe you were the one who left them. Hmm… well, in any case, you do not seem at odds to-”. She stopped herself before revealing the manifested beliefs, she has already worked so hard to readily disclose.

           Before Delia began developing the next arsenal for her attack, she was interrupted, in a rather timely fashion. “Miss, umm… I am not sure about your name, but are you alright? My associates and I have been watching you remain, in that up righted position, for quite some time. We wanted to check on you before but waited to see if you would eventually move on.”

           “I am fine, Ma’am. This here gentleman-

           “Oh, that is good” was her response, waiting at the ready. The interruptive specimen was not rather tall, nor short, thin nor plump, but of average proportion. Mrs. O'Hannigan was the name of a lady who did not dare introduce herself, in entirety, except for on occasion, in the household and the “Come one, Come all, Beauty Salon”, she oversaw. Nonetheless, she was amid dragging this younger child back into the shop, when the girl managed to explain the situation.

           “Yes, so I happened to pass by this bus stop on my way to school and-”

           “Oh, speaking of school, aren’t you supposed to be there? Where is it you go to?

           Delia, with an irritated stitch, replied “Georgetown”. Her voice came out rather monotone-like.

           “Oh, how splendid, dear. You know, my niece attends there. It is such a nice school, with so many opportunities. Have you already made up your mind about your major?

           “For god’s sake lady, this man needs assistance.” Mrs. O'Hannigan motioned toward the pointed finger only due to the obviousness of the situation.

           “Oh, right-him. Well dear, to tell you the truth, this man is probably a drug addict. We believe he is waiting for a ride if you catch my drift.”

“Right… but have you checked his pulse? It is just what I was getting ready to do.” The man’s hunched cross-legged position remains. He does not flinch a muscle in the hope that no one will suspect his thinking intervals or delusions. “Do you need assistance to find your way back home? Please answer me, sir! I am here to help.” No response came from the man; however, his left pupil sheds a couple inches toward her vicinity. A landmark from its previous five-year mark.

I so want to fly, but I am honestly unsure if this body is ready to take on the challenge. My mind training seems to be preparing me for the inevitable task, yet this body of mine, it is not read-I mean, I have never truly flown… I guess, you never know if you don’t give it a good visceral push, huh… The decision, to be frank, is difficult, but I must be the captain of my own ship, right?... Huh, what is that? Am I being watched?... This eye trick sure does wonders… What are those women discussing? Well, at least they are not looking in my direction. Honestly, this flight must be at the ready for it can never be known when the powers instilled will have to be activated… I mustn't tell anybody what I feel I am capable of, on account of the government. That corrupt establishment is always looking for weapons of “mass destruction”. Take it as my own death sentence if I ever submit to their requests. I would have lost the war for choice… They will never take me! Ugh, I am being watched. I bet they work for the government, probably some spies. No, no siree, I will not be taken captive, if it is the last thing I do.

Delia silenced the women’s pressing concerns, motioning towards the man’s vein-popping neck. Slowly she gestured- gulp. The girl had no idea what she was getting into. Chomp! With that, the man took off on his predetermined destination. He had no choice, but to fly. As for the girl, who’s screech alerted the whole neighborhood, her original premise had been restored.

                                                         ---

Knock, knock. “Hello dear, can I come in? I am unsure if you are still accepting visitors for the moment, but I cannot leave you unattended.” 

There was a fear piercing on the exterior of the college-age girl. She was understandably shaken from the event, no doubt. But that is not the entirety which evidently shapes it. By her calculations, the man was not supposed to act, for it was programmed in Delia’s mind that he would never resist her temptations, he would always remain idle. “Yes, I am waiting for my family at the moment, but sure, come in.”

“So, how are you doing? I know the man was a menacing creature, but I was definitely not expecting him to be so vicious.”

“I… Well, give me a second.” Having it brought to fruition; the event became real. Delia needed some more time to process her fright. While she did not necessarily want to speak to Mrs. O'Hannigan, Delia did not want to be alone for the moment.

“Oh, of course. But let me just tell you that while you were screaming, that man did not get too far. I may have misjudged him; he is not a drug addict. No, just crazy in the mind, that’s all.”

“Really, how do you know?” Delia pressed.

“Umm, well, it is rather interesting. After he bit your- um- finger, he ran off and leaped into the highway. He did not make it far obviously, but maybe he thought he could just fly away.

“Wow, I would have never thought. Hmm… thank you for this, I did not necessarily know that. I guess they- I mean, he is deranged.

“No problem, and before I leave, let me get you some food. I know this is a hospital, but they have to have something decent here.” And before waiting for any answer, the lady was off with the door shutting behind her. Delia relished in bed. She was now no longer an outsider, like the man. Mrs. O'Hannigan, on the other hand, was on her way to the café. She kept thinking to herself, “why would anyone want to fly away from this heavenly place? He must be crazy, must be.”