Okay, so background information. I went to an art school (to study creative writing) for a while, and in September, I quit to do online school stuff. This was my farewell story to the class, pretty much, and I'm not sure what I think of it (it was one of my trademark 30 minutes before it was due stories), especially because I tended to write essays. Blah. So, any opinions would be nice. ---------- 3:42 am. It was the 2nd of August, 1992. The world was a giant sphere of chaos: children crying, running into their parents' bedrooms because they had nightmares, the night's birds chirping, begging for someone to wake up and give them the attention that they so desperately craved. What those lonely birds were unaware of, though, was the man standing on the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge, wanting only one thing out of his life: to be one of them. He had told everyone that he would come across during his life's journeys of his great dream to fly amongst the birds. Most would laugh it off, others would raise an eyebrow and ask in a gentle voice if he had been prescribed any medication that he had forgotten to take. All in all, however, it was shrugged off as a childhood fantasy that he was too fond of to let go. This “childhood fantasy,” however, ran much deeper than anyone could have ever dreamed. No one could even begin to imagine the nights he'd spent sleepless, studying the great Leonardo Da Vinci's flying machines, pondering plausible ways through which he could bring the nearly 500 year old blueprints back to life, in an attempt to aid himself in his perpetual quest for flight. He had constructed a scale model of Da Vinci's airplane, which, once completed, he had thrown from the roof of his run-down apartment building, eagerly wondering how far the plane would fly, and if it would be close enough for him to see it land. He tossed it into the wind, his hopes soaring as high as the gray nighttime clouds above his head, but to his dismay, the plane plummeted to the ground below, taking a large portion of his heart with it. For months after the tragic crash of the plane he had thought to be earthly perfection, he sat inside his blackened living room, soul splintered into pieces. If the only machine ever modeled after mother nature's greatest creation could fail, what else did the world offer for for the lonely birdman? It was some time later on a sticky day in July that he was struck with first a conclusion to his failure, and a chance to begin anew. Of course his plane hadn't flown! He was going about it all wrong! It was then that he knew that if he wanted to be a bird, he had to imitate one, and what better way to do so than to make some wings? Perfect, flawless wings made of wire framing, feathers and a fabric thick enough to create wind resistance, yet light enough to not weigh him down. They were to be just as good—if not better—than his soon-to be brothers' wings. The next thirty days went by in a blur of trips to the library, sitting in front of the computer, scribbling notes onto anything he could find, and snow white feathers. And then, finally, on the faithful day of August the 2nd, birdman finally held up the fruit of his labors, as if displaying it to onlooking fans, and congratulated himself. It was on this night that the svelte twenty-something year old man, strolled down the street to the Golden Gate Bridge, whistling all the way, with wings in tow behind him, resting in a red Radio Flyer wagon. Every once in a while, one of the pure white feathers would float noiselessly off of his magnificent set of wings and land on the tarry black pavement behind him, leaving a trail towards his final destination, not much unlike Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs on the worn, dirt path in the woods. Eventually, birdman reached his destination: the Golden Gate Bridge. He eyed the bridge, taking note of its countless supports, cables, nuts and bolts, and then carefully picked up his delicate set of wings and strapped the nearly weightless contraptions to his naked, emaciated back. Slowly, he pulled himself up the rusty red bridge, easing himself foot by foot until he reached the very top. It was unusually chilly on the morning that birdman stood at his full height, with his crudely beautiful feathered wings outstretched to greet the sky, on the 212th support cable of the bridge that he had passed over every day since he was a boy. It was 3:42 and 27 seconds when he jumped. 3.5 seconds of freedom were all that he received from the earth; it was all he'd really wanted, anyway.
holy fuck man, i really liked that. that was trippy. i was sitting here, like mesmerized while reading that. thanks man, that was really beautiful.
Thanks a lot. I'm always glad to hear when someone really likes my stuff. You definately made my day better!
I can see you've learned SEVERAL rules for getting noticed! Number ONE, being your thread Title. Rule: "Catch them EARLY!" With your title. Next rule. KEEP them interested!
great story, reminded me of the tale of icraus, how he and his father built wings and he wanted to fly higher but the sun burnt his manmade wings and he well is said to fall into the ocean or rise up into the sea, but yeah good stuff man, why did you drop out of school, you got a strong talent and any chance you have of developing it should be take advantage of. But im sure you have your reasons. -Peace
Wow, I thought people had stopped commenting on this. Thanks for the compliments. and here I was thinking that I shouldn't write stories (I'm more of an essay/trippy poetry-ist) I didn't drop out of school, actually. I left to do online school stuff with Keystone. Like, I needed 8 credits to graduate (I was supposed to be a junior this year), I could get 7 in a year at school and they wouldn't let me take an extra credit on my own accord. I didn't want to take one class and then a bunch of stupid electives my senior year, so, well, I left. Damned school system!
