Flight of Writing

Mindy Do

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Flight was unbelievable. It was nothing like she’d ever thought possible—it was an encounter with a unicorn, a sprint between the stars, a dance with the shadows of a torchlight. Her mind could barely grasp the fact that she was now one with the wind. A component of the sky. A rider on nature’s finest train.

She felt the gravity ease off of her like a coat pulled by a playful child. Her tangles of dark hair rose, then the rest of her body after, with her feet itching to be on solid earth again. Moments later, the itching stopped—the sensation of empty air was melded into the fullness of nature’s breath that nudged her ever higher.

She stood above the trees, peered between the branches, admired the colors being orchestrated under the sun’s conduct. A warm breeze ruffled the canopies, scattering the floor with light detail. Among these leaves, she spotted a particular item whose golden sheen called out to her. The girl hesitated.

The pull of the single detail tugged her down, and the coat of gravity seemed to be cast upon her like a gentleman’s final grudging show of charm. She resisted the weight; she wanted to fly again, to go up. Her story—it was unwritten.

But her efforts were in vain. She sunk to the ground, her feet planted firmly in the grass, and when she plucked the leaf up to inspect closely, she realized that the sheen was gone. It was simply a trick of the light. Nature’s play-

She set down her pen and stared at the leaf of notebook paper in front of her. She blew out a sigh of air that she’d held since the second paragraph. Writer’s block.

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Flight of Writing