The Winged [HIATUS]

Chapter Twelve

“If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't I?” -E.Y. Harburg

[ C H A P T E R   T W E L V E ]

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Tempest opens and closes her mouth several times, unsure of what to say. “Did I just read your mind again?” she stammers at last.

I shrug my shoulders. “If anything, I read yours,” I reply, my voice quivering. Touching the mind of another person is so... bizarre. It is comparable to accidentally sticking a finger in a light socket, except the tingly sensation is creeping through my brain instead of my hand. 

Tempest’s electric presence gently grazes mine, like a moth’s wing. Well, this is odd, she thinks to me. I can hear her clear as day, almost as if she is whispering directly into my ear.

Another puzzle piece clicks in my head. On our way to the salon, Tempest had stereotyped Ohio as barren farmland, but she denied speaking up. I dismissed it as my imagination, but maybe…

I close my eyes, wondering if I can use this newfound ability on command. After taking a few deep breaths, I relax and allow my consciousness to dilate, encompassing the area around me with an invisible sphere. If I focus too hard, my heightened perception immediately slips away. Again and again my efforts fail.

Stop trying, Tempest interjects. My abilities take a lot of concentration, but I know I’m using them correctly because I listen to my instincts. You need to heed yours.

I take one more steadying breath and follow my friend’s advice: I allow my mind to go blank. Still, it is the seemingly simple things in life that prove to be the most challenging. Letting myself go is hard. My head wants to analyze every little detail, but the rational side of me eventually yields and shuts it down. I retreat into myself and expand at the same time. The world around me consists only of white noise. I feel my muscles working, my heart beating, the wind sliding between my feathers… then that dissipates as well. I am everything and nothing.

That’s when I sense it – a tiny pinprick at the edge of my mind. Calmly, I order my awareness to expand again. This time it explodes outward and envelops everything within a one mile radius, forming a 360-degree radar composed of vibrations and sounds. I see a small orb of light that I assume is Tempest. A tendril of my own energy reaches out and latches onto hers. I cannot peer into her mind, but I can feel her. I open my eyes.

Congratulations! she thinks. You did it!

This is so weird, I say, projecting the thought directly into her brain. I can’t explain this process in words, yet somehow I know exactly what I am doing. The tingling subsides as I grow accustomed to the new method of communication.

It’s convenient, isn’t it? Tempest comments. This way we don’t have to yell over the wind. She reaches back and fastens her scarf a little tighter to emphasize her point.

I fan out my wings and bank slightly to the left, gliding along on a nice air current. Come over here! I exclaim. The air is fine!

After two hours of flight, I am beginning to tire out. My iPod is blaring heavy metal at full volume to keep us pumped. Tempest was reluctant to listen at first, but she's really gotten into it. Who would have guessed that the bookworm was a metalhead at heart?

We are screaming the lyrics of a Linkin Park song – terribly off-beat, I might add – when the first raindrop lands on my screen. I take a good hard look at the dark clouds billowing on the horizon. Worry etches itself into my features. Tempest’s face creases with concern when she notices my mood change.