moment, as if it were fighting
gravity and losing, before continuing to her chin. The droplet
reached the edge and fell to the ground, making a tiny splash that
went unnoticed by anyone in the stadium.
“I can do this,” Taylor said under her
breath. Despite her stronger, more capable body, her muscles ached
and her lungs burned. She had been training for two hours
straight—no breaks, no water, no rest—and had barely learned
anything. All she had been able to do was to create a small orb
about the size of a basketball, which had taken more than an hour
to accomplish. During that time, she had basically been standing
still, so she was surprised at the toll it had taken on her.
Gabriel explained that every angel act—whether mental or
physical—had a physical component to it. Therefore, the thirty or
forty attempts to harness the power of light to create a ball of
energy had been the equivalent of running about twenty miles, based
on Gabriel’s estimations. Taylor felt like she had run a hundred
miles—or more. But her new and improved body managed to sustain her
in a way that never before would have been possible.
For the last thirty minutes she had been
trying to fly. “You can do this,” she repeated as she took her
first step. They had started with hovering, but Taylor was unable
to encourage her wings to break from the skin and muscles in her
back. You can’t hover if you don’t have wings. Changing tactics,
Gabriel had instructed her to try a running start, almost like an
airplane speeding down a runway. The hope was that the forward
momentum, along with a high jump at the end, would allow her
instincts to take over, thus forcing her wings out.
The first three times she had crash landed
before ever really taking off. But she had stayed true to her
promise to Gabriel that she would not get frustrated, and had kept
trying.
She sped up, turning her light jog into a
run, faster than any human being could move. She hissed over and
over again: “You can do it, you can do it, do it, do it, do it…”
Taking her already blazing speed up another notch, she began
sprinting down the field. Unlike even the fastest football players,
who might be able to go end zone to end zone in thirteen or
fourteen seconds, Taylor got there in three. Waiting until the last
possible second—just before she reached the end of the grassy
field—Taylor leapt skywards with all her might, higher than she had
ever jumped, willing her body to take over, releasing her mind to
her angel instincts. The monkey tittered at her while licking an
ice cream cone. Chocolate, of course. Gravity took over and
slammed her down forcefully. Except this time she didn’t have soft
grass to land on. She careened into the metal bleachers, crunching
them under her steely angel frame. “Ahhh!” she yelled.
In seconds Gabriel was by her side, still
smiling. He had been smiling the whole day. Either he was trying to
be positive for her sake, or he was amused by her struggles. Either
way, it annoyed her, but she dared not complain. “You’re bleeding,”
he said.
“You think?” Taylor said sarcastically,
giving herself a minor reprieve from her pent up anger.
Lifting a mangled piece of metal bleacher
that had wrapped around her arm, Gabriel said, “It’s not deep.
Watch it heal.”
As soon as the offending metal was removed
from the wound, Taylor watched as the steady stream of white blood
that poured from her skin became a trickle and then stopped
completely, of its own accord. The three-inch gash became
two-inches, and then one, her skin knitting itself together as if
she was watching the speeded up process of an injury healing
through the use of stitches over the course of a few months.
“Awesome,” Taylor breathed.
“Okay, break over,” Gabriel said, clapping
his hands together. “We need maintenance over here!”
Grudgingly, Taylor picked herself up. Gabriel
didn’t offer a helping hand. That was a break? Taking two
minutes to watch
gravity and losing, before continuing to her chin. The droplet
reached the edge and fell to the ground, making a tiny splash that
went unnoticed by anyone in the stadium.
“I can do this,” Taylor said under her
breath. Despite her stronger, more capable body, her muscles ached
and her lungs burned. She had been training for two hours
straight—no breaks, no water, no rest—and had barely learned
anything. All she had been able to do was to create a small orb
about the size of a basketball, which had taken more than an hour
to accomplish. During that time, she had basically been standing
still, so she was surprised at the toll it had taken on her.
Gabriel explained that every angel act—whether mental or
physical—had a physical component to it. Therefore, the thirty or
forty attempts to harness the power of light to create a ball of
energy had been the equivalent of running about twenty miles, based
on Gabriel’s estimations. Taylor felt like she had run a hundred
miles—or more. But her new and improved body managed to sustain her
in a way that never before would have been possible.
For the last thirty minutes she had been
trying to fly. “You can do this,” she repeated as she took her
first step. They had started with hovering, but Taylor was unable
to encourage her wings to break from the skin and muscles in her
back. You can’t hover if you don’t have wings. Changing tactics,
Gabriel had instructed her to try a running start, almost like an
airplane speeding down a runway. The hope was that the forward
momentum, along with a high jump at the end, would allow her
instincts to take over, thus forcing her wings out.
The first three times she had crash landed
before ever really taking off. But she had stayed true to her
promise to Gabriel that she would not get frustrated, and had kept
trying.
She sped up, turning her light jog into a
run, faster than any human being could move. She hissed over and
over again: “You can do it, you can do it, do it, do it, do it…”
Taking her already blazing speed up another notch, she began
sprinting down the field. Unlike even the fastest football players,
who might be able to go end zone to end zone in thirteen or
fourteen seconds, Taylor got there in three. Waiting until the last
possible second—just before she reached the end of the grassy
field—Taylor leapt skywards with all her might, higher than she had
ever jumped, willing her body to take over, releasing her mind to
her angel instincts. The monkey tittered at her while licking an
ice cream cone. Chocolate, of course. Gravity took over and
slammed her down forcefully. Except this time she didn’t have soft
grass to land on. She careened into the metal bleachers, crunching
them under her steely angel frame. “Ahhh!” she yelled.
In seconds Gabriel was by her side, still
smiling. He had been smiling the whole day. Either he was trying to
be positive for her sake, or he was amused by her struggles. Either
way, it annoyed her, but she dared not complain. “You’re bleeding,”
he said.
“You think?” Taylor said sarcastically,
giving herself a minor reprieve from her pent up anger.
Lifting a mangled piece of metal bleacher
that had wrapped around her arm, Gabriel said, “It’s not deep.
Watch it heal.”
As soon as the offending metal was removed
from the wound, Taylor watched as the steady stream of white blood
that poured from her skin became a trickle and then stopped
completely, of its own accord. The three-inch gash became
two-inches, and then one, her skin knitting itself together as if
she was watching the speeded up process of an injury healing
through the use of stitches over the course of a few months.
“Awesome,” Taylor breathed.
“Okay, break over,” Gabriel said, clapping
his hands together. “We need maintenance over here!”
Grudgingly, Taylor picked herself up. Gabriel
didn’t offer a helping hand. That was a break? Taking two
minutes to watch
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