I don't remember when I learned to fly.

But I knew I loved it. I was young then and there were other powers coupled with my ability to fly that I wasn't aware of then. Back then I wasn't aware of a lot of things: how quickly being different makes you stand out, how dangerous it is to care about people, and maybe most importantly, what truly lied within me...

However, that didn't mean I was totally ignorant to the workings of the world. I knew flying wasn't something I could share with everyone. I couldn't be talking with my friends one minute and the next firmly planting my feet and ejecting straight towards heaven. This was my secret and I was determined to keep it buried as deep as possible. 

Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, being different has a way of making you stand out. It wasn't long until others became aware of me. Now I don't mean other 'normal' people. I mean people like me. But not the kind of people who embraced someone new. I mean the type of people who wanted to hurt you. The type of people who saw you as a threat and needed to terminate you. I specifically remember one summer night a few years back when I was still in the dawn of my powers...

...It was a beautiful summer night. Evening was approaching and the sun had just begun her descent, leaving behind a trail of bright oranges, pinks, and reds. I found myself walking through a quiet neighborhood, eerily empty now that I think back to it. I took one last look around and decided it was a good opportunity to stretch my wings (now I know I said I could fly, but I don't have wings. It's a figure of speech...). So I took off. I thought I'd test my limits and quickly gained not only speed, but height. I was afraid even though I knew I was in complete control. Would moving to fast rip the skin from my body? Would I fly to high and freeze? Would I lose my abilities mid-flight and fall to my death? All these thoughts ran through my head but I knew I was safe. I imagined that no one had ever felt the way I was feeling now. 

I was wrong.

I began my descent and came to a slow landing. As my feet returned to the pavement I was greeted by a kid probably around my age who looked at me with an arrogance I hadn't encountered until that day. I knew this kid was trouble and I didn't want to deal with him. He approached me with a smug smile and began to talk to me. Check that, he began to threaten me. His words escape me now, but I knew he knew I could fly and he didn't like that. I knew from now on I wasn't safe, not as long as I had my abilities. There were other people with him but I was totally unaware of them until he turned his back. I can't remember for certain, but I'm sure he turned around and offered one more scathing remark accompanied by a vicious smile. With that he turned completely and flew away. That was the first time I saw anyone fly...it was magnificent but coupled with it came an ominous feeling. Flying didn't make me invincible and there were people out there who wanted to hurt me. What was I to do? Would I have to stop flying? Would they find me and kill me? I was left with these questions as my phone rang and I answered to the sound of my uncle's voice.

We were going to go to the movies. He wanted to see 'The Dark Knight Rises' and although I had already seen it, I told him I would go with him to see it again. Some how I met him at his work even though I have no recollection of how I got there (thinking back I probably just flew). He drove us to the movie theater and I remember the eight lane highway was littered with Egyptian architecture. Not real Egyptian architecture of course, but the facades of most of the buildings imitated the grandeur of that long lost civilization (years later, I would fly for my life under these buildings...). I remember telling my uncle about a building that we passed...I can't recall that building now, but it stuck out like a sore thumb. The two of us arrived at the movie theater, which if I remember correctly, had over nine stories...We bought our tickets and walked towards the elevator that we would take to a higher floor where are movie was showing. I remember the elevator had a floor that had some recoil to it, almost like a trampoline. I found this strange and committed it to memory. We made our way to our theater and there we joined more of my family members: aunts, other uncles, cousins, grandparents. We occupied an entire row in the theater. 

Just then things began to change. There was a commotion and I knew that we were not safe here. Like I said, I was a lot younger back then but somehow, without thinking, I summoned the courage to tell my family that they needed to get out of here, fast. I remember looking my uncle in the eye and I could sense he knew something was different about me. I yelled at him. He needed to leave. The theater began to shake and I knew staying wouldn't get me anywhere. We all rushed to the elevators in the back of the theater. My elevator had a steel grated floor and, as far as I could tell, was empty. I heard a voice. The voice was menacing. For a moment I completely froze. I knew this voice didn't belong to any friend or family. Just then, the steel grating began to come unhinged and I thought for sure this was the end of me. A strong voice called out. I looked down to see a humanoid like figure. His entire body was ice and his face looked strong and determined. Beneath him were several men covered in metal. They were there to help me. However, they took too long to remove themselves from the hiding spot they had made and the man with the menacing voice shoved them down through the elevator shaft. The whole time I was completely unaware that we were moving upward and when I recognized this fact, I hoped the rest of the elevators were not following our cue...

I blacked out. The next thing I remembered was lying face down on the helicopter landing on the roof of the theater. The sky resembled fire. I looked to my right and I was gripping my uncle's hand. The noise on the roof was tumultuous. I couldn't hear myself speak. Over us, many men fought. They soared through the air in balls of energy with the intent on ripping the other in half. Large gusts flew around us and many times I thought my uncle and I would be tossed from the roof. I feared for our lives...At that point it hadn't occurred to me that if we fell I could simple fly us to safety. I'm not sure if that was eventually the case either. My memory of this event ends there. I have no recollection of what transpired the rest of that night. All I know is that my family is safe and I'm safe. 

That night made me aware of one great fact: Because I had these powers, not only was I endangered, but everyone and everything I cared about became targets as well. I never felt more fear than I did that night. Well maybe I did, but that night was a different brand of fear. It was a constant. It was something I could never face or overcame. As long as I cared, people would get hurt and it would be my fault. That was a burden I was going to have to live with. Being as young as I was, it wasn't even a burden I truly understood. But I knew I had two options: I could strive to protect the things I loved at all costs or I could stop caring. Looking back now, I think I exercised both these options. 

That was a turning point in my life. Flying evolved. It wasn't simply an ability any more, it was a responsibility. And I took it seriously. I don't remember when I learned to fly but I remember what it carved into me. And that is something I can never stop caring about.

The sun was high.

My towel lies on a sandy beach bereft of any water. My canine companion, laid out in a pregnant sprawl, is panting sporadically in the heat.

As I re-position myself, I notice a large bulge near her hindquarters. I begin to massage the bulge near her belly and can feel the object move through her. As it nears her backside, I force my hand into her, gently, yet purposeful. My hand returns to the hot air of the beach groping a small puppy, flesh dried and cracked, like a mummy discovered after thousands of years of quiet slumber. It is dead.

I am unfazed and emotionless. I try to recall this happening once before but my mind is an endless maze of fog and mist. Despite not recalling this experience, I am still unaffected by its occurrence.

I only have a moment to think these thoughts before my focus is shifted back to the dog. She whines, quietly. Another bulge appears at her rear but this one seems more lively. She pushes out a young pup, white and black, with the blindness that accompanies first life. This one is healthy, passionate about the prospect of living. Its instincts kick in. Feeling around for a comfortable area, the pup finally settles near the edge of the towel, partially crossing the sand.

I reach down and grab a small metal object, curved in a half-moon pattern, which I place on the ground. The curve fits snugly against the pup's spine, shielding him from the fury of the hot sand.

I turn back to its mother, expecting more of a litter. When nothing happens, I am not confused, but I am slightly disappointed. Dogs are not supposed to have just one pup. What has transpired here does not align with what I believe I know, but I accept what has happened without a second thought.

I shift my gaze back to the pup. He has grown since I saw him thirty seconds earlier, his eyes now wide to the ever-changing world around him. The sand has turned to short, cool grass. I am not surprised. But why? Sand does not just change to grass when one looks away from it. But I am resolute in my condition.

I turn to peer over my shoulder and see a tall, thin building a few yards away. The front facade has no entry, only windows and a surrounding veneer of rusted, orange brick. 

My canine companion starts to talk to me. Her mouth does not move, yet I hear her. She asks me about the two brick houses behind me. I turn to peer over my shoulder again and am not surprised to see two houses, the second to the right of, and set back from, the original house. This house is still two stories but the brick is slightly more brown and the facade is longer. This house is surrounded by several trees, the only trees that grace the rolling landscape.

I do not like this house. Aesthetically, there is nothing wrong with it. But I do not like it. I talk to my dog about the house but I don't remember what I say. I know the content contains that specific house, but as soon as the words are uttered, their echo is lost and does not return to my mind. I do not understand the words that I speak. My dog seems to understand. I do not tell her I dislike the house. 

The house on the left compels me. I stand up and walk toward it. I leave the dogs alone on the towel. The mother is exhausted, left with her newborn, but I know they will be all right. The sky is very blue as I walk to the side of the house and open the door. I step inside. I walk into a long, white kitchen. This is my kitchen. This is my house. The floor plan of my house does not match the floor plan of this house. The volumes are off, the spaces wrong. But this is my house. They are the same. And I am not surprised.

I feel someone watching me. They want me here and I want to be here. But I do not know where to go. I feel something moving my legs as I walk to the dining room. My dining room. I don't know which way to turn but still I'm guided by phantom legs and the way becomes clear. Something is propelling my legs in the right direction. I want to stop and turn around but I dare not. I've come this far. I must keep moving.

I'm taken down a hallway into the last room on the right. I sit on the edge of the bed, facing the door. This is my sister's room. The windows are shaded but all the lights are on, highlighting the yellow paint. I look at the wall to my left. This is my sister's room but this left wall is my wall. My dresser is against this wall. I am not surprised.

I hear the person who led me hear speaking but I cannot recall what it's saying. I do not see it but it does not seem menacing. Still, I am quite afraid. I look between the trinkets on the shelf of my dresser and see its face. It is a purple patterned face, like some type of paisley fabric, on a rounded head. Is it yelling at me? I look into the plastic eyes and am aware of its entire body. It is thin as if it were stuffed with cotton and sewed together. I am no longer aware of any speaking but remain afraid. He wants me here. But for what reason, I don't know...Then everything turns to black.

I am not surprised.