Wishes, Wings, And A Silvertongue

by Alexandyne

I've always wanted wings. I never thought that this would happen, though. I never thought that I would read myself wings. I never thought I would be a Silvertongue. I stared at my wings and screamed. I, Beth, had read words that spouted wings on my back.

1. Angels On My Window

Ever since I was three, I've wanted wings.I have always wanted to soar through the skies amongst the birds, looking down at the cities and people far below. I don't remember why I've wanted this, but I have.

I'm 13 now, anyway. And I still don't have wings. My favourite book of all time is Maximum Ride, though. When I read the book, I get to escape into my dreams. I can finally imagine what it's like to feel the rush of the wind through your feathers and the adrenaline of a freefall, and it's... amazing.

I rolled my shoulders, feeling the joints popping as I stretched. I opened the first Maximum Ride book, preparing to read the entire series for the seventh time. I looked around my room for a minute, listening to the sounds of the cars far below my apartment. I could hear my aunt talking with someone on the phone two rooms over, but aside from that everything was quiet.

I never read aloud. It seemed... forbidden, almost. But now, locked away in my room, with no one there but me, I felt like I could steal a moment. I opened my mouth and began reading, my voice rough and whispery in my attempt to keep my aunt from hearing me.

As I read it, I felt an increasing pressure grow on my back, then fade. I frowned some, but kept reading. I got to the part where everyone in the flock was introduced. I loved this part; the characters seemed to come alive in my mind as though the book was a window into another world. I heard a shuffling, and looked up from my book to see tiny fingers on my windowsill.

I batted my eyes, wondering if I was actually seeing what I thought I was seeing. We were on the 5th floor of our apartment complex, and there wasn't a fire-escape out my window. I walked over and looked down to see the little fingers were attached to wiggling girl. All I could see of her was her blonde curly hair. I gasped, and opened the window. I was never afraid of heights, which was a good thing or else I might have passed out.

"Hey," I called out. "What are you doing?" The girl looked up, terror in her big blue eyes. She was about 6. I gasped and stumbled backwards.

The face of the little girl was exactly as I pictured Angel from the book I had been reading moments before. The shock was too much, and as much as I hated to admit it... I passed out.