Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Gabriel GarcĂa Marquez. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Here's the second monologue, from an entirely different point of view. This one is my favourite - which is yours? Or do you have another idea you like better? Let me know! And thanks for reading )
2. The old man is a Norwegian with wings.
Those people were barbarians. I have sailed around the world, and everywhere an injured man is helped before he is questioned - beaten - poked, prodded like an animal. They acted as if I were not a person at all.
When their son began to walk, he often came to see me. He looked at me with curiosity but, unlike his elders, he did not judge what he saw.
I began to understand their language but I never spoke it. Instead, I taught the boy a few words of my language - ocean, stars, alone. I would sing sea chanteys if his mother was out of earshot and he brought me an extra blanket when the wind turned cold. In that empty village of beggars and fools, it was only the children I cared to see. They, at least, were straightforward in their scorn or awe.
I became less fond of the boy when he made me ill. For nights I dreamed of my homeland, restless and afraid. In fevered visions I saw its barren mountains and rocky shores, heard my father's voice and felt the confines of the cave where I used to hide myself and my damned wings.
For an instant, when I awoke, I remembered the tune my mother used to sing.
I recovered quickly, more quickly than I allowed anyone to suspect. By that time, the child was being sent away each day and I was ready to leave. The feathers were slow growing back, but I have always been patient. There was a moment as I struggled into the sky when I believed I would again fall to the earth. I have forgotten my age, I thought. I have always hated my wings, and now they cannot bear my weight. How will I fly?
I am flying now. I do not believe, as I used to, that it is my hollow bones or my perfectly angled feathers keeping me aloft.
I am flying on a prayer.
