The golden rays of the sun filtered through the gaps between the boards of the shed walls and through the small windows in the roof. The few dust and ashes suspended in the air seemed like a thousand little white stars in the light. The air was still fresh from the summer night, in this morning when the heat had not yet risen. At this time of the morning the shed was still damp, as the non-existent insulation of the now old, poor quality and badly maintained garden shed did not help.
In this tiny shed at the bottom of Mr and Mrs Dursley's garden, only one corner was dry. A little girl, a little 'bird thing' as she liked to call herself, named after the prettiest flower, was curled up in a corner, surrounded by ashes. Her large, beautiful wings covered her entire body except for her head, like a barrier, a protective wall against the outside world. The child, the little Myosotis, was surrounded by blue flames dancing around her, on her skin and her wings. The reflections of the light from her flames and the sun on her feathers made iridescent reflections appear on the walls of the miserable little shed.
Anyone who saw this image, anyone who had a heart and sensibility that had not been tarnished by years of hatred and resentment towards anything out of the ordinary, towards anything with a bit of magic or supernatural beauty, would be touched by this sight. Would have been struck by the glaring antinomy of the child's beauty and purity, in the midst of the appalling misery of hatred and incomprehension. Pure blue flames, feathers of night, lost in a shed rotting on its feet, dressed in rags torn awkwardly to accommodate its wings. Hideous scars speaking hatred and suffering covering a body far too young for such cruelty.
The good people would take her, protect her, the fools would fear her, despise her, the bad people would use her until they broke her. But for better or for worse none of these people know about her existence and her situation. She is alone, lost, lodged by people who hate her, whose worst side is hardly held back by a force beyond them, which she does not understand, which should have been explained to her if she had a family. But who in her ignorance was unconsciously doing her best to hold the worst of her captors in check.
Myosotis doesn't understand why Vernon can't unleash all his hatred. Why Petunia is acting so strangely. Oscillating between hatred, apathy and guilty affection. Why Dudley doesn't use his great strength and large fists to rip her feathers out as he would have done in other circumstances. But subconsciously she knows one thing. A month is too long. The longer Vernon stays away from home, the more powerful his violent outbursts are. He had never stayed away from home for a month. With her head in her hands, on this beautiful morning she knows that the strange protection that the house seems to offer her from Vernon will havetoo severly weakened after so long. Deeply ingrained in her mind is the first time Vernon unleashed his hatred. The belt, the cries, the screams, the blood, the pain. Her thin, light bones made to roam the sky giving way under blows they were never supposed to endure. The long convalescence, the pain having remained for months. The blood of that nightmarish evening having soaked deep into the thin mattress of the cupboard.
That night, which had been branded into her memory, which every bone in her body, every inch of her skin remembered as if it were yesterday, had been the result of two weeks away from the protective influence of home. A month Vernon would stay away from home and its thin sheets softening the hate, smothering the anger. A month during which all the resentment, all the hatred and violence accumulated during those heinous punishments fortunately soon enough aborted will be unleashed. All the times when his hatred could not find an outlet in violence, in blows, screams and blood because Myosotis had hidden away from his burning gaze. All the times when his eyes had narrowed and become vicious, or his gaze had run through her body like a swarm of hornets, making her want to flee, to run, to leave and to puke.
In this month, each new day would break a new chain so far holding his fury, his hatred, his anger, his thirst for blood and violence and his odious, unnatural and unspeakable carnal desire poorly concealed. Myosotis, in what was left of her innocence, did not yet understand the meaning of his vile looks that seemed to penetrate her skin and eat her to the bone. But she knew that when he returned, every inexplicable chain in the house that had held him back so far would be broken. And that on the evening of his return, should she have the misfortune to be under his gaze, within reach of his hand, his belt and his fists, she would not survive, and that this death would be anything but brief and merciful. Only a long agony of suffering. Worse than her mind, still ignorant of the worst vices in the world, of those not yet inflicted on her by Vernon, could imagine.
Since dawn, when the sky had still tinkled with purple, when the last stars had not yet been wiped from the sky by the light of the day star. Myo had been awake and thinking about it all. Each new awful thought of what Vernon might do to her was more frightful than the last. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her throat was tight, her head ached and her mouth felt like it had taken a big bite of sand from the terror and anxiety. When Vernon returned in a month, there would be no hiding place good enough to conceal her. Petunia, even if she was on her best day, would not be able to protect her. After all, on the first occasion, had she not been present throughout her torment?
Myosotis spent the first day in a catatonic state. Motionless, curled up in a corner of the shed, her wings embracing her, hiding her form as if to protect her from the world. Her flames dancing on her skin and feathers, embracing her, as if trying to reassure her, their soft crackling like a voice whispering to her that everything would be all right, that she would find a way, a solution. That Vernon, this time, would not be able to reach her. But Myosotis was too deep inside herself to hear. Too overwhelmed by terror and apprehension. She didn't even notice when Petunia slipped a small loaf of bread, a piece of apple and a small bottle of water through the trap door of the shed. All day long not a glance was given to her few books or to Jasmine. Even when she caught a large fly that made a noise that some would say was unbearable for over an hour. Her mind was too full of fear and despair.
Only when evening came did her mind calm down somewhat, and her throat loosened enough that breathing ceased to be an ordeal. Her limbs were aching after lying completely still all day, curled up in a corner of the shed. Only when the first stars came out of the window did she relax enough to finally hear the soft, reassuring crackle of her flames. To feel their soft loving warmth on her skin. Their presence, the soft, downy feel of her feathers at the base of her wings against the skin of her neck, acted like a balm on her soul. At last her thoughts became more or less clear, as the fog of terror that had been cast over her last night slowly dispersed. Her mind, at last, felt empty, as if all her emotional capacity had been completely exhausted. She felt raw. Her mind was becoming clearer and sharper. She lifted her head, and looked inside her shed bathed in the evening shadows. The sense of doom of her fate at Vernon's hand seemed to evaporate along with her torpor. The whisper of her flames was right. She must not let go, she must not give up.
The countdown had begun. In a month's time, she would have to find a solution, a way to escape Vernon's merciless rage. She stood there motionless, still wrapped in her wings. Her eyes staring into space. Terror replaced by an emotional emptiness. It was as if the storm had scraped the moor from her mind, washing away plant earth and sand, leaving only bare rock, hard and pure. An almost supernatural calm had taken hold of her, all the superfluous carried away. Leaving her mind free.
Soon she heard a fist pounding against the door, the sound echoing through the shed as Petunia's voice said. "Girl! Get out of there it's time."
Without thinking, Myo let her numb legs lift her up. Her talons biting into the wood of the floor to keep her balanced as she nearly fell, her legs still numb and shaking from not moving all day. She leaned against the wall for a second as she regained her sense of balance. She concentrated on making her flames disappear against their will. Her flames resisted for a moment as if reluctant to leave her before finally disappearing. Suddenly Myo felt cold, and very alone. A bit of the sadness and fear that had been eating away at her all day returned, but Myo quickly choked it off. Petunia was there, she had to go out, and Petunia didn't like her flames.
The knocking on the door was heard again. "Girl! What are you doing? Just because Vernon isn't here doesn't mean you can disrespect me or make me wait!"
Myo took a few hesitant steps towards the door before answering. "Sorry, Aunt Petunia. I'll be right there." Her usually soft and melodious voice sounded hoarse and rough in her mouth. Her throat struggled to produce the desired sounds.
As Myo walked slowly towards the door, slowly regaining the feeling in her legs, Petunia finished unlocking the padlocks and the door opened wide. On the other side was Petunia, with an unreadable look on her face. When Petunia saw her she stopped in her tracks as she was about to turn towards the house and stared at her. She frowned, a flicker of concern crossing her eyes. "Girl? What happened to you? Did you see your face?"
Myo stopped moving forward without understanding. Petunia rarely showed concern for her or worried about her well-being. She placed a hand on her cheek before rubbing her eyes. She could feel the salt streaks along her cheeks and her eyes were slightly puffy from tears and her emotional breakdown from last night and today. She must have looked awful.
"Girl?"
Myo ran a hand over her face, trying to wipe away the traces of tears. Then she shyly looked up at Petunia. "You told me yesterday that Vernon's gone for a month."
Petunia stared at her for a few seconds without seeming to understand. It was as if she had forgotten what had happened all those times before when Vernon had stayed away from home for a long time. "Yes. A month-long business trip to Spain. I don't see the point."
"Every time Vernon stays away from home for several days. When he returns..." Myo could not continue. Her throat was too tight to speak, a sob about to escape her.
Petunia frowned for a moment, then paled slightly as if she had just realised or remembered something important. Her face contracted into a sneer of disgust. Then she relaxed again, as if the emotion that had just passed through her had not occurred. "Oh yes, it's true that he's a bit stern and moody when he comes back from his travels. Well, you'll hide for a few days as usual and everything will be fine." She said, shrugging her shoulders. Then she turned and walked back to the house, adding. "Come on, I don't have all night."
Myo followed her lead, some of the terror back. Petunia didn't understand. After a month away from the mysterious protective aura of the house Vernon was going to kill her! Hadn't she seen all the times Vernon had... She had been there many times, standing still on the side, looking detached. Just waiting for Vernon to finish so she could take her to the bathroom and give her some rudimentary care. Myo was alone, really alone.
She walked into the garden with her head down. Out of habit, as she did every time she had the opportunity to leave the shed, she spread her wings. Feeling the wind blowing through her feathers. The flow of air guided along her wings. Her joints cracking gently with delight after the whole day spent motionless in a corner of the shed. The top of a row of poplars nearby stirred as a few clouds raced across the twilight sky.
Suddenly a strong gust of wind hit her while her wings were still fully extended. Myo let out a small eeeeeep of surprise, and had no time to react as the gust lifted her off the ground. The air, powerful and sudden, caught in her feathers, flowing all along her wings, carrying her away. Her talons, though sunken into the ground, could not hold her as the powerful wind carried her away.
A moment later. When Myo came to her senses, she looked around. She was high up, a good ten feet off the ground. The Dursley garden stretched out before her in a perspective she had never seen. Myo had always been small for her age, and right now she felt like she was standing on the shoulders of a giant. She looked under her talons and finally understood. The gust of wind had blown her off the ground and onto the roof of the shed.
Petunia, below in the garden, had stopped and turned around after hearing her little cry. Her eyes were wide with surprise as she saw Myo crouching on the roof of the shed. At that moment her look was really strange. It went from surprise, fear and incomprehension to eyes devoid of any emotion. For a few seconds the two states alternated rapidly until the strange, empty look seemed to prevail. In a flat, timeless voice Petunia said. " Girl, get down from there and take a shower. You have twenty minutes." Without waiting for an answer she turned and continued to walk towards the house as if nothing had happened.
Myo stood on the roof for a minute or two before snapping out of her stupor. It had only taken a strong gust of wind to lift her up to the roof of her shed! As a new star was born in her head her plan to escape Vernon's fury took shape.
She was going to put all her efforts into learning to fly. Defy all the Dursleys' prohibitions to have more time to learn to fly and in a month's time, when Vernon returned, she would fly away and go to live hidden away from the Dursleys for a few days before returning, until the mysterious force the house was using on Vernon had recovered and he was ignoring her again like before. Her resolve grew stronger. She would disobey Petunia. Go out every night and train. After all Petunia, unlike Vernon, did not beat her. She could yell at her, deprive her of food or access to the house. But she had never raised a hand to her.
She'd rather face Petunia's wrath than Vernon back after a month away from home. She could survive one, not the other.
And her training was starting now! She gathered her courage, and her determination. Then she flapped her wings as hard as she could, imitating the birds she sometimes saw flying, spreading her tail feathers to gain balance. The effort burned her muscles, her breathing was quick, already she was out of breath. But the wind in her feathers, the call of the sky was stronger. Her efforts lifted her off the roof. She was now about ten metres high in the air. A feeling of exhilaration overcame her. Here she was in her element, the place where she really belonged. Not on the ground where she was unable to run properly. No, in the sky. For the first time she saw the neighbourhood of the Dursley house. A street, as she had seen it described in one of her books, surrounded by houses of various kinds, all identical, all with a small garden. Behind the house a few hundreds of meters away was a row of poplars. A little further on was a small wood. A plain.
And above all, for the first time, she saw a real sunset. The horizon was still glowing as the small glowing sphere that had bathed the world in light all day slowly disappeared. On the other side of the sky a pale disc was rising, its soft silver light too dim to dispel the growing shadows of evening.
After barely a minute in the air Myo couldn't take it anymore, her wing muscles burning terribly. She had to land or she would really hurt herself. She stretched her wings to their full width, and glided gently to the ground, letting her instincts guide her. And without a sound she landed. Her wings were hurting terribly from years of confinement in the cupboard and not enough space to move them in the shed. She felt that to have achieved the feat of flying in her condition was not far from a miracle.
As much as she appreciated being able to fold her poor sore wings behind her back, the loss of that indescribable, sublime, exhilarating feeling she had felt a few seconds ago was terrible. But only one thing really mattered. She had finally had the proof! She could fly! Reach the sky, reach her dream, the place where everything in her screamed that she really belonged.
As the adrenaline slowly subsided Myo started walking back towards the house. She only had fifteen minutes left to do everything she needed to do inside. She entered the house and without taking the time to look around the living room she rushed to the bathroom. The pain in her wings was still great, and she needed to drink. Tonight she didn't even take the time to look in the mirror, deciding instead to quench her terrible thirst induced by the day spent without drinking and the impromptu effort made when she had tried to fly.
After drinking she quickly stepped into the shower, letting the icy spray of water run over her feathers and cool her overheated muscles. The sensation was divine. She finished quickly. And before Petunia could make any comment she returned to the shed, where she let her flames wash away any trace of water that had covered her.
That night she fell asleep smiling in the middle of her pile of ashes, letting her flames embrace her tenderly. If her plan worked she would not have to suffer the fury of Vernon's fists and belt.
In the days that followed, Myo entered a whole new routine. During the day, locked in the shed, she spent her time moving her wings and trying to flutter them gently to get used to the movement. It was not easy because of the limited space but Myo did her best. She lay down in a corner on her side and flapped one wing at a time, trying to get the feeling of her first flight. Ten right wing beats, ten left wing beats, and so on. All day long she practised like this. Only rarely did she pause to eat when Petunia did not forget to bring her meals.
At night she would sneak out of the shed through a small hole she had made in the back of the building with her flames. Burning the wood until she had a space large enough to squeeze through. Petunia never looked into the shed and didn't notice. Once outside, after the sun had set, and no one could see her. (The rule was clear, no one could see her.) Myo went to the middle of the garden. Her training consisted of flapping her wings until she was airborne, then flying to the roof of the shed and perching there. Then she would take off again from the roof and climb as high into the sky as possible until her wings hurt before gliding gracefully to the ground, repeating the exercise as many times as possible.
For the first few days she only managed to do it once before her wings hurt too much to continue, but after a week of intensive exercise she managed to do it twice, then three times. Her only concern was the inefficiency of her wings when it came to flapping them to get into the air. It was as if her feathers were really only good for soaring. The frustration was growing by the day, but the exhilaration of being able to fly, to climb into the sky, the place where she really belonged, was worth all the frustration in the world.
Everything was going pretty well, her progress was steady, the movement of her wings becoming more and more natural and instinctive with each day bringing a new progress. Her only frustration was that she felt she had to put more force into her wings than she should in order to fly and gain altitude. But that evening, when Myo was five metres up in the air struggling to climb, she heard the door of the house to the garden open. Turning her head from the stars to the ground she saw Petunia standing in the doorway looking at her. Immediately a shiver of fear ran down Myo's spine. She glided gently to the ground before landing a few feet away from Petunia. Contrite, waiting for the outburst of anger for having done something freakish again, she lowered her head, folding her wings protectively around herself like a cloak. But nothing came, Petunia continued to stare at her in silence for several minutes before saying in a flat, emotionless voice. "Go back to the shed.
Without asking, Myo ran as best she could towards the shed (her legs were not made for running, or even particularly for walking for long, her running made her look clumsy and less than graceful). ) She went back into the shed, not even thinking that going through her secret hole would let Petunia know how she got out in the first place. She waited a long time, prostrate in the shed in the middle of her nest of ashes, for Petunia to arrive and start yelling at her about her displeasure. But even after an hour, no one came.
The next day at noon, while Myo was continuing her flying exercises, Petunia pushed through the cat flap a small tray with some dry biscuits, an apple and some water, so far nothing unusual. But the surprise came when, after the tray, a book was pushed through the cat flap.
Before Myo could say anything she heard Petunia's footsteps going away. Curious, she approached the book. This kind of event was very unusual for her. Since her earliest memory she had only ever received one or two books a year, and then only as a reward for something or after subtly begging Petunia and showing interest in a particular subject. That's how she got her book on insects and spiders, and how she learned what species Jasmine was. But she hadn't done anything lately that was good enough for Petunia, and she hadn't dared to ask anything for a while, feeling that Petunia had been in too bad a mood lately to make any requests.
She crouched down and picked up the strange book. It was a small, thin book. On its cover was a picture of a bird in flight against a blue sky. A common buzzard if she remembered correctly. The title was: "Birds and Flight." A smile played on Myo's lips, she could count Petunia's outbursts of kindness on the fingers of one hand. But this one might just save her life.
She opened the book eagerly. She ignored the introduction, the author's note and the publisher's note to find the table of contents. Apparently the book contained many anatomical descriptions of wings and their muscular and bony structure, of the structure of the bones of birds. But also how it flies, long explanations of Bernouilli's principle. Apparently the shape of the wing plays an important role. The top of the wing being slightly curved while the bottom is flat forces the air above the wing to go faster than the air below the wing, the latter having to travel a greater distance in the same time as the air under the wing. This creates an overpressure under the wing and an underpressure on top, pulling the bird upwards. This coupled with the fact that the bird flaps its wings and pushes the air down and the wing tip up to gain even more lift. The concepts explained in the book were complex and Myo had to reread some of the passages several times to fully understand them but in the end the main principles were pretty clear to her.
Once again Myo inspected her wings, their shape, the type of feathering depending on the location of the wing. Everything matched except for some minor differences, but Myo attributed that to being a bird thing and not a real bird. (Apparently she was a freak even among birds...) Other information was also exciting, where her other book on birds just listed the different species, while this one focused solely on the subject of their method of flight. For example different gliding techniques. The one that interested her most was the use of hot air columns by some birds to climb to higher altitudes by just letting the hot air carry them. The book said that you could recognise this method if you saw a bird flying in a wide circle and climbing higher and higher. ... neat.
The information that really shocked Myo the most, was that apparently she did not take proper care of her feathers. According to the books all birds spend a considerable amount of time smoothing their feathers so that they can fly more easily. Air flows more easily over better maintained and smoother feathers. With apprehension Myo inspected his feathers. And with horror found many signs of poor maintenance and various minor problems described in the book. Fortunately regular ash baths and contact with water had helped to limit the damage. After finishing the book it was already late in the afternoon and evening would soon arrive.
Myo used the few hours he had left before nightfall to groom her feathers. To remove the feathers that were too damaged. She gritted her teeth when she had to remove them, the pain was quite strong for such an apparently harmless act. She smoothed them out and carefully reshaped them. Surprisingly the repetitive act was almost automatic and natural. It elicited a certain pleasure and sense of relaxation in her. As if this act should have been a habit for her since birth and not just discovered now. But the feeling of peace it produced was really appreciable to her. Especially with the background of tension and apprehension that plagued her at the thought of Vernon's return ever closer. So much so that she spent several hours longer than expected tending to her feathers with delicate care.
She did not realise the time until long after the sun had set. Having recovered her wits a little she summoned several small flames around her and admired her feathers. Well groomed, it had a shine and beauty she never knew was possible. She had always found her feathers beautiful, but after taking good care of them as described in the book, it was something else entirely.
It was the first time in her life that she felt so good about herself. How just a few hours of grooming her feathers could have done her so much good mentally and physically was a mystery. She felt stronger, more confident, overall a thousand times better than the best she had ever felt in her life (immersed in her trance she had not noticed the bluish light that enveloped the entire shed, nor the fact that she began to hum a hauntingly beautiful song with words unknown to her, nor even the damaged feathers she had plucked out of her body disappearing in green and purple flames without leaving a trace or ashes. That night, all the inhabitants of Privet Drive had the best night of their lives, and felt an intense and pleasant energy all the week that followed. )
Not wanting to leave her flight training behind for even one night she snuck out of the shed. That night the wind in her feathers seemed even softer and more pleasant than usual. With an absurdly silent flutter of her wings she soared through the air to the top of the shed. She looked around, it was late enough that the street lights were all out. All the houses were silent, not a light, not a voice, not a cat, not a sound. Judging the neighbourhood to be quiet enough to test her theory without compromising the ultimate order of NOT BEING SEEN. She jumped off the roof of the shed and hovered. About two meters above the ground she called her flames just below her. The effect was immediate as she felt the warm air lift her up. Without even having to flap her wings the hot air produced by her flames carried her up into the dark skies of the moons and stars. Soon she was a hundred feet high, the highest she had ever dared to go for fear of being seen.
She dismissed her flames and let herself be carried peacefully by the air currents. The air flowed along her wings, her feathers smooth as silk, not a sound, not even a whistle as she flew in a wide circle above the house. Really wanting to try and see the difference she swung her wings once or twice, each time rising several metres into the air, her wings meeting little resistance. Nothing like yesterday's flight where she had to fight against the air and wind, forcing them to her will to take her up into the air. Tonight the winds and the air accompanied her like allies of all time, letting her glide on the winds. She had always felt the call of the skies, the call of the wind and the vast sky. But tonight, tonight was the first time she really felt right. The real feeling that she could live there for the rest of her life, far above the earth, with the stars as her only limitation.
Letting herself slide along the air currents she made her way back down to the shed. She still lacked stamina, but with her training and new knowledge she was now sure she could fly away from home when Vernon returned. To live in the sky for a few days, before returning when the mystery of the house had taken hold of him again.
That night she went to sleep with a smile on her face, confident that her plan would work. And in the back of her mind, there was a tiny bit of gratitude to Petunia for the book. Maybe it was the mystery of the house still working on Petunia, maybe it was a real moment of kindness, she didn't know, but in any case, she had just helped save her life.
After that the weeks continued to pass, Myo continuing her rigorous training, each day becoming more tough, quicker and more agile in the air, her confidence in her abilities greater and greater. Petunia still the same, still strange and inconsistent. Dudley the eternal happy idiot, still calling her Bird or ignoring her on the rare occasions he saw her. Each new day brought her closer to the inevitable return of Vernon.
Finally, the fateful day arrived. It was a day of grey skies, a thick cloud cover obscuring the sun and diffusing its light, making everything uniform and greyish. In the early evening when the sun had not begun to decline, Myo was startled as she reread "Around the World in Eighty Days". There was a familiar rumble from the other side of the house, the sound of an engine she could recognise anywhere. Vernon's large pickup was pulling into the garage.
A shiver of fear ran down her spine, she didn't have much time to put her plan into action. The day before she had stolen one of Dudley's old backpacks and put all her possessions in it. Her few books and her blanket. She stuffed the book she was rereading into the bag as she heard Vernon's heavy footsteps in the garden and his shouting. "YOU, YOU BITCH, WHORE, YOU DOG, YOU'LL SEE WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO SEE. WATCH OUT, YOU FUCKING SCUMBAG! YOUR FILTHY WITCHY MANIPULATIONS WON'T SAVE YOU THIS TIME!
Myo hurried through the hole in the back of the shed as she heard Vernon unlocking the locks one by one. She was on the other side of the shed tying the rucksack to her chest (no way would her wing movement be impeded by the bag on her back). When the last lock popped and Vernon stormed into the shed, breaking down the door with violence. As she began to fly away she heard deafening screams of rage in the shed and the sound of Vernon smashing the walls and destroying what he could. Probably frustrated by the lack of furniture except for the ridiculously small shelf.
"SHOW YOURSELF MONSTER FREAK! I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL FUCK YOU, I'LL SKIN YOU AND KILL YOU! I'LL RIP YOUR FEATHERS AND THROAT OUT."
At these words Myo almost froze in the air in terror and fell back down, but managed to pull herself together at the last moment and began to flap her wings frantically again. She felt behind her a pure aura of rage and hatred and resentment as if all these feelings had been held back for a long time as if by a dam that had burst releasing everything that the mystery of the house had prevented Vernon from doing at once. Myo had no idea what 'fuck' meant but the tone in which Vernon used the word told her it was anything but a good thing.
She was about fifty metres up in the air when she heard a loud crack below. Vernon had just broken through the wall. He was armed with a large mace. His face was purple with large prominent veins on his forehead, his eyes were wild and bloodshot, his face contracted in an expression of unspeakable fury. He had whitish foam on his lips. At this sight only one word came to Myo's mind. Monster' He was no longer the often violent but mostly apathetic Vernon she knew. He had become a pure monster of hate, rage and violence. But worst of all, his eyes were strangely clear, as if a fog she'd never realised was in his eyes had lifted. As if this was the first time she was seeing Vernon. The real Vernon, completely free, without the mystery of the house forcing him to act a certain way.
Vernon was at this moment completely conscious and sane. Perhaps that was what made him a true monster. Myo flapped her wings with more strength and vigour than ever before. Behind her Vernon continued to scream. "COME BACK HERE BIRD OF DOOM! DEMON! MONSTER!" ... Myo did not hear his other words, now far too high in the sky to be within range of his voice.
Her plan had been shattered. The mystery of the house seemed to have been completely broken. Never again would Vernon let her live in the shed. She wanted to come back after a few days while the house regained its hold on Vernon, but whatever was holding him back had completely snapped. A deep feeling inside her told her with unerring firmness that things would never be the same again.
What was she going to do now? She had never been out of the house and garden. Didn't know anything about the world. She had never seen anyone else in her life except Vernon Petunia and Dudley. She had lost her winter shelter, would never have another book, however meagre her meals she was still fed and protected from the rain and wind.
But on the other hand, Myo felt free, as if the chains around her were being broken. Never again would she have to endure Vernon's violent outbursts. Never again would she have to hear Dudley's taunts and endure his empty, disturbing stares. Never again would she hear Petunia's sharp, hateful voice. Never again would she live in the constant fear and uncertainty that had always gnawed at her, never knowing what version of Petunia or Vernon she should expect. One day apathetic the next day a ball of hate. She wouldn't miss Petunia's rare moments of shameful, guilt-ridden, bitter affection. Deep down she had always known that these feelings were fake. A simple consequence of the mystery of the house on Petunia's mind.
For a long time she had not understood, but now she knew. Something in that house was manipulating them and preventing them from doing the worst to her. But now the spell was broken, and would remain so. Something inside her told her so. No need to check. The clarity in Vernon's eyes that she had seen for the very first time today was proof enough.
She flew higher and higher into the sky. The rule of not being seen was less important than running away from Vernon. Below her the house was now tiny, the shed no more than a small black square in the middle of the green garden. Vernon a tiny insignificant dot. The first drops of rain fell on her feathers. At first a few drops here and there but soon replaced by a veritable curtain of rain. The cool water slid down her feathers, wetting her hair, beating against her face. Below, the world was now shrouded in a grey veil. And Myosotis continued to soar higher and higher. It was harder to fly in the pouring rain, but her determination was stronger. Her last ties to her home and her captors washed away by the rain.
She continued to climb higher and higher. Soon she reached the clouds. She was now surrounded by a grey and white veil, a thick mist, a thick fog, where drops of water came from above her and mingled with the water droplets she hit. The winds were strong and violent, and flying became more and more difficult, but Myo continued to rise. She didn't care anymore. The sky was calling her. After a time that she could not define. Between less than an hour and an eternity she felt the mist thinning. A moment later she emerged from the cloud layer. The mist clung to her wings like a sheet before breaking and returning to the clouds below her.
Her jaw dropped in surprise as her eyes widened at what she saw. Below her was a sea of clouds, peaceful and deceptive, hiding within them the tumult of wind and rain. Above her was the vastness of the boundless sky. The sun was low on the horizon, tinting the clouds with a thousand shades of red and orange, giving her the impression that the clouds were ablaze. She continued to ascend, now far above the boundless sea of clouds. Her flames appearing without her even thinking about it, evaporating all the rainwater covering her and warming her up, making the freezing temperatures of the high altitude disappear.
It was at this moment that Myo truly understood the call of the sky. This is where she belonged, above the clouds, where the tumultuous winds of the billows could not reach her. Under the immensity of the sky, with only the moon, the stars and the sun as her companion. She let the air carry her, and faced the setting sun, flying as far away from her prison as possible, leaving behind her Dursley cottage and house. Before her lay the unknown of an uncertain future. But in that moment she had no regrets. If the Dursleys were like other humans, she couldn't live with them. Lonely bird thing she would remain, in the sky she would belong. His gentle flames embracing her reassured her that alone, for the first time in her life she would live. Towards the sun draped in flame and light this evening she flew. Feeling at peace with herself. Shelterless but without chains. Alone but without hatred. She would never regret biting into the forbidden fruit of freedom.