With a shriek the sorceress fell into the pit. Snarling and blindly savaging, the grindlebeasts fell on her. The clan turned away in horror. The father stood from where he had fallen. He embraced his daughter as she stood on the edge of the pit half horrified at what she had just done. What had to be done.
"There isn't much time." He pulled her away from the edge. " We must get to the cliffs before the transformation is complete." As one, the clan turned for the mountains.

The feeling of being human began to ebb. He turned to see her brush away a furtive tear.
"Don't cry for me" he said. "I've caused you nothing but trouble. I'll never be able to repay you for what you have done."
"I would do it again. Sometimes I forget that you were not born a man. " She broke off, ashamed. "I sometimes wished we wouldn't find her."
He reached out a hand, even now losing form. Gently tipping her face up, he leaned down for one last kiss. "Somewhere in here," he whispered hoarsely pulling her hand to his chest, " so did I."
She turned her back as he removed the tunic she made him that first chilly night. It wasn't really necessary for modesty's sake, just for her heart's. Clutching the garment to her breast, she watched as he climbed the cliffs to a jutting ledge just above the group of people whom he had grown to love. Their journey had been difficult, dangerous, and suddenly too short. How does one say good-bye to someone you love as no other, even over your own desire to keep him with you.
The father stepped forward. She turned to him for comfort. "He doesn't belong to us, daughter."
"I know. It's for the best." Bravely she wiped her tears and stood tall and proud as her father joined him on the ledge.
"I'll pray you will find your family." the father said as he watched feathers grow.
"I will. Most managed to flee the mountains when the transformations started. They will return as the word spreads. You did a wonderful thing ridding the land of the evil one. My people will never forget you."
"And we will never forget you."
"Your shoes!" She cried, darting forward. In the emotion of the moment, they had forgotten to remove the human footwear. Claws were sprouting through the leather. Kneeling, she pulled his feet free. She set them off to the side, folding the sock neatly on top. With a cry, she ran down to the others, unable to face another good-bye. The father placed his hand on a changing shoulder. Words passed unsaid, then he was left alone. He gazed down on the family that had taken him in. Should he stay? Was it too late? A mounting panic shot through him. Was he doing the right thing? As he worried, a rising air current passed by.

He knew the time had come. Now that she was gone, nothing held him in this bare, cold city. He had lived in its cold embrace for too long. His body felt stiff, awkward as he climbed the stairs toward the roof. The moldering sheath he carried bumped against him rhythmically as he labored higher. He concentrated on the task, using it as an excuse to avoid thinking of her. It was a futile exercise; with each step, memories washed over him.

It was spring time, and he was sitting in the park studying the pigeons. He focused on the pattern of their feathers, and on the tiny motions they made in flight. He was sure that, if he concentrated hard enough, they would share their secrets with him. They had to. He was intently watching a fat gray pigeon waddle across the cold concrete when he became aware of the shadow. It stretched out next to his own, reaching toward the pigeon. Suddenly, the pigeons took flight, mocking his study as they gracefully flew away. The shadow gave a playful laugh, a sound reminiscent of a freshly melted brook. “I love to see the pigeons fly. When I watch them, I’m free, if only for a second.” And he loved her before he saw her face.

Now it was autumn, and leaves blew gently across the barren ground. He sketched the wing structure of a pale bird, attempting to capture its fragility and strength. The shadow was different now. Instead of standing, it sat next to him on the bench, merging with his. A baby’s soft cry broke the silence and the startled pigeons scattered, fleeing on the autumn breeze. And again he heard the laugh, “Your son longs for the freedom as much as you do.”

The harsh winter sun shone through the apartment window, but it lacked warmth. He looked at the shadows on the wall. His outline was dark, solid, but the other shadow was thin and faded. A pigeon landed on the ledge, claiming it as his own. His eyes rested on it, but he didn’t see it. A sharp cough from the bed alarmed the bird and it was quickly out of sight. The shadow spoke, softly and wistfully, “Soon I, too, will be free to fly like that.”

He opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped onto the roof. The sun struck his back, casting his shadow before him. It was dark, solid - and alone. He carefully lowered his burden to the roof, again using the motion to drive back the memories. He contemplated the sheath. It looked too small to encapsulate a lifetime of study. He slowly removed the apparatus. Thousands of gray feathers shimmered in the late afternoon sun. He strapped the wings to his back and moved toward the ledge. For the first time, he felt a twinge of uneasiness. His shadow stretched before him, distorted by folded wings. He carefully stepped onto the ledge.

“I understand the theory. I just don’t happen to agree with it,” Icarus said. “You say that it takes as much time, effort and money to make a big change as it does to make a little one. Fine, I accept that. But it seems to me that it also increases the risk to me when you do that. That’s the part I don’t like.”

Mr. Minos appeared to think for a moment before he answered. “With the increased risk comes a chance for greater glory, and isn’t that what you’re here for?” He held Icarus’ gaze until the younger man dropped his eyes away. Mr. Minos never lost at anything.

“Not greater glory, not really.” Icarus said. “I just want to be free to live my own life again. I want out and that’s the deal. If we succeed then I get out. Right?” He didn’t look Mr. Minos in the eyes, but he didn’t look down either. He knew how the game was played with Mr. Minos. He hoped he knew.

“You’re the best candidate we’ve got, Icarus, I don’t mind telling you that,” Mr. Minos said. “But we’ve never installed wings onto a human before so this is a risky business. You can have your record cleared, yes, but if we succeed today I can’t say that I’m just going to set you free right away. This is a process, not an event, you understand.”

Icarus looked out over the Nevada desert. The long drive in the darkened truck had left him unprepared for the stifling heat, the intense light, and the panoramic beauty. “I’m feeling overwhelmed,” he said. “I’ve been inside for so long, and I’m nervous about the test flight.” He stared off into the distance and thought about his wife, his children, his friends. He hadn’t seen any of them for over five years. Would any of them remember him after all this time, he wondered?

Mr. Minos watched him carefully and waited before he spoke again. “You will see them all again if we’re successful,” he said. “I just don’t want to deceive you into thinking that if all goes well today you’ll be back home tomorrow. Soon, perhaps, but not tomorrow.”

That’s when Icarus knew that they were never going to let him go. He would die here today if they failed, or he would be kept as a specimen to be observed, examined and tested. But he would never be allowed to go back to his life. He would never see those he loved again if he complied with Mr. Minos’ demands.

“I think we should just get on with it,” Icarus said, a little too loudly. “My nerves are going to get the best of me, otherwise.” He moved to the edge of the cliff.

Mr. Minos stood beside him. “You’ve done this a thousand times in the simulator. Just let your body take control and you’ll do fine,” he said.

“I’ll do my best, Mr. Minos. Just trust me.”

“Room service.”

Albert stood up, slightly alarmed. “You can’t but I can.” he whispered to himself as he opened the door.

“Good evening, sir.”

Albert peered at the man, squinting, as if giving him some sort of mental test. After an awkward moment he opened his eyes wide and shouted, “I don’t believe in you!” He paused to process his thoughts, then leaned in closer. “But I believe in bigger things. I have dreams…I believe in them…”

He slammed the door and happily galloped back to the bed, pausing only momentarily to clap and laugh about the encounter.

His countenance fell as he looked down at his hospital robe. He’d worn nothing but variations of the same robe for over three years now - since being admitted.

He had decided that morning that he would be confined no longer. He left the Institution and wandered the suburbs until he happened upon a hotel. He snuck into the room - now his room - as the tenant was leaving.

His lip quivered and he clenched his teeth as he pulled the robe off. “No more. No, no more.”

He stood naked by the balcony, shoes and socks in hand.

For a moment he was calm – almost sedated by the breeze. He felt free.

But he could feel the tension beginning to come on, creeping through his body and finally overtaking him. “I did, I can, and I will…” he spoke in a low, monotone voice.

He closed his eyes and sighed as the breeze won him over again.

“This is it. My time. I have everything, and I can. I can.” A smile canvassed his face as he slowly stepped out onto the balcony.

Carefully, he climbed onto the ledge, staying low. His body began to tense with fear as he studied the ground. He closed his eyes again, concentrating...fighting the anxiety.

Shunning the sanity, he let go of his shoes and slowly rose, now smiling again.

A small crowd was forming below. Albert could see them pointing and talking to one another.

The scream shattered his consciousness. It was a woman, terrified; he had to find her and help her. She screamed again, but this time he could place it, by his feet. She must be over the edge of the cliff!

He looked over the edge and saw her, desperately clinging to a small outcrop of stone. He threw himself down on his stomach and reached his arm down to her. "It's alright, I'm here to help." He looked down at her beautiful, tear-stained, fear-filled face. "Just reach up to me."

"John. I was afraid you wouldn't come."

He felt a shock of confusion. "How do you know my name? We don't know each other."

"I know you, John. I know your heart. I was so afraid to be alone. But now, I know that you will follow me." As she spoke, her face lost its fear and even the tearstains faded.

John tried to stretch his arm out further, "I don't understand. Let me help you."

"There's only one way to help me." She deliberately let go of her handhold.

"No!" John yelled in frustration and anguish.

Somehow, as she fell, her soft whisper floated up to him, "Come with me."

With a jerk, John woke up. It had only been a dream...

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

"John, buddy, what's going on?"

"Huh?" John looked bleary-eyed at his co-worker.

"Seriously, bud, you've been looking like a zombie for weeks now. It's me, Mike. You can tell me what's been happening."

"Dreams."

"What?"

"I've been having these...dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Well...there's this absolutely gorgeous woman, and I've never seen her before..."

"Ah," Mike nodded knowingly. "One of those dreams." This last was said with a leer.

"No. It's...well, when they started, she was in trouble. Falling off of a cliff. When I go to help her, she lets go."

"Eh...that's rough."

"But, as she falls, she asks me to join her, to come with her."

"Off the edge of a cliff?"

"Yes. More recently, I've been getting there earlier and earlier. We talk on the edge of the cliff, and I think I know where it is. She tells me how important my time here has been--"

"Your time here?"

"--but that it's time to move on and join her."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. This sounds weird John, really weird."

"I know."

"Maybe...maybe you ought to talk to someone about this."

"I'm talking to you."

"I mean maybe you should talk to a shrink."

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

John looked around at the area he had only seen in his dreams. "Well, I'm here."

He heard the voice that had become so familiar to him whisper, "Hello John."

"What now?" he asked shakily.

The breathy voice responded, "It is time to say good-bye to this place. Love it, love its people. But it is time to leave it."

The cavern was vast.

Shadows danced across the walls, flittering and jittering in twisted shapes backlighted by dancing flames of unknown origin. The temperature was a cosy 444 degrees Celsius – just hot enough to melt sulfur without getting too much into the gasphase to clog up the sinuses.

There was a rustling of wings being folded and a scraping of hooves as a horde of horned, thick-scaled denizens of the Nether Regions took their seats.

“I, Majox the inutterably archevilness call this 314159265th meeting of Angels Anonymous to order!“ boomed an old archfiend whose features seemed to have been carved from the eternal rock itself.

“Brothers and sister...”

He was interrupted by snorting and suppressed laughter from the assembled fiends.

Mo’hbb threw up her talons in disgust and hissed.

“What’s this brother and sister crap, Majox? Everyone knows that angels are androgynous!”

“Silence!” bellowed Majox, and little flames spurted from his nose.

“That’s why I said brothers and sisters!”

He settled back down.
“Now... we will hear the testimony of Pokos.”

A furtive demon stood up, clearly embarrassed to be presenting himself so openly to his fellow fiends.

“Hi, uhm... I am Pokos,” he hesitated briefly, “and I am a fallen angel.”

“Hello, Pokos,” came the echo from the assembled demons.
Pokos jerked involuntarily, and continued in a squeaky, insecure voice.

“I’ve been trying to mend my ways, you know, try to redeem myself. Ever since that day we were all kicked out of Heaven I’ve really tried and tried – but it’s so hard to be good!”

“That’s okay,” said Lev’che’ead, “we know how you feel.”

“I mean, everything is looking good and then – bam! I steer someone from the path of righteousness, I tempt them, I make them doubt!”

He rustled his wings sadly.
“Only yesterday I coded another set of peer-to-peer MP3 sharing tools!”

There was a commotion amongst the assemblage.
“Yessss?” hissed Majox in a dangerous tone of voice.

Xitor’ng’everci held up a tattered, leather-bound tome with a shaky hand.

“Actually, your very extremely honorable lordship, that’s not on the list of sins anymore.”

“Oh,” grumbled Majox with a raised eyebrow, “splendid. Pokos, continue.”

Pokos stuttered.
“Oh, well, great, hm? Anyway, I really think that if I set my mind to it and work really, really hard at redeeming myself in the eyes of you-know-who, the maybe there is a chance! I mean, there’s still one thing we have, right? Even after falling so low, right?”

There was an expectant silence. Pokos looked around desperately.

“You know... hope?”

In the silence that followed, one could have heard a pin drop (on the head of which an undefined number of angels could dance).

“Buahahaha!”

Amidst the ensuing raucous laughter, Pokos dejectedly folded his wings and slunk out of the great hall.

“Hey Toby, look at that freak,” Kenny whispered.

The kid that Kenny was pointing at was probably no more than eight or nine. He was sitting on the curb, drawing on the street with a piece of chalk; childish doodles very similar to one’s that Toby had drawn himself many times: Smiley faces, cartoon characters, random designs of his name (which apparently was Bruce). The scene could have been from a modern-day Norman Rockwell except for the blue-tinted scales that covered Bruce’s skin.

“Let’s have a little fun with him,” Kenny prodded.

“Nah.” Toby started drifting to the other side of the street. “I don’t feel like it right now.”

“Sure you do. “ Kenny picked up a rock from the road and flung it perfectly. It skidded right across one of the more artisticly-flaired ‘Bruce’s, causing the chalk to smear just enough to be hard to fix. “Awww, look. ‘Bruce’ is all messed up!”

Kenny cracked himself up. Toby just looked embarrassed. Bruce never flinched.

“What’s wrong, S-s-s-s-scaly? You got a forked tongue too?” Once Kenny got started, he was hard to stop.

“Let’s go,” Toby said. “He’s not gonna let you bother him and he’s not hurting anybody.”

Kenny didn’t even hear him. He grabbed Toby’s sleeve and started walking towards the kid, dragging Toby every step of the way. He finally stopped, his shadow lying right across Bruce’s art work.

“Did they have to spank you like a normal kid when you were born or did they just pull the egg shell pieces off of you?” Kenny was on a roll. Toby could see that it wasn’t going to get better and he turned and started to walk away.

Now Kenny had two targets. “You a freaking mutant lover, Toby?” Kenny kept his eyes on Bruce, but hurled his insults at Toby. “Does the sight of scales turn you on?”

Toby stopped in his tracks. “Leave him alone,” he whispered. “He didn’t choose this and neither did his parents. He’s got just as much right to be considered normal as you do, although that’s not saying much.” His voice started to pick up towards the end, but he still looked down at his feet as he kicked around some small pebbles.

Now Kenny turned. “Dang, you’re a freak too… having sympathy for a creature like that.” He pointed towards Bruce. “What’s wrong with you?”

Toby turned. Bruce was looking up now. His yellow, slitted eyes were starting to tear up.

“Nothing. I’m leaving.” Toby started to walk away hoping that Kenny would come with him. Suddenly, he knew Kenny was coming with him, or more directly, at him. He spun and with a force that could have been fueled with adrenaline, threw a punch that sent Kenny flying over Bruce.

Kenny lay in the yard behind Bruce, unmoving.

Toby began to run. He ran all the way down the street, through a yard and into the woods beyond. He kept running until he had topped small ridge.

Sarah kept careful watch over the man across the crowded room. She slowly made her way through the tangled mass of darkly clothed people, their sadness not her concern, until finally she was by his side.

Quiet tears overtook her as she stood before the polished mahogany coffin. Within laid the charred remains of her sister-in-law and two nieces. The casket was kept closed, for obvious reasons. Sarah would rather remember them as they were when she saw them last, a mere four days ago.

Tim’s wife, Carrie, so exuberant and always laughing, had stopped over on her way home from shopping, having bought Sarah the cutest purse as a thank you for baby-sitting the girls the night before.

The twins, Annie and Allie, were passed out in their car seats, chubby cheeks moved rhythmically while they sucked on pacifiers during peaceful slumber. Sarah peeked in the window and smiled at the cherubs she so adored.

Then it was a quick hug from Carrie, a laugh, a wave and they were gone.

The police report said the oil tanker ran the red light at speeds of fifty miles a hour. Carrie’s Explorer was instantly engulfed in a massive fireball, and there was no way anyone one would have ever survived. All that remained of Tim’s little family easily fit in the coffin beneath his fingertips.

Everyone’s concern now was on Tim, who, when hearing the news, had to be sedated for fear of him hurting himself in his anguish. He spoke not a single word after coming out of his drug induced sleep. But he was aware of what was going on, what had happened, and only communicated in nods, or tears. Everyone wondered what thoughts went through a man’s mind who had just lost everything that mattered to him.

Sarah covered Tim’s hand with her own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Tim, oh God, Tim…I am so, so sorry sweetie. Listen, don’t worry about the rest of this stuff. I will take care of everything, ok? “

Still getting no response, she queried, “Want me to drive you home now?”

He looked up finally, and whispered. “I think I’ll walk.”

He then turned, and walked away from his life, his heart now mere ashes and bones within a wooden box. Mourners parted for him to pass, trying to comfort him, but he saw no one, heard no one.

All that mattered to him now was saying good-bye to his family in his own way and he thought of no better place than Lawson Creek Bridge. It was where he proposed to Carrie a dozen years ago, and where she would show him the ultrasounds, again and again, of their medical miracle babies. They talked there, dreamed there, it was their special spot. Yes, he thought, perfect. His decision made, he walked onward, his zombie like steps becoming more purposeful, his heart beat wildly though feeling a little lighter.

For the first time since his life lost meaning, he smiled.

George Bailey was safe at home, surrounded by his family and friends. There was more than enough money already and it kept pouring in. It was Bedford Falls’ finest hour. The sound of the little bell on the Bailey’s Christmas tree carried farther than anyone in that happy place could imagine.

Clarence was alone. He was nervous and he was freezing. He sat far outside of town on a bluff in the dark. He was talking out loud, sometimes to himself and sometimes to Him. Mostly to himself. Clarence had been talking to himself for quite some time, so he was comfortable with it.

“I’ve waited so long for this and now I don’t know what to do. Why don’t they tell you how this works before you get your wings? If you’ve never had wings you don’t know how they work, do you?” he said. The answers to his questions always came to him in his head. “But this is terrifying! I don’t know why it is, but it’s terrifying. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like I’m going to die, now, is it?”

He sat on the edge of the bluff and looked off into the distance, thinking about how it had all come to pass. There was a deep, profound sense of satisfaction in the work of an angel. And now he was official. He was a full-fledged angel. It really was thrilling. There was no end to the number of good people who need help from time to time, so there would never be any shortage of work.

“Still, I can’t believe that this is what I’ll be doing from now on. There must be more. Perhaps the better you do you the higher you go. How else would Gabriel get his job?” The sense of immortality, freedom, and responsibility were an unbeatable combination. There seemed to be no limit to what he could experience in the future. It really was overwhelming. “I guess the thing to do is work on one thing at a time. After all, I really have got forever.”

Clarence lay his overcoat down on the ground. He took off his shoes and socks and stripped down to his nightshirt. He carefully folded his clothes and laid them on the coat. He was nervous but he was ready. How long had he waited for this moment? It seemed like centuries.

„May I help you, sir?“

Kenneth tore his eyes away from the wing he had been absentmindedly stroking. With difficulty he focused on the diminutive stature of the sales person that had crept up to him.

“Um...sorry?”

With a minimal effort, the sales person pasted an insincere smile onto his face.

“Ah, yes. The first set of wings. Always something special.”

He fingered the set of wings on display, which were approximately twice his height.

“This is actually last year’s model. Quite a bit of power for the wingspan-to-weight ratio. Look at this workmanship along the seams! Perfect overlapping of the primaries and the secondaries!“

The sales attendant noticed the puzzled look of his customer.

„Sorry, I forgot that this will be your first set of wings. You see right here,“ he pointed at the lower, outer part of the wing, „these are the primaries - that’s the main flight feathers. The secondaries are these smaller flight feathers on the upper part of the wings, right above the primaries.”

Kenneth caressed the transition line with a faraway look in his eyes.

The sales attendant smirked inadvertently. This was going to be an easy sale.

“We can get them grafted onto your shoulders under local anesthetic in a simple one hour operation. At the same time we would boost the shoulder and lower back musculature to accommodate the increased strain and power demands. Within a week or two you could start basic flight training.”

He paced around Kenneth’s back, prodding at muscles and using a grey simfit-tool to take measurements.

“So, what color do you want?”

“Pardon?”
Kenneth was jolted out of his reverie.

“What color do you want? They don’t have to be just plain white, you know. Also a bit of a problem keeping them looking spiffy-clean.”

The sales person slowly rocked forward and backwards on the balls of his feet.

“We’ve got maroon, aquamarine and steelblue on stock also. For a small additional charge we can also get you gradients, starting at the scapulars (that’s the feathers on the shoulder right here) and then spreading either horizontally or vertically.”

The phony smiled appeared once again.
“So how about it?”

“Um... I think I would prefer white.”

“Excellent choice!”

The sales attendant pumped his hand enthusiastically, then reached into a pocket to produce a calculator, a small calendar and an order book.
“Okay, let’s talk actual costs.”