Made to fly

As I waddle across the white landscape, I hear the snow crush beneath my feet. I look up to my destination, a mountain with a steep side. A cliff if you will.

Ever since I hatched from my egg, I always knew I was different. That I lived for more than life on the snowy landscapes.

I look up and see birds circling the area above me. I have watched closely to see how and when they learn to fly. From what I saw, they simply take a leap of faith, and hope their wings are ready for the air.

But I don't have to hope. I know that my wings are ready. I'm ready.

I get to the top of the cliff and look down to the snow below. Then up at the sky and the birds. It's like the sky is calling me. Waiting for me to come to it.

This feeling has always been there. But it's stronger this time.

I back away from the edge. I start running. My wings are spread. I feel the wind brushing past. I start flapping my wings. Faster and faster. Until I get to the edge. Then, I fly.

But, something doesn't seem right. Instead of being like the other birds, and feeling free, I still feel bound to the ground, something dragging me down. I soon realise that I'm falling, falling fast. I take a longing look behind me, at the sky and other birds.

I think some of them are laughing. I try to look down in embarrassment, but as I look the world turns pitch black. Mabye I should have stayed with the other pengins.

Mabye I wasn't made to fly.