I looked up when Shawn came in the door. He was both nervous and excited. I gestured to a seat. It was child-sized and made of bright yellow plastic, and he looked uncomfortable in it.
I slid the file across the low round table to him. “First day’s always tough. You’ll be fine.”
The intercom chirped. “Your 9:00 appointment is here, Ally.”
“Send them in.” I studied my new assistant. Fresh out of school, he looked it. Close-shaven, new haircut, clothes that looked like they’d just walked out of the store. “This job is 99.9 percent boring. We test every kid on their third birthday. Most of them crap out–they’re ordinary children. It’s the .1 percent that make it all worth while.”
“I know.” He heaved a tremulous sigh. “Can’t wait to get started.”
The little girl was accompanied by her mother, Sharon Thresh. Kayla wore denim overalls and sneakers, and her brown hair bounced in a ponytail against her back. I indicated the chairs across from me–one blue, one green–and they sat. Morning sun poured through the sliding doors leading to a shallow balcony; it highlighted every worry line on Sharon’s face.
I introduced myself and Shawn. She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. “Kayla is not special. I’d have seen it by now if she was, and there’s been nothing.”
Every parent desperately wanted to believe this. Special kids were taken by the state and raised differently than other children. It was necessary, and it was the law.
I offered Kayla a lollipop. She took it, pulled off the wrapper, and put it in her mouth. A trusting kid.
I ran through the standard developmental questions, and Shawn typed her answers into the laptop. Kayla was friendly and cooperative despite Sharon’s occasional attempt to direct her responses.
At the end of the interview, like always, I showed Kayla the picture. “What do you see?”
She leaned forward. “Birds.”
“What else?”
“A person.”
“What are they doing?”
“Flying.” Her smile was huge. “It’s fun.”
I perked up. “Is it?”
Sharon wrapped her arms around Kayla. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Ignore her! Please.” A sob caught in her throat.
I paid her no attention. “Shawn, please stay with Sharon while I take Kayla out to the balcony.”
Sharon snatched Kayla from the bright blue chair and leaped to her feet. “I won’t let you take her.”
“You have no choice,” I said calmly, gesturing for Shawn to restrain her. Kayla retreated from me, suddenly unsure. I held out my hand. “Please come with me.” I took her hand and pulled. She held back, looking over her shoulder at her mom.
Moving quickly, I picked Kayla up, went out on the balcony, and threw her over the railing. We were on the sixth floor. “Fly!”
Sharon shrieked, Shawn said “Wow!” and I watched the girl plummet. She was in no danger; there was a state-of-the-art landing pad below, just in case.
Kayla spread her arms and legs, and then long feathered appendages burst from her narrow shoulders, stopping her fall. She gazed up at me calmly, smiling.
The days when I met a one percenter were the best.
____________
Word count: 536
Genre: fantasy
Read more flash fics here.
Oh, that one’s great! Not much happier than mine (for the mother anyway), but I loved it.
🙂 It was fun to write.
I love where your thoughts took you.
🙂 Thanks.
Long feathered appendages! I want some. You’ve hooked me, so now i want to see what come next.
There would be a couple questions to answer: why are some humans now born with wings? What does the state do with them?
So many stories, so little time. 🙂
I do so adore your writing. Great story, but it’s the writing itself that draws me in every time. ❤ You are the only one I know that can describe every detail of every person in the room, and the room itself, and the setting, without boring me to death.
Great compliment! Thanks.
I read it to my hubby. After every sentence or two I stopped, “Can you picture those low, round little kids’ tables and molded plastic chairs?” “Now you know what the mom looks like and what the kid looks like and what the room looks like, right?” And it was all part of the storytelling. You amaze me. You’re better at that than anyone I know. I’ve always HATED description in stories because I feel like the author has stopped the story to describe the scene or the characters to me. It’s annoying as heck. You somehow weave it into the story itself and the scene just comes to life gradually.
For instance, you described the balcony before it was even part of the story – you were actually talking about the sun and Sharon’s worried features. But my brain added the balcony to the scene, so when the time came, you didn’t have to stop the drama to tell me there was a balcony there. Amazing.
Thanks! Question: what was the color of the chair Ally was sitting in? I didn’t tell you but an alert reader will know.
🙂 I’ve tried to explain that to a few authors. You don’t just give a laundry list of clothes someone wears or furniture in a room. You weave it into the story. Nicely put, Jaycee.
I’m assuming it would have to be red.
Correct. 🙂
Unless the chairs got all mixed up from other tables in the room. ;o)
I love these short stories you do, so intense in such short bursts – brilliant once again!
🙂 Glad you enjoyed it!
Ooh, love it! We all went fairly dark this week.
We all tend to be doing that lately. Hm, something about the time of year? Halloween, DST, heading into winter….
Well, as a parent we want our kids to be “special” but you scared the bejesus out of me with that story…….I don’t want to live there! Although I love the whole wing idea😊
Great story!
🙂
As always Fen, a great excerpt from what would make a wonderful, longer story.
If only I had the time, eh? 🙂
This is great, You had me wondering and the build-up was tense. I love it!
Yay! 🙂