Featherlight (5 page)

I wanted to scream, but found I couldn’t. I was on fire, burning
alive. Just when I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, the flame receded, but
only to be replaced with a dark coolness. Eyes shut tight, I sighed in relief
and strained to think positive. I took comfort in the fact that I died before I
could be raped or tortured.

My mind woke up slowly. I could
feel
. I felt each vibration of
the ship through my body. I felt each fold of the silky cloth beneath me. I
felt a cold breeze from the ship’s cooling system. I could
hear
. Boy,
could I hear. I heard the rumble of the engine, the bubble of quiet voices.
When I opened my eyes, I could
see
. The rough ceiling stood out in
individual detail. The walls were sharp, the details breathtaking. I no longer
needed my glasses.

I sat up slowly. The shift in colors, the feel of rippling clothes,
and the sound of crinkling sheets flooded my brain. I couldn’t think straight.
Information overload. I went back down.
Deep breaths
, I told myself.

I was in heaven. The last thing that I remembered was dying, so that
was the only answer to this madness. Why did I feel so great in heaven? Could
drugs from my life on Earth bleed over into death? If so, Marie must have
drugged me when I wasn’t paying attention, which caused the burning… and the
hallucinations. I never did drugs, so I wasn’t sure of their effects, but I was
willing to bet that drugs had caused this.

Okay, so maybe my theory was a little far-fetched. If nothing else,
God wouldn’t allow drugs in heaven. So where was I and why did I feel
fever-free and amazing? I felt so strong and rejuvenated that it was almost as
if the chemo had never happened.

After regaining my senses, I tried sitting up again. This time, I
wasn’t overwhelmed, so I took a few minutes to appreciate being alive. I appreciated
the splinters on the wood dresser, the smooth threads against my legs, the
strange dampness on my neck and arms. Did I cut myself? Was I bleeding? Slowly,
I reached to feel my back.

Someone had placed a soft damp cape on me. My fingers felt it, and I
felt
myself feeling it. Maybe that was my back, and I had some strange disease.
The cape was made up of small petal-like objects. I reached around and rubbed
one between my fingers. It was soft and damp.

I tried standing, but ended up jumping to my feet because I was so
light. Maybe it was the change in gravity? Or the drugs. The world spun, and I
clutched the bed for support. My stomach, for the first time since starting
chemotherapy, growled hungrily.

Walking over to the full length mirror, I noticed that something was
different.
I
was different. I stood before my reflection, examining
myself.

Before the chemo, I cared about what I looked like. Losing my hair and
feeling the thick threat of death hang over me caused a huge internal change.

Before my hair loss, I had simply been happy looking like a normal
teenage girl. Sure, I was a few inches shorter than normal, and I had nice
facial features, but I didn’t look like
this
. This must
be a
dream.

Sighing, I noticed that my new shirt had been ripped and my bra was
torn. My once brown irises were now a light hazel, my lips were fuller,
eyebrows thicker, and I was slimmer. Which actually should have made me look
awkward, being below
average in height, and already slim, but it didn’t.
Because I had curves! Not just boobs, but
curves.
I giggled in delight.
Apparently, I grew a couple of cup sizes, and my hips had broadened out. I was
beautiful
.
Even I could see that through the layers of dirt on my skin.

The most important change of all was on my head. Magically, from what
I could tell in the mirror, my hair had grown back. Instead of a deep black, it
had lightened a few shades to a mousy brown. It had grown a few inches and now
stuck out from my head like a fuzzy duckling. Even though it wasn’t as long as
it used to be, I was completely ecstatic.

Wait! I don’t care about being beautiful, right? Why did I need beauty
to teach other women about being strong? I didn’t need beauty to accomplish my
goals. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself. Of course, as soon as I came
to terms with my hair-loss, some dream made me realize just how badly I truly wanted
my hair back.

Unable to resist, I traced my new figure and my new hair with my
hands. When I turned around to see if my backside had grown, my smile vanished.
The face in the mirror was shocked. My so-called cape should have been the
first thing I examined in the mirror, especially since it had felt odd earlier.
Not my new curves.

What I had mistaken as a cape earlier was attached to my body, and
there were not just one, but
two
. The things hung limply, connected to
my body by forming a ‘V’ on my upper back. The skin where the capes attached to
my body gradually turned to a white color.

Starting at the tops of my shoulders, they gradually lessened until
the tips of them ended at my lower back. They were frost white, and followed
the fresh curve of my back closely, as if they were made to sit there.

My newly sharpened eyes observed the small petal-like things covering
them. Feeling numb, I pulled the tip of a cape around to the front of my body
and saw that they were quite a bit larger than I had first assumed. I felt a
tingling sensation coming from the cape, as if I had nerve endings in it. That
couldn’t be right, because these things weren’t
mine.

 
I looked down at
the odd thing in my hand that had attached itself to me like a parasite. It was
made up of material that felt like a flower, soft and smooth. The petals gradually
grew smaller as they traveled down the wing, but they were no littler than my
thumbnail and no larger than my fist. Wait, did I think of this as a wing? No-
it’s a thing. A cape. Because people can’t grow wings.

They were still damp and limp, and my back felt slightly sore. I let
the tip drop from my hand to slide back into place behind my back. I turned
around and noticed that I couldn’t see any part of the capes from the front. I
turned around again. I watched the petals ripple and settle. Then back. Sway,
settle. Then around. Ripple, settle. Maybe If I did this enough it will make it
seem more real. Not that I was wishing this was real, or anything. Who needed
boobs and hair and wings?

Even though I was freaked out, I admitted to myself that a larger part
of me didn’t want this dream to end. Some part enjoyed being curvy and
gorgeous, with these oddly beautiful things on my back.
This isn’t like me,
I
thought. The real me didn’t care about vain, unimportant things. It doesn’t
make someone successful in life, right?

I would have kept staring in the mirror for who knows how long, but I
heard someone walking towards my room. Marie opened the door and gasped. “You-
you’re w-wings. They’re beautiful!” I could practically smell her surprise as
she bustled over and slowly reached out to touch my petaled ‘wings’.

I spun around, putting my body between her and my wings, and then I
glared into her eyes until she glanced down. Ha! I was better than this woman. She
gave a small yelp and scampered out, the smell of her fear fresh in the air.

 What kind of beast was I? I was stunned at the way I just treated
her. It wasn’t her fault that I was baffled and simply waiting for this perfect
dream to pop.

She did nothing wrong to you,
my mind said.

She needed to know her place
, my instincts said.

You weren’t raised to treat people like that. Every being should be
treated the same.
Back and
forth they argued. Which one was I? Mind or body? Flesh or soul?

I sat down on the bed and put my newly beautified head in my hands. I
guess I now knew this wasn’t all a dream... I was beginning to get a headache.

Focus
, I told
myself.
Instincts are unpredictable. You need to think like a human being,
not an animal.
That would have been great advice, except for the fact that
I wasn’t even sure I was human anymore. Did these things on my back make me an
animal? What did she call them? Wings.

She called them wings. Not capes at all. Maybe I was a part of some
twisted science experiment to see if humans could fly. I felt sick. Marie
reentered while I was thinking myself into a giant, bottomless hole.

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” She asked quietly.

I should have said no, but the prospect of getting all this dirt off
my skin was just too good. I nodded. Walking over to the bathtub, she turned an
assortment of knobs until water was pouring out the faucets.

 Marie then bustled over to the dresser and pulled out a pile of
clothes. She turned the water off, placed the clothes on top of the bed, and
left as quickly as she had entered. The water looked warmed and inviting, so I immediately
stripped down. At this point, I didn’t even question the fact that a bathtub
was on a plane.

What was left of my bra I ripped all the way, and then slowly slid the
rest of it off my “wings.” What do I do with them while I was bathing? Let them
sit outside the tub? It didn’t look like they were coming off anytime soon.
Maybe they were spliced to my back like two pieces of a tree and were slowly
fusing together. Marie walked in while I was considering my predicament.

Normally I was extremely modest, but right now with Marie I just
didn’t really care. Could be because of my new look, or maybe the way I treated
her earlier. She was carrying some shampoo, conditioner, and an assortment of
soaps.

“They can get wet,” she told me. I must have given her a blank look,
because she continued, “Your wings.”

“Oh.” She must think I’m a bimbo or something, thanks to my lack of
intelligent comments.

“Thank you,” I said, and she looked up. “For everything, I mean.”  She
was the only person who had truly been kind to me since I was kidnapped.

“We are just glad to have you with us,” Marie replied.

“Why?” I asked, instantly on the hunt for more information. I was
going to just be blunt. What did she mean by ‘us’?

Her eyes got larger as she spoke, giving her a deer in the headlights
look. “Because you are the last of your kind, and your kind is great.” She added
an extra emphasis on the word ‘great’ and nodded to enforce her words.

“And what are you?” I asked her.

“I’m simply common. Not like you, though. You are a folium,” She glanced
down, shy again. I heard that word earlier from the doctor.

“Would you mind?” Marie asked me while retrieving a measuring tape
from the dresser.

“Go
ahead,” I said, not seeing the harm in it.

“Arms
up, please.”

I
lifted my arms and Marie said, “35.”

Marie
measured my waist and then hips and murmured, “23 and 36. Excellent.”

“So
is that good?” I asked her, not wanting to sound vain.

“It
is indeed. You’ll have a nice man in no time!” she said with a wink.

My stomach lurched with fear, and Marie must have noticed because she exited
to leave me to my own thoughts for a while.

Before the door shut, I asked, “Marie? Is my leukemia fixed? Is it
really gone?”

“Yes, ma’am. It really is.” She smiled and clicked the door shut
behind her.

Completely numb with shock and disbelief, I eased myself into the tub.
It felt strange to
feel
things through the cape-wings, like the
temperature of the water. I now had a whole new section of nerves on my body,
and I wasn’t even used to my improved senses yet.

The cool water felt heavenly. How did she know I didn’t taking hot
baths? To my growing amazement, my arms were flawless and bruise-free. Let’s
just add more questions to the massive pile. I began to sort through all the recent
events to chart a new course of action.

Which facts that I had been told today were true, and which were they lying
about?

Fact: I was taken unwillingly from my home while my aunt just sat
there and watched. I was drugged and taken to a base on the Smokey Mountains.

Fact: I was on an airplane, and we were going
somewhere
. Since
I hadn’t looked out a window since takeoff, I couldn’t prove the fact that we
were going to another planet as the truth. We could just be going to another
country for all I know. Besides, this airplane didn’t look like a spaceship,
and I haven’t felt many bumps or sways. Surely if I were actually leaving earth
there would be some turbulence.

Fact: I had wings on my back. Either they were telling me the truth,
and I had acquired them during my “change”, or they put them on me during surgery.
If they had put them on me by surgery, then it was
very
expensive. But
that’s irrelevant. I was an unwilling lab rat, and a lot goes wrong with lab
rats. If they are telling the truth, then I was not really human; I was a fol-something.
Of course, the wings came with both of the above, so I might as well just accept
them. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a
duck. Besides, I’ll worry about methods of removal and all of the potential
negative side-effects later.