Starlight

The Chase

~Sheila

I dive. The curls of my hair unravel into golden whips that strike shamelessly against the midnight ink of the sky, and in half a second, he's off that balcony with a smile. From off the top floor, I manage to angle my body straight out of air resistance into the mercilessness of gravity. Any other night, any other guy, and I'm a bullet through the smoke, uncatchable.

But it's Christmas.

It's him.

Already having replicated my manoeuvre, he's less than five feet away from my fly-off sneaker shoelaces. My hands go down in needle form, piercing through whatever air is below me. The building's lights and eyes flash across us as we plummet down its glassy facade. Our deadly, little escapade goes by in breathlessness, in a free fall that's inching so close to death, I can almost realize my insanity. But when we're less than five seconds from hitting the asphalt with our faces -- when he's desperate enough to reach his hand out for  me -- that's when I unsheathe my camera to snap a shot of him.

And what a shot I get.

A kiss from death, I shoot up into the night sky with 45 degree angle that would have an Olympic gymnast crying on his knees. He does the same, a spiral of sapphire soon tearing right through my straight, yellow trail. I pout, but he doesn't care. That smile is still with him. That's what counts to me.

Before we know it, we're flying a few thousand feet above the city. At this time, cruising through the winds of a Yule-seasoned Zephyr, everything almost seems...peaceful. The city lights show off silhouettes of happy kids getting their gifts in grand fluorescence. Below us, there's a parade of the jolliest of kinds, serenading everyone around it into the spirit of the season.The starlight above us, shining in their truest beauty, almost seems to sing a hymn straight from the heart of God. The world is happy. I'm happy.

I don't feel him until his nimble hands are wrapped fully around the width of my stomach. His hot, boyish breath swims across my ear as he settles that sculpted chin of his on a shoulder that trembles on touch.

Without looking back, still fixed on the picturesque scene of a city we save each and every day in peace, I tell him, "Merry Christmas, Blitz."

His kiss is sweet. His kiss is warm. Put simply? I'm slowly dying of happiness.

"Merry Christmas, Sheila."

I don't know it yet. But beneath my arm, his picture develops, threading itself out of my polaroid and into gravity's grip...

The Race

~ Blitz

She's either waiting or totally mesmerised.

"Oh, shoot! The picture!"

Should've known.

I unlatch myself from her, zoom down towards the 4-inch wide piece of paper that's floating an ocean of space and wind. My body works a twirl against the current that tries to shove my body left. Dodging the air pocket in front of me takes a drop and a sharp angle back high up, so I let gravity take its course as I forget how to breathe...then let the lift pitch my body elegantly into the clouds. Stark against the backdrop of a centered moon, my body freezes into the picture of a screaming, adrenaline-filled cartwheel. I'm not just a boy up here.

I'm a boy who can fly.

"Yahooooooooo!"

My scream follows me all the way to a nosedive into fluff. Back beneath the breathlessness of warring winds, I ordain myself upside-down, back against the force when I spot her right behind me. She's trying to weave herself in and out of the cascades like a graceless ragdoll. The wind hits her legs like a brick, and her hair almost seems like an octopus that's trying to suffocate her. Before I know it, I'm laughing hysterically. While taking advantage of the sudden rush of air that sweeps me in a pirouette, I just can't help it. Girls that are a little helpless are always a lot cuter. Blonde Aussie like this is just all more of the same.

She's a fast learner though. The second I even think of helping her, she regains control of her legs and swallows herself into an aerial jackknife. I stare into her steadied eyes. She winks back at mine. This way we both know we're ready to ride this thing. Feet locked into our sweater-clad chests, we finally burst towards the picture as it comes close to the tittering glow of the city's lights. My face feels warm. A slice of ivory steadily makes its way across my quivering cheeks. Look close enough and you'll see that all of Zephyr is encased in a soft, cozy cocoon of radiance with naught but a small square hovering above it like a timid ghost.

But then, almost as if someone pushes the painter of the scene, yellow streaks across the from the veil of the moonlight.

Do I have enough time? Do I want to beat her in her own game? Do I really care about a petty little thing like that?

Um...Yyyyeah. Kinda do.

Electricity wells up through me like an overload. My smile hatches a mighty shout. Sapphire sprouts out of my back in a whole dual 18 feet of pure, elegant wing, and I'm off in a straight zoom for it. The extra second it takes her to do the same is just my gain.

Our wings cross and shatter in such frictionless speed. High above the city streets breaks the vapor of a million crystals that shower into Zephyr with opulent, spectral grandeur. Color, vivacity, and wonder in the finest mix. We just live to please, even on our days off.

Braking against the inertia of my speed is a lot less grand, however. Rather than soaring through the night, I come off, flaccid and shivering. Panic rides through me, my heart, my empty lungs, my mind. The winds this high up are nothing less than relentless...

... Until, there, I see, flapping in the tightest crooks of my fingers, half a picture.

"What?" I say. Suddenly, there's balance. In falling. Suddenly, I'm not staring at the starlight above me, but into something so much brighter

With a smile, she reveals other half in her teeth. Her arms and eyes simply refuse to break contact as she says. "You're not that good, hotshot."

And gravity pushes her into my kiss.

The Dance... to be written.