i'm learning to fly, but i ain't got wings {goldie}

[solo]

SIMON CRESSWELL

Today, I am a pilot.

It's fitting I suppose, considering the goggles I wear are really meant to be worn by a pilot. I've re-purposed them, being the creative genius that I am, but when I first came home with them I was told by Ma and Pa that they were for a pilot. I'm not sure why we still have them, or at least, why we have them in District Three. They're aren't any pilots here. Not as far as I know anyway. The only pilots I've ever heard of are the ones in the Capitol, and the ones in the hovercrafts that take away the dead children. Ma doesn't like it when Anna and I see those kinds of planes. But she can't really do anything about it, so I know what they're used for.

Anyway, I've spent all of yesterday and this afternoon working on my plane. It's quite good, I think, with paper wings and sticks glued together for support. It sort of reminds me of a bat. I don't think I've ever seen a real bat, but I've seen them in books, and I have a vague idea of what they look like. If I ever saw one, I imagine it would be a little something like my plane.

Ma and Pa are still at work, Anna is in the kitchen doing who-knows-what, so I grab my plane and slip out the door without interruption. Pa's taken his shoes to work, which means I have to wear my own unfortunately. Everything else is in place though. Goggles pulled down to keep me safe, jacket pulled up to my neck, bright blue scarf thrown across my shoulder. It's a bit warm out for a scarf I suppose, but I don't really like going outside without it. It just feels too weird.

I have to get up somewhere high if I want my plane to work, so I head down the street, an idea in mind. Usually I'd get Anna to do something like this. She's lighter than me, and she can stand on the thinner branches. But she's hurt her head recently and I don't think Ma would like it if she knew she'd been climbing.

Everyone seems to still be at work, because I'm not stopped as I make my way down the road. There's this really big old tree at the other end. I've climbed it a couple times before, and it's always the perfect spot to launch my planes and rockets and stuff. It only takes me a couple minutes to get there. When I do, I pause, about a foot away from the trunk, craning my neck to see where the top is. It's difficult to tell, but I know the tree must always be a different size, usually taller than the last time I went. I thought maybe I could mark it's height on the trunk, but that hasn't worked out so well.

I nod my head once, firmly. It's most definitely taller.

I stick the plane under my arm, holding it tight to my side, and jump to reach the first branch. I pull myself up with a bit of effort, and then it's easy peasy from there. One after the other, branches disappear beneath me, higher and higher and higher until I'm too scared to look down. Of course, I wouldn't tell anyone that. Good thing I'm the only one here.

Something creaks beneath me, and I stop, deciding that this is far enough. I can't help wishing I'd brought Anna. She could've climbed higher than me, and we might get better results from the plane. AH, well. Maybe next time.

I scoot forward on the branch, get a good grip on the plane.

"One, two..." I pause and suck in a deep breath, "three!"

My plane launches forward, and to my surprise, a sudden wind shakes the tree branches and picks up my plane, rocketing it forward and upward. I laugh gleefully, grinning from ear to ear as it goes up, up and up. Then the wind stops. My plane goes into a nose dive, and without warning, disappears behind the house across the street. A groan escapes my throat.

With a sigh, I make my way down the tree, branch by branch, careful not to look down more than I have to. My feet hit the ground, and I hurry up to the front door of the house. This is no good. I can't conduct an experiment if I lose all the materials in the process.

I tap on the door with a fist, then peek around in one of the windows.

"Hello?" I call, wringing my hands together. "Anybody home? I'm real sorry to bother you, but I seem to have lost my plane in your backyard."

[goldiefc8]

Vivio eridanus

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"...I'm home..."

I throw my bag down by the door hapzardedly before kicking it to the side so my way was clear to walk. I carefully take off my shoes and place them side by side, contrasting how I treated my poor abused little bag. Ma and Pa were probably working late again, although it might as well not be classified as late anymore since this is basically their normal schudele now. Oh well, boo hoo.

Let's see, the only thing I really have to get done today is some extra schoolwork, so all in all not much to do. I think Ma had said we still had some food left so I thankfully could make supper without having to go get anything. God last time I had to go the market there was a bunch of awful upperclassmen hanging out there and being their brain-dead, vain selves and harassing the younger kids there. The only thing they will ever amount to is being electrocution dummies for the factories.

I drag myself out of my own runaway train of thought and begin walking upstairs. I'll probably just have supper later, but now I have things to do. I open up the creaky door to the door and enter my own sanctuary. Books in piles are scatter around the room according to where I last read them and my desk to the side of my room against the wall received most of the book distribution.

I walk over to the corner of my room where a basket sits full of tubes and I pull out a long rolled up paper tube and unfetter it, battling against the curve of the paper. I remember working on this project awhile ago just for fiddling's sake but it never got anywhere. I have alot of time on my hands so I might as well pick it back up again. It just got buried in all of the other 'inventions' I worked with.

Really, it was dumb to call them inventions. That implies that they actually got somewhere and did something useful. I just liked fiddling around with stuff. Pa brought back alot of scraps from the factory, really interesting stuff. That's the kind of 'inventing' I like to do, not going out of my way to make special things with special parts, but working with those pieces which have been long abandoned and thought not worth anything.

I take the long piece of paper and look at the sketch on it and I go to grab some pieces of scraps from one of the drawers on my shelves. Spite how many times Ma says my room is a mess, I manage to pull out a nice organized chaos system. From about five drawers on this shelf I pull out about four pieces each and suddenly my arms are filled to the brim with pieces. With the paper tube situated in my crux of my elbow I struggle to walk over to my desk without falling over all the stacks of books scattered around the floor. I think I knocked one or too over in the process but I managed to arrive safely at my desk. 

I drop all the pieces down on my desk with a big clunking sound before I start throwing some books that were on my desk to the ground to make room for my tinkering. Now filled with thought and passion for this little project I rush over across my room to grab some other tools I had. All of them were in different scatter places but I managed to find them before too long. I put them all down at the desk and turn my desk light on, ready to work with possible modifications and ideas running through my head.

I am just about to take my seat when I am rudely thrown out of my creative process.

Knock Knock

What possible reason would anyone come here now? There's no way Ma or Pa could be home yet and this isn't really the season for when salesmen come and go from house to house. I very begrudgingly turn off my desk light and walk downstairs, dragging myself downwards in a very teenage fashion.

"C-Coming! What is it?" 

I shout as I almost trip on the last steps of stairs. Before I even fully make it down I manage to see the person at the door peeking through my window. It was a young boy? I think he might have been from across the street or something? What could he want here?

I open the door and look at the boy while he speaks. His flight goggles are the first thing that catch my interest, you never really see those things anymore, especially not here where there are almost no pilots. Before I loose myself in a thought tangent about pilots from the old days and the nature of flight I pull myself back into the present. 

"Plane...? Oh, like a toy?" I tilt my head in confusion at first but of course I know it can't be an actual old-styled plane. Still though, I can't think of any children who play with toy planes. It's all rather odd I suppose.

Made by Capt. Meows @ Delusional

[/quote]

[solo]

SIMON CRESSWELL

There's some sort of muffled shouting coming from within the house, probably someone coming to answer the door. I shuffle back to the front step, feet together, shoulders back, hands clasped behind me. I catch a glimpse of myself in the front window and realize my goggles are crooked, but it's too late now. Ma always taught be to stand up straight. She said it was polite, or something along those lines.

The door opens, and a girl peers down at me, mostly distracted by the pilot's gear I'm wearing. Of course she is. It's not every day a pilot comes to Three, so I can only assume anyone would be a little surprised to see one standing at their front door.

"Plane...?" she tilts her head, and I can't help thinking of the grey hairy cat we've named Bartholemew. Sometimes it'll sit on Anna's lap and she'll talk to it non-stop, and more often than not it'll give her the same look of confusion. But I don't like thinking of myself as a cat. I'm a pilot, after all.

"Oh, like a toy?"

My cheeks flush suddenly. My face twists, horrified by the very thought, and I quickly shake my head.

"A toy? Don't be ridiculous."

Without asking, I duck under the girl's arm, straight into the house, marching my way through to the back door. I don't know my way around, but back doors are fairly simple to find.

"I'm a fully certificated, legible pilot and of course my plane is not a toy."

Ah, there it is. I swing the door open and hop outside, scanning the little yard for my aircraft. I catch sight of it after a moment and then make my way towards it. When I arrive at the crash sight, a sigh escapes me, and I reach up to scratch my head, circling the little plane.

"This isn't any good, no no no, certainly not." I place my hands on my knees and bend down so my face is closer to my latest invention. The wing is torn, wooden rods cracked and sticking out here and there. "Good thing there weren't any passengers on board."

Quickly, I turn on my heel, now searching for the girl who answered the door. "Excuse me miss-is! I need some glue, if you don't mind."