Where Fantasies EndA Story by Jane DThe plane landed near my right foot, its nose digging deep into the wet mud. Splotches of dirt bespeckled its wings, but otherwise it looked the same as when my father threw it at me. My mother had hollered from inside about how he was a useless pizza-crepe (or something along those lines) and he went in soon after, his eyes downcast and disturbed. I was left alone, but I was too accustomed to the feeling to mind. The plane was my company. It was my friend. The crowd began to cheer. Their fists pumped the air; their lips mouthed her name. She smiled in pride. Private Blaire - the youngest female pilot to ever undergo a rescue mission on her own. The girl looked down at her own body and saw the navy uniform that draped every part of her arms and legs. They were a tad bit big, but they brought warmth in the middle of the harsh winter. The hat was slipping, and the tip began to cover her eyes. She heard loud footsteps and hastily pushed it back up, just in time for her to catch sight of the commander and raise a sloppy salute. “Private Blaire, the plane is ready and at your disposal. I trust you know what to do?” the sergeant barked. “Yes, sergeant,” She answered, her eyes trying their best to stare straight ahead. The child was hers to save. Into the cockpit she went, her heart thumping in her chest, her blood racing in her veins. She was praised, she was admired, she was powerful. The controllers were warm to the touch, and they hummed in excitement as she turned the engines on. A dot began to blink on her screen - her mission. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her body, and the sense of exhilaration overcoming the fear that had slithered its way into her heart. The nose penetrated the thick clouds, and instantly a blinding ray of light shone on her face. The heat tickled her pores, and purpose guided her fingers as the plane glided across the bright sky. It didn’t stay that way for too long, though. Soon enough, the clouds transformed into dark, writhing creatures with talons that reached out to capture the plane. She swerved left and right, but then felt a huge blast from behind. The plane swirled hectically, the back end moving up in the sky while the front faced downwards. She looked out the window and saw an enemy fighter plane zooming past her, and she just knew that it was looking for the same child. She pulled on the controllers with every ounce of strength she had. She could feel her arms becoming wearier and wearier, and her bottom beginning to slip ever so slightly across the pilot seat as her grip became more sweaty… But at last, the plane righted itself. The hit cost her a huge chunk of the left wing, but it still functioned well enough. She sped across the darkened firmament, following the blinking dot. It began to rain heavily. Drops splattered across her windows, and the sky turned bright with frequent blasts of light. She couldn’t hear the frightened beating of her heart over the roar of the torrent, and somehow that calmed her. The distance was decreasing, but the fact that the other plane still wasn’t in sight troubled her. She pushed her plane to its maximum speed, and after a while she finally descried a black tail. A smile found its way across her lips as she followed it. She, the youngest female pilot, managed to escape death once, and continued to chase it. The other pilot must be quaking in his cockpit! She will destroy him, she will destroy the enemy… “Aurora!” a yell came from the skies, sounding louder than even the rain. “Aurora, get inside, you insolent child!” my mother screamed. The skies cleared and the planes - both mine and his - disappeared. All that was left was the scummy piece of paper in my right hand. I could feel the miniscule droplets forming on my eyelids as the last of the fantasy faded, as the sound of gunfire and thunder became berations, as the sense of purpose boiled down into childish shame. Private Blaire was the accomplished pilot, but Aurora was just a regular ten-year-old sitting on the grass of her backyard. I trudged back into the house in despair. Not even my mother’s fussing about my grimy dress managed to break the bubble of gloom that surrounded me. My father, hearing the chatter, peeked at me from where he sat in the living room. I walked over to him and sunk into the couch. He could see the fragments of my torn dream, and reached out to take the plane from my hands. “Aurora, you’ll be a pilot someday, and I’ll be cheering for you from the sidelines,” he said quietly. He turned to smile at me before throwing the plane to the glass window. I watched it glide in elegance, watched it curve in accordance to the wind, watched it reach its destination… Private Blaire released the final round of shots from her plane, and they hit home. She watched, with a happiness that blossomed from within her diminutive figure, as the enemy finally went down spiralling. She heard a loud boom, and knew she won the race. Before she could get too excited, though, her eyes landed on the blinking dot once more. She was very close. The sky was in the brightest shade of azure - as it had been before she took off - when she walked quickly to the door. The girl was there, she knew it. The mission was to take her and bring her back to safety. The soldier reached out a hand and knocked on the door tenderly, rehearsing the lines she had for so many nights spoke out loud to herself in the mirror. However, no amount of military practice could have braced her for the truth, which stared at her with one hand opening the door and the other clutching onto a paper plane. © 2016 Jane DAuthor's Note
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