Beat The Clock.

Jan 25 - Wings

The arguments were always about something, and usually that something held no importance Amber except whether or not it ended in fists. As she sat at the end of the dining table, fiddling with her peas and carrots, to count another sip her father took from his bottle. Forty-seven tonight. If it didn't go over thirty, they'd all be okay. Over forty sips meant the world inside their little trailer was going to full of anxiety. Over fifty-five meant she was suppose to run out of the trailer into the backwoods, and not to come back until the screaming was over.

Forty-eight...forty-nine...fifty...

The look of her father frightened her most of the time. His face always looked full and red, the strands of his disappearing blond hair greasy at the touch, and after a day's work his face was sour as a lemon. Mama had told them - her and lil' Jack - not to make too much of a fuss or deliberately try to get on his nerves. It was best not to get him angry, or he'll think you don't care. Amber would always try her best. She hated him angry.But some times a question really needed to be asked.

Like today.

"I wish I had fairy wings."

The hush around the table grew stronger with her words. Refusing to look up at her father's face, she stared at the ant hole she made with her vegetables. "I've always wanted to fly up in the air with the birds and see what they see from way up high."

Fifty-one... fifty-three... fifty-four...

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could all do that? Have wings right on our backs and fly far away from here."

A fist slammed down on the table, making Amber jump. "You mean from me. You want to run away from me."

Their words clashed together like rocks as they tried to reassure him, but Amber knew there was nothing they could do. The red was up. He was angry. And for the first time she didn't care.

Her father yanked out her chair by two fistfuls of the back of her dress. Stocking outside, he bashed open the front and porch doors with the boot of his heel. "You want to fly away so badly, little girl. Go on then. Fly." He pulled her back with all his might before throwing her straight out the door.

For a second, as she began to fall through the air, as the breeze wrapped around her like a blanket, she felt two beautiful gossamer wings sprouted from beneath her shoulder blades. For that one moment Amber could have sworn she could fly.