Flight
[Or, Two Paragraphs Are Better Than None]
At higher altitudes, Tess discovered a flock of flying wombats, bearlike marsupials with small leathery batwings that obviously didn’t support their mass but were simply illusions to facilitate flight in their minds. They were affectionate creatures, about the size and temperament of large fuzzy teddy bears, and they drifted toward her seeking hugs and head rubs before returning to their constant pastime of grazing in candyfloss clouds and excreting the sugar cubes harvested by the Domino corporation in camouflaged blimps. For an instant Tess wondered why the blimps were hidden, before she realized most sugar eaters would be loath to sweeten their tea with lumps they recognized as flying wombat dung.
After the initial wonder of levitation dissipated, Tess quickly learned to will herself places. Like all novices, she was awkward at the outset, and looked a good deal like drunken Stingo pinging off sign posts and running into low-hanging obstacles; but once she relegated flight functions to the cerebellum and medulla oblongata, direction was a mere flash in the cerebrum, and by determining her ultimate destination in advance and letting dodges and sidesteps become automatic, she gaped at the world from an entirely new perspective like a fascinated tourist. Certainly dread filled her heart, knowing a plague of Thumperism was near, but she formulated a plan for coping with it and then let herself enjoy the novelty of levitation. Tess was not a woman who would let a shred of joy slip through her fingers untasted.
Flight has 1 response
MonkeyProvider says:
23 March 2008 at 8:42 pm
…looks over her shoulder…fearing the plague of Thumperism.
