This was a new idea I had. I've gotten bored with the plots of my other stories. If you have ideas for them, lemme know. I hope you like this, and it would literally make my day if you reviewed. I want feedback! :)
I was born this way. I don't know if I was destined to be like this, fate must've had some pretty screwed up idea in mind when my DNA was compiled. I try my best to keep this secret, a secret. My family are the only ones who know about it and accept me completely. I was a freak of nature. A mutant of sorts. Now I was moving to Forks, Washington to live with my father. He knew, of course. I just don't know how well it's going to sink in, the fact that his daughter has wings.
I was born a normal baby. Nothing suspicious, nothing weird, every hair was in place. I was normal until five years of age. I remember vividly. My back began to itch terribly. I complained constantly to my mother, who was already stressed out about her recent divorce to my father. We moved to Phoenix, Arizona, while Charlie stayed in Forks. We applied anti-itch cream everyday. It didn't help.
I woke up one night from a bad dream. I went to the bathroom and saw two small, bone-like structures protruding from each side of my upper back. I freaked and ran to my mother's room. She stared at me for a long while before saying anything. She rushed to the bathroom, grabbing the phone as she went. I could hear her whispering into the headset "Mom, oh God! Mom she got it, she was chosen." I couldn't hear the rest as she moved farther into the bathroom shutting the door behind her. She came back out five minutes later then began researching on our dial up Internet. I laid l on her bed, the bluish glow of the monitor screen lit up the walls of the room, and the steady hum of the computer lulled me into sleep. The next morning was hectic. Mom had made a big breakfast and most of my immediate family was there, even Dad.
"Bella, Sweetie! Your up, come and eat!" Mom called when she saw me walk into the kitchen. Everyone turned to look at me from around the dining room table. Slightly forced smiles dawned their faces. My grandmother, my mother's mother, was the only one really smiling at me with love. I walked over to her and she hugged me tight, carefully avoiding my shoulder blades on my back. "What's going on grandma?" I whispered into her hair. "Your special, my Bell. You've received a gift that hasn't been seen in our family since my great-grandmother. You are an Alida. A winged person."
I gazed at her, aware of the silence throughout the kitchen as everyone watched the exchange between us and awaiting my reaction.
"Wings? Like angels?" I said quietly. All the attention made my face flush red. "Yes, like angels, but we aren't angels, Bella. It runs in our blood, a magic, that chooses who will be next in line to possess the gift of flying among the skies. Your immortal now, only growning until seventeen. You will be magnificent."
I remember the rest of the conversation in less clarity, but none of it impacted me as much as those first few sentences my grandmother told me. My family learned to deal with my gift, as much as it freaked them out.
There was a rule guide to being me.
1. Absolutely no doctors. Doctors led to questions and questions led to unexplainable answers and science experiments.
2. No telling anyone. Not bestfriends, not boyfriends (not that I've had one to tell), not anybody. Exposion could mean death.
3. No flying around towns, above towns, or over houses.
4. No tank tops, or back-revealing shirts.
5. I never trust any person completely, never give hints to what I am, and never slip up with the secret.
These rules have been ingrained in me since that first morning. I'm seventeen now. My wings are fullgrown, just as my body is. I usally conceal them all the time unless I'm flying. My grandmother taught me how when I was ten. I have to focus and breathe deeply and pull them into my back. All people see when they see my back is a tattoo of wings that goes all the way up to my shoulders and down below my waist. I never wear tank tops; I don't want to be viewed as the type to get a tattoo like that. The tattoo looks just like my wings when they're out. They are beautiful. It takes my breath away every time I look at them in the mirror. My wingspan is probably 15 feet. My bones are light and hollow, yet stronger than any human's bones. My wings are white, dappled at the edges with brown, gray, and black. The brown is the same color as my hair, a chocolate brown. I have long hair that waves half-way down my back, light brown eyes with long lashes, a small nose, straight eyebrows, and full lips, though the top is slightly too full for the bottom. I am pretty, but I wouldn't go as far to say I'm magnificent as my grandmother always tells me when she sees me.
She always asks me to leave them out when I'm with her because they remind her of her great grandmother, who stayed seventeen up until my grandmother was well into her twenties. She outlived her husband and all of her friends and gave up her immortality when my grandmother turned twenty-seven. I never found out how she gave up the gift. I wouldn't be able to bring myself to if I had the chance.
Flying was my world, the sky my home, and the wind in my face perfection.
I could never give that up.
But, yet here I was, getting on a plane to Seattle, where Charlie would pick me up, and I'd hardly ever get to fly because of the rain. At least most of the state was secluded with forests. That was probably the only upside.
Mom got remarried. Phil was okay, he was young. Maybe to young for my Mom, but as long as she's happy. She told him my secret. It was unavoidable, due to him joining the immediate family. He was shocked, quiet about it at first. But, then he was intrigued. He asked a million questions. 'How fast can you fly?' The fastest is the speed of sound. 'Can I see your wings?' Suree... 'What are your other ablities?' Super human speed, hearing, sight, strength and smell. A fairly almost perfect recall, and super-smartness. Hehe. 'Can you carry me while you fly?' Ahh, Hell no. Sorry.
He asked a ton more that got on my nerves.
The whole point of my new living arrangements was to give my mom and Phil some space to be newlyweds. With advanced hearing, I didn't want to be the one in the room across the hall every night. Plus, I wanted to escape Phil's stupid innuendos about my gift. I have wings. Get over it dude.
The plane ride was a breeze. Anything in the air was great, but nothing beats flying myself.
I spotted Charlie as soon as I got off the plane. He was leaning against his police cruiser in the parking lot of the small airport. He was the police chief of Forks.
"Bells?" I heard him say with a look of shock on his face; He hasn't seen me since I was fifteen. I had changed a bit since then. "Yep. Its me, dad." I said as he pulled me into a tight hug. Conversation was awkward and limitted on the way to his house, now my house too.
He didn't mention my gift and neither did I.
"Welcome home Bells." He said, smiling his crinckled eye smile as we pulled in the drive way. I couldn't help but smile in return. I could tell he was happy that I came, and I found myself not regretting the decision as much as I had before. He helped me carry my bags up to the room that was mine as I was a toddler. It was small, but not too small for me. I liked it.
"I got you the purple bedspread and added the desk. I figured you could add what you wanted to make it more yours." He said as he pointed out each new thing. "Thanks Dad, it means a lot." I smiled and he shrugged with content look and walked out of the room. That was one thing I liked about Charlie. He didn't hover much.
I put away my clothes, careful to separate the tops with slits in the back for my wings and the normal ones.
"School tomorrow, Bella!" Charlie yelled. Crap. I forgot.
"Okay!" I yelled back.
I put on pajamas and climed into the small twin bed. The light pitter-patter of rain slowly helped me fall asleep.
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