The Boy Who Could Fly

chapter one

Aimee had always wished for her life to be like a fairytale. She wanted to be like the heroine in each of her books. She wanted to wear the beautiful dresses. To travel the high seas with a band of swashbuckling adventurers such as herself. To reject a marriage proposal from the prince because she was in love with a peasant boy. To visit far-away places and battle evil villains.

But Aimee didn't know how to wield a sword. She wasn't a princess or a pirate. She was just plain old Aimee Chapelle. She loved her life, but she had always felt a pull in the direction of fantasy in adventure. In reality, she knew she could never go on those adventures. She had two younger siblings that looked up to her. If she left them, what kind of example would she be setting? Certainly not a responsible one. And since her parents were incredibly busy, she had to grow up and be the big sister.

"Aimee, we're leaving!" Aimee's mother's voice called her out of her thoughts. She set down the book she was reading. Quickly giving Nani, the family dog, a pat, she hurried downstairs towards the door.

"I'm here!" She said hurriedly, straightening her skirt. "We can leave now." She joined her younger siblings and mother in leaving. Together, they walked down the street, which was bustling with the evening rush of people leaving work. Her parents had recently come into possession of an empty building. After much discussion over what to do with it, they had decided to use it for good. Once it was ready, the building would house many of the children living on the streets of New York. While many of them had jobs working at factories or as newsboys, they still didn't have a safe place to live.

Aimee was very glad about the plan for this building. She happily helped her mother pick out ways to decorate the inside of the building. She wanted to make it feel like a real home for the children, not some stone cold orphanage. As they arrived at the building, Aimee looked up at it. They'd been doing work inside, but the outside was still bland, even in the golden glow of the setting sun. Hopefully that would be fixed soon.

As they stepped inside, Aimee's siblings, Sally and Sebastien, wandered off. Aimee followed her mother up the stairs to the second story. Within the past few days, they had gotten the bunk room mostly set up. Several bunk beds were spread out across the room, ready to be used. Aimee's mother carried a large stack of bedsheets.

"Start on one end and I'll start on the other. We can meet in the middle," her mother said, giving Aimee half her stack of sheets. With a nod, Aimee began to put the sheets on the beds. She struggled to do the upper bunks, but after a few tries, she got the hang of it. A while later, every mattress was covered with sheets. The task that they had come to do was completed.

Giggling, Sally and Sebastien chased each other through the room, weaving in between the beds. Aimee watched them with a smile. She longed to be a child again, but she knew that she couldn't reverse time. She didn't feel like much of a grown-up, but she knew she was well on her way to becoming a woman instead of a girl. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

"We need to go," her mother said. "I have to get ready for the party tonight. Your father should be home already."

Aimee nodded. "Sally, Sebastien, let's go." She took both of their hands and led them out of the building. Her mother followed closely behind.

Soon, they all arrived back at home. After dinner, Aimee's mother began to get ready, and Aimee went back to reading her book. However, she was pulled out of her story about an hour later by her siblings calling her name. She rose and joined them in the bedroom they all shared.

"Play with us!" Sally begged, grinning widely. The eight year old wore one of her mother's scarves around her head, covering up her dark hair.

"We're playing pirates!" Sebastien added. He wore one of his father's coats that was much too large for his five-year-old body. His dark blonde hair, which he inherited from his father, stuck up all over the place. He brandished a small wooden sword and was pointing it at Sally menacingly.

"You can be our damsel in distress," Sally said happily, grabbing another scarf and skipping over to her older sister. She took Aimee's hands and wrapped the scarf around her wrists. "I'll be the bad pirate, and Seb can be the good one. He'll come rescue you," she explained matter-of-factly.

"Yay!" Sebastien cheered. "I get to rescue her. Now let her go!" He shouted, pointing his sword at Sally once again. Before Sebastien had a chance to fight his sister, their parents stepped into the room.

Aimee gasped softly. "Mama, you look beautiful," she breathed. People said that she was the spitting image of her mother, but it was moments like these that made Aimee doubt that. Her mother was gorgeous. If anything, Sally looked more like her than Aimee did.

"You too, Papa," Sally chimed in with a giggle.
Their father grinned. "Thank you, Sally," he said. "We're going to head out. Aimee is in charge, and you two need to get in bed." He pointed at Sebastien and Sally, who both sighed in disappointment.

"We'll be back in a few hours," their mother said, stepping forward and taking the scarf from Sally. She gently pulled the coat off Sebastien and folded it. "Get in bed." They quickly obeyed, and Aimee said goodnight to them. She stepped out of the room to allow her parents to say goodnight. Once the two were snugly in bed, her parents came to speak with Aimee.

"If anything is wrong, the neighbors know that we're gone. They agreed to keep an eye out for anything," Aimee's mother said. "And you always have Nani to protect you." Upon hearing her name, Nani contentedly padded over to Aimee for pets.

"Have fun," Aimee said with a small smile. "We'll be here when you get back."

"Don't wait up for us," her father instructed. Aimee said goodbye to her parents, and then they left.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Nani." Aimee smiled at the dog and grabbed her book, Jane Eyre. She settled in the big armchair next to the fire and picked up where she left off. Within moments, her eyes began to droop. Aimee unintentionally fell asleep, the words of Charlotte Brontë being the last thing she remembered.

"The clock, far down in the hall, struck two. Just then it seemed my chamber-door was
touched; as if fingers had swept the panels in groping a way along the dark gallery
outside. I said, "Who is there?" Nothing answered. I was chilled with fear. [...]

"This was a demoniac laugh—low, suppressed, and deep—uttered, as it seemed, at the very keyhole of my chamber door. The head of my bed was near the door, and I thought at first the goblin-laugher stood at my bedside—or rather, crouched by my pillow: but I rose, looked round, and could see nothing; while, as I still gazed, the unnatural sound was reiterated: and I knew it came from behind the panels. My first impulse was to rise and fasten the bolt; my next, again to cry out, "Who is there?"

"Something gurgled and moaned. Ere long, steps retreated up the gallery towards the third-storey staircase: a door had lately been made to shut in that staircase; I heard it open and close, and all was still."