Tears ran down her face as the last of the sun’s rays crossed the skies, kissing them and making it seem like she was crying tears of blood.

She opened her eyes one last time to the beautiful scene that was laid before her. This was it, it would be over.

Death wasn’t the end truly, that wasn’t its purpose. But she decided it didn’t matter. In the act of ultimate selfishness she could bring upon something more selfless with her death than anything she could ever achieve in life.

And even without the gift of foresight, she knew that it would be better.

She parted her lips, glancing towards the heavens, willing her words to flow; her whispers to weave through the wind.

“You said if I wanted to fly, you would give me your wings.” She said almost fearfully.

Perched on the cliff, she almost expected an answer. But all that came was the howling winds, the crashing water below and the tensed air that marked her death.

“I want to fly.”

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