The old man eased from the shadows, his motions both fluid and easy, as he lifted the camcorder into the sunlight. He adjusted the optical zoom, and just as he aimed it at the top of the building, the child stepped into view. The flowing satin fabric caught on the slight breeze, and damned if the kid didn’t really look like a superhero. The child placed his fists on either side of his waist and poked out his chest, taking in the moment. It was a thing of beauty, the old man thought while recording.
The boy stepped to the edge of the building, his golden locks shifting with the wind.
“You have to believe,” the old man whispered under his breath, adjusting his camcorder. He looked away for a moment to the group of children gathering below. They were doing just as he had instructed them. Now the real crowd would come.
A woman looked upward and screamed, triggering a chain reaction among the swelling crowd.
“Someone call 9-1-1!” a man yelled.
The old man quickly lowered his camcorder to get a shot of the growing crowd, before returning his gaze to the boy who stood frozen like a statue atop the building. He could scarcely make out the boy’s face, but it was clear the boy’s posture and stance betrayed his ten-year-old body.
Then the boy moved. It was a slight half-step, but everyone, including the old man, gasped collectively. It was a delicious moment, this child weighing his power over this world, his ability to transcend gravity and give himself over to his dreams. The old man smiled, his hand perspiring behind the camcorder.
And without warning, the boy leapt off the building, his cape catching in the wind and trailing boldly behind him as he outstretched his arms so that his body became parallel with the earth. It was a beautiful sight, thought the old man, as he moved his camera with the child. The boy could really fly!
But in the brief seconds of the boy’s commitment to flight, gravity wrapped its heavy hands around him, yanking him to the earth with such violent force that the boy seemed to disintegrate into a bloody dust as his body slammed against the concrete.
When the old man later replayed the video, he admired that fleeting moment of the boy, prostrate against the wind, oblivious to the screams below, floating just off the roof of the building, his cape rippling perfectly behind him. He only hoped that the other children would be equally inspired. Surely there was one among them who viewed himself as bulletproof or capable of breathing under water.
Pausing the video just before the child hit the sidewalk below, the old man smiled at the intensity of the child’s face.
That boy was determined to fly—even until the very end.