Take offs and Landings

Start with a whoosh

And a breath

And a sigh

End with a whoosh

And a breath

And a sigh

Take off

Leave the ground

And soar through the air

Land

On the ground

With a sad farewell

Start with a whoosh

Come, take my hand!
Won't it be grand
For you and me
To go flying over the sea?
Let's go!
You don't know
That it won't work 'til you've tried it.
Forget your doctorate in science!
Now please,
Just believe
It'll be lots of fun
Don't you feel that sun?
Now, open your eyes
Don't be so surprised!
We're soaring so very free
Flying over the sea.

*****

About the title:

     The voices were burly and rough. The chairs were squeaking across the floor. Plates clattered and water was being poured. The heavy collapsing of men into chairs threatened the floor.

     Agitation twitched in their voices; fury rose in their tones. Adelaide could distinguish six different voices. One was bawling over the rest in a thick voice.

Fever

Once a bully threw a rock at me, wrapped in just enough snow to disguise its true nature.  Now I feel the reverse of that pain, with my loose skin barely holding the burning embers of my body together. I swallow screams down my parched throat, knowing each tear on my cheek stabs my mother’s heart like a dagger.

Images of dancing flames overlay my vision, sending up wisps of phantom smoke. A voice calls my name.

I am planning to participate in NaNoWriMo[National Novel Writing Month], an attempt to write a 50,000 word story during November. But I can't decide which story to write. I'd appriciate any opinions or advice, especially since I should decide by November 1st, less than two weeks away.

Skye
format: 1st person

Structure:Two parts

1.Kestrel
2.Skye—after Kes’s death

Opening: Kestrel’s story/dream of the fire and escape

When I read Flight, I was impressed by your skill with words, but even more amazing was the yearning underlying—or is it overlaying?—every word. I too have struggled with the sky-sickness and fought the flight-longing.

Oh, look at that tree,
Much, much taller than me,
Reaching way up for the sky.

I looked at that tree,
So much taller than me,
Thinking ‘twas higher than high.

As I looked at that tree,
I wished dreamily
That up near the clouds I could fly.

Like a bird in that tree,
So much higher than me,
Seated in his nest, warm and dry.

While I walked by that tree,
I stumbled dazedly,
Wiping a tear from my eye.

Sitting down by that tree,
I realized suddenly,
Better to accept, than ask “why?”