By John Andrew M. del Prado

John's eyes fluttered open. But instead of the usual feeling of refreshed relaxation, he was greeted by an unwelcome sensation – a soreness that seemed to permeate his entire back. He tried to stretch his limbs, only to wince at the sharp twinge that shot up his spine. Confused and disoriented, he thought that this back pain may have been because of a hangover. He tried to recall the events of the previous night.

The memories came back in fragments. He had indeed partied late into the night with his best friend, Adam. They had celebrated Adam's promotion at a trendy downtown bar, indulging in laughter, drinks, and dancing. John had been in high spirits, relishing every moment of their camaraderie. But as the recollections surfaced, he couldn't pinpoint any specific incident that might have caused the back pain.

Perhaps it was the dancing? John had let himself loose on the dance floor, moving to the beats with abandon. But he had danced many times before without any issues. Or maybe it was the way he slouched on the barstool while chatting with friends? That might have strained his back, but it still didn't seem enough to cause such intense discomfort.

Gingerly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, taking note of how the pain radiated from his lower back and seemed to extend down his legs. He sighed, realising that it wasn't just a fleeting ache; it was persistent and gnawing.

John's first instinct was to dismiss it as a side effect of his wild night. But as he tried to recall previous instances of party-induced aches, he couldn't find any that matched this intensity. A growing concern began to settle in, urging him to rule out any other potential causes. He attempted to reach for the center of the discomfort, but his limited shoulder mobility prevented him from doing so.

Having risen from the bed, he headed towards the bathroom, and the moment he stood upright, he felt an immediate sense of relief, as though he had been lying on his back for eons. He went straight to the bathroom mirror. He looked tired from the lack of sleep, he thought. As John gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he was taken aback to see that he now had enormous, pristine white wings extending from his back. The sight filled him with astonishment and bewilderment. So, he had been lying on his wings?

As John continued to stare at his reflection, his mind raced with questions. How on earth did he suddenly sprout wings? He pinched himself, half-hoping to wake up from what seemed like an impossible dream. But the sensation was real, and so were the wings. His thoughts swirled, and he tried to remember if there was anything unusual or mystical about the previous night. He wished that the pain was really from the partying he had done.

As the initial shock subsided, a growing concern filled his heart. He pondered how this sudden transformation could affect his life. What would his neighbours say, the people at work, Adam? Fear gripped him as he imagined the ridicule and disbelief he might face if he dared to step outside his apartment with such an extraordinary and seemingly impossible feature.

Adam had always been the traditional kind, and John feared that sharing this revelation would strain their friendship or, even worse, turn into a subject of mockery. He considered confiding in someone, seeking advice or understanding. But the prospect of revealing his new condition to anyone was daunting. The world could be harsh and unforgiving, and John wasn't sure if he could handle the consequences of being different.

As the day went on, John locked himself inside his apartment, avoiding any chance of being seen in public. He explored every possible explanation for his newfound wings, scouring the internet for obscure folklore or medical anomalies that might provide some insight. Yet, nothing seemed to explain this surreal occurrence.

In the safety of his home, he experimented with controlling his wings. To his surprise, he found that he could move them with a degree of coordination as if they were an extension of his body. The sight was both mesmerising and overwhelming. As John admired his wings in the mirror, a sense of wonder washed over him. They were indeed beautiful, their white feathers gleaming in the light. He gently moved them, marveling at the elegance and grace with which they responded to his touch. At that moment, he couldn't help but imagine the incredible possibilities that lay before him.

The thought of flying was enchanting. He pictured soaring through the endless sky, feeling the wind beneath his wings, and the freedom that came with defying gravity. The idea of exploring the world from a bird's-eye view filled him with excitement and a newfound sense of adventure.

For a brief moment, he forgot about his initial fear and uncertainty. Instead, he focused on the potential that his wings represented. They were not just an enigma or a source of anxiety; they were a gateway to something extraordinary.

As he daydreamed about flying, he started contemplating the practical aspects of it. How high could he soar? How far could he travel? Would he be able to navigate with ease, like a natural-born flyer, or would it require practice and skill?

The allure of flight was indeed powerful, but he also recognised the responsibilities and challenges that would come with such an ability. The need to keep his wings hidden from the world still weighed on him, knowing that not everyone might react positively.

It was a blessing that he worked from home. He stayed in his apartment for a week, thanks to his diligence in buying groceries enough to last a week or two. With each passing day, John's isolation within his apartment became his safe haven. Fortunately, his job spared him from the need to venture outside and face the world with his newfound wings. He communicated with colleagues through virtual meetings, emails, and phone calls, maintaining a semblance of normalcy in his professional life as an application developer.

However, as time stretched on, the walls of his apartment seemed to close in on him. Despite the comfort of his familiar surroundings, John yearned for the outside world, for human interaction, and the freedom to roam without fear of judgment. The wings that once filled him with awe now weighed on him like an invisible burden.

With the last can of tuna, he knew he couldn't stay hidden forever. The thought of leading a hermit-like existence was disheartening. He missed the simple joys of going for a walk in the park, chatting with neighbours, and sharing laughter with friends. The wings were a part of him now, and he couldn't let fear confine him.

One afternoon, John made a decision. He knew that he couldn't let fear dictate his life. He resolved to take a step outside, even if it was just a short stroll around the block. He needed to confront his fears and embrace the person he had become.

With trembling hands and a racing heart, John opened the door and stepped out of his apartment. The cool breeze brushed against his face, and he felt the weight of his wings unfurling behind him. As he walked down the hallway, he stumbled upon his elderly female neighbour, Mrs Bautista, who was known for her pleasant demeanour and friendly smile. Wary of any sign of surprise or shock, John tried to walk past her quickly. But to his amazement, Mrs Bautista greeted him warmly, just as she always had. She seemed genuinely interested in making conversation, completely oblivious to the magnificent wings extending from his back.

As they exchanged pleasantries, John found himself relaxing in her presence. He realised that perhaps his apprehension about the outside world had been fuelled by his own preconceived notions. This encounter brought a glimmer of hope and comfort to John's heart. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't need to hide his wings all the time.

With newfound optimism, John continued his journey outside. Throughout the day, he encountered various people, and to his surprise, most of them didn't react with shock or judgment. Surprisingly, the outside world seemed indifferent to his unusual appearance. Passers-by cast fleeting glances, but no one stopped to point, whisper, or ridicule. Some people glanced at him briefly, but they quickly went about their own business, seemingly unfazed by his wings. It was as if the world had more important matters to attend to than his physical appearance.

As John continued to explore, he found solace in the fact that most people were preoccupied with their own lives and concerns. The fear he had built up in his mind began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of liberation. He realised that the wings, despite their size, were a part of him, but they didn't define him entirely. He strolled down the street to a charming local coffee shop, determined to enjoy a cup of his favourite brew and relish the ambiance of a bustling public space.

As he entered the café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped him, and the friendly chatter of patrons created a comforting backdrop. John's heart raced a bit, but he reminded himself that he was on a mission to experience the world without fear.

He ordered his usual cappuccino and chose a corner seat by the window, allowing him to people-watch as he sipped his drink. The sounds of conversations and clinking cups provided a soothing rhythm, and John found himself lost in thought as he observed the ebb and flow of life around him.

He couldn't help but notice that a few curious glances were directed his way, accompanied by hushed whispers. It wasn't surprising; his wings were an uncommon sight, and human nature often gravitated toward the unfamiliar. However, the glances were fleeting, and John realised that most people seemed preoccupied with their own conversations and activities.

Just as he settled into his coffee, a young man approached his table. The man's eyes were wide with fascination, and a warm smile spread across his face. He had short hair and a genuine aura of curiosity about him.

"Excuse me," the man began, his tone polite yet eager. "I couldn't help but notice your wings. They're incredible! Mind if I ask about them?"

John's heart swelled with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. He hadn't expected such a direct and positive response. He gestured to the empty chair across from him, inviting the man to join him.

"Of course, please, have a seat," John replied, returning the man's smile. "I appreciate your curiosity. Not many people approach me so openly."

The man introduced himself as Michael and sat down with genuine enthusiasm. As John reflected on Michael's enthusiasm, he couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. At first, he had found it somewhat puzzling that Michael was so fascinated by him. What was it about his wings that had captivated Michael's attention? Was it solely the novelty of his appearance, or was there something more to it?

John realised that he was grappling with a deeper issue – the fear of being reduced to just his physical attributes. He wondered if Michael was genuinely interested in getting to know him as a person or if he was merely fixated on the spectacle of his wings.

As John shared his story – from the initial shock of discovering his wings to his journey of acceptance – Michael listened attentively, nodding and asking thoughtful questions along the way. It felt refreshing to be able to talk openly about something that had been a source of both wonder and apprehension. As John thought back to the conversation with Michael, he couldn't deny the sincerity in his eyes and the genuine curiosity that had emanated from him. Perhaps, John considered, it was possible that Michael saw beyond the surface and recognised the courage it took for him to share his story. The more he thought about it, the more John realised that his initial skepticism might have been unfair to Michael. After all, everyone had unique qualities that piqued others' interest – whether it was a talent, a passion, or a distinct feature. Just as John had his wings, others might have their own traits that drew attention and fascination.

Before long, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics beyond the wings. They talked about shared interests, dreams, and life experiences. John found himself enjoying the company and realising that this chance encounter was turning into a meaningful connection that he desired when he secluded himself after waking up with these wings.

As their conversation drew to a close, Michael expressed his gratitude for the enlightening discussion. "Thank you for sharing your story with me," he said sincerely. After a minute, he asked, "Have you tried to fly?"

"I never thought of that."

"Well, try it. It might make you feel—I don't know—freer than most people?" Michael smiled, but then he looked at his phone and saw that it was time for him to go.

John felt a genuine sense of connection. Before Michael left the coffee shop, they exchanged contact information, promising to stay in touch.

John's phone lit up with a message notification. He thought it was Michael, but when he picked it up, he saw that it was from his best friend, Adam. The message conveyed a note of concern, asking if everything was all right because Adam hadn't seen John since the night they had partied together.

He quickly typed out a reply, assuring Adam that he was indeed okay. He explained that he had been going through some unexpected changes but that he was managing. John felt a pang of nervousness as he considered whether to reveal his wings to Adam. He trusted his best friend, but the fear of judgment still lingered.

John's heart raced with anticipation as he agreed to meet Adam in their cherished park. The place held memories of laughter, secrets shared, and an unbreakable bond that had weathered life's storms. The air seemed electric, a mix of hope and apprehension, as John made his way to the rendezvous.

As he approached the familiar bench under the sprawling narra tree, he caught sight of Adam's figure in the distance. Adam's back was turned, and his broad shoulders seemed to tense up. John's steps faltered for a moment, a sliver of doubt seeping into his excitement.

Finally, they stood face to face. John's radiant smile faltered as he took in the uncharacteristic expression on Adam's face. Adam's brows furrowed, his lips twisted into a semblance of a smile that held a peculiar mix of disbelief and discomfort. It was as though John's presence had unleashed an unanticipated wave of emotions within Adam.

"Hey, Adam," John said tentatively, the words escaping his lips in a hushed tone that seemed to echo in the silence between them.

Adam's eyes seemed to linger on John's face for a moment too long before darting away, his gaze fixed on a distant point. John's heart sank as he searched in Adam's eyes for a glimmer of recognition, a hint of the friendship they had cultivated over the years.

An awkward silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city. John's heart raced, his mind racing to find words that could bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between them. He was met with a fleeting gaze from Adam – laced with a hint of something that sent a shiver down his spine, a chill that severed the warmth of their connection.

It was a moment frozen in time, an unexpected twist in the narrative of their friendship. John grappled with confusion, desperately yearning to understand the turmoil etched across Adam's features. Yet, like a puzzle with missing pieces, he was left with a disheartening uncertainty that seemed impossible to unravel.

The park's tranquility seemed to amplify the tension between John and Adam as they sat side by side, a noticeable distance separating them. The once-familiar atmosphere felt strained, an invisible barrier separating their worlds. Their shoulders barely brushed against each other, an uncomfortable reminder of the connection that had begun to unravel.

The minutes ticked by in agonising slowness, marked by the sound of distant birdsong and the soft rustling of leaves. Words seemed to hang suspended in the air, as if both men were caught in a silent struggle to find the right things to say. John's attempts to bridge the gap were met with Adam's evasive glances, each look a reminder of the unspoken emotions that lay beneath the surface.

The silence between them became a heavy weight, settling like a fog that obscured their shared history. It was a silence filled with questions, regrets, and a yearning for the ease that had once defined their camaraderie. John's gaze remained fixed on the ground, his heart heavy with the weight of unexpressed emotions.

Just when the silence felt unbearable, the wind blew so hard that one of John's wings brushed Adam's face. Adam shivered and wiped his face as if mud touched it.

After a few more minutes of silence, Adam's sudden movement shattered the fragile stillness. With a swift, almost abrupt motion, Adam stood up, his body tense and his face etched with a mixture of frustration and something unidentifiable. The air seemed to crackle with the intensity of his departure.

John's breath caught in his throat as he watched Adam turn away without a word. A rush of emotions surged within him – bewilderment, hurt, and a lingering sense of betrayal. The unspoken words that had hung in the air seemed to dissipate into the ether, lost in the wake of Adam's abrupt exit.

As Adam's figure grew smaller in the distance, John remained seated on the bench, a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings swirling within him. The park, once a sanctuary of shared confidences, now felt like a landscape of fractured memories. And with Adam's departure, their unspoken history took on a new shape – one defined by an unresolved silence that echoed louder than any words they could have spoken.

Back in the solitude of his apartment, John's heartache seemed to magnify. He closed the door behind him, the sound resonating like the echo of shattered expectations. He wandered through the familiar spaces, each corner now tinged with the memory of his meeting with Adam at the park.

Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, the weight of the day's events sinking into him like a heavy fog. Sleep remained elusive, his mind racing with a cacophony of thoughts and emotions that refused to be subdued. The moon's soft glow filtered through the curtains, casting an ethereal light that did little to alleviate the heaviness within him.

Beside him, his phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Each vibration seemed to reverberate through him, a reminder of Michael's persistent concern. John's internal battle raged on – he wanted to answer, to confide in someone who had shown genuine care, but the weight of his unspoken feelings seemed to paralyse him.

With every call, Michael's enthusiasm seemed to chip away at the walls John had erected around his vulnerability. The voicemail notifications accumulated, a testament to Michael's unwavering support. Yet, as John stared at his phone, he realised that it wasn't Michael he wanted to talk to. It was someone else, someone whose absence now echoed louder than ever.

The memory of Adam's gaze, a mixture of discomfort and unreadable emotion, played like a broken record in John's mind. He longed to understand, to bridge the gap that had seemingly formed between them. But as the night deepened, John wrestled with the silence that stood as an insurmountable barrier, the unspoken words between them growing heavier with every passing second.

Amidst the weight of sleeplessness, memories of John and Adam's childhood danced vividly in John's mind, a bittersweet montage that played like an old film reel.

He recalled the sweltering summer afternoons when they would explore the woods near their neighbourhood. The sunlit glades and dappled shadows were their secret kingdom, where they forged a bond that seemed unbreakable. They'd spend hours chasing fireflies, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustling of leaves.

The memory of their hands brushing against each other as they reached for the same branch brought a flicker of warmth to John's heart. They would build makeshift forts out of fallen branches and discarded blankets, where their whispered dreams held no limits. Their whispered conversations carried a sense of intimacy that seemed to transcend mere friendship.

As they grew older, the memories morphed into shared secrets under the twinkling canvas of stars. One night, lying side by side on a grassy hill, they had traced the constellations with their fingers, weaving stories of adventures that took them far beyond the confines of their small town. John recalled how their eyes would meet, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that seemed to shimmer between them.

The image of Adam's face illuminated by a campfire's glow was etched into John's mind. Their laughter mingled with the crackling of the flames as they toasted marshmallows and swapped tales of daring escapades. It was during those moments that John felt a pang of something he couldn't quite name, a longing that lingered beneath the surface of their camaraderie.

And then there were the stolen glances, the fleeting touches that sent John's heart into a quiet frenzy. The memory of Adam's fingers brushing against his during a shared bike ride down a hill brought a rush of nostalgia that was tinged with a sense of unfulfilled yearning. John wondered if Adam had ever sensed the same undercurrent, the hidden depths of emotion that John dared not acknowledge.

As the moon continued its journey across the sky, John clung to those memories like lifelines. They were the fragments of a connection that had once held the promise of something more, a bond that had transcended the ordinary. But amidst the flood of emotions, there remained an unspoken truth – one that had left their connection suspended in the realm of what could have been.

As memories of their shared past continued to weave their tapestry of emotion, John found himself lost in their intricate threads. He had become an unwitting passenger on a journey through time, reliving moments that had shaped their friendship. The persistent calls from Michael and the barrage of messages faded into insignificance, mere background noise in a world consumed by memories.

The memory of a rainy afternoon in their teenage years resurfaced, the two of them seeking shelter under an old oak tree. Their clothes clung to their skin, raindrops painting intricate patterns on their skin. As they huddled together, laughter spilled from their lips, mingling with the soft rhythm of the falling rain. In that moment, John's heart felt impossibly light, as if the world around them had blurred into insignificance.

But as the hours passed and the night deepened, a subtle shift began to take hold within John. The warmth of their memories was juxtaposed against the current chill that seemed to permeate his surroundings. The laughter that had once echoed in his mind was replaced by a haunting silence, punctuated only by the soft rustling of leaves outside his window.

Amidst the darkness, a realisation dawned upon him like a crack of lightning illuminating a stormy sky. His sadness, the ache that seemed to settle in the depths of his being, was no longer solely about the memories he cherished. It was about the change that had transformed his very existence – the magnificent wings that had sprouted from his back.

With a clarity that cut through the haze of emotion, John recognised that the wings were both a blessing and a curse. They were a physical manifestation of the distance that had grown between him and Adam, a visual reminder of a connection that had frayed at the edges. The wings, once a symbol of marvel and curiosity, now stood as a barrier that separated him from the person who had once been his closest confidant.

And so, in the stillness of the night, John's gaze shifted from the past to the present, from memories to the reality that enveloped him. The wings, as wondrous as they were, had transformed his world in ways he could not have foreseen. They had given him the ability to soar, but they had also grounded him in a newfound isolation. As the moon continued its silent journey across the sky, John found himself grappling with the complex tapestry of emotions that had woven his past into his present.

In the quiet solitude of his room, John's thoughts turned to a drastic idea – one that both terrified and enticed him. The notion of severing his wings took root, fueled by a desperate desire to shed the physical embodiment of his isolation. The knife lay cold and gleaming on the table, its presence a chilling reminder of the choice he was contemplating.

With trembling hands, he reached for the knife, his fingers wrapping around its handle. The weight of the decision pressed heavily upon him, a collision of fear and longing. But as he stood before the mirror, the blade glinting in the dim light, he found himself unable to proceed.

His reflection stared back at him, the wings extending from his shoulders like delicate sculptures. They were a marvel, a manifestation of his uniqueness, yet they also represented the divide that had formed between him and the world he had known. The mirror seemed to hold his gaze captive, his own eyes filled with uncertainty and doubt.

As he lifted the knife towards one of the wings, his hand trembled, a mixture of anticipation and hesitation. The blade's edge grazed the soft feathers, a sensation that sent shivers down his spine. At that moment, an overwhelming wave of emotions crashed upon him – a potent blend of fear, uncertainty, and an unspoken reverence for the significance of what he was about to do.

And then, as the seconds stretched into eternity, something within him shifted. He realised that the act of severing his wings was not just about physical pain – it was about confronting his deepest fears and acknowledging the fragility of his existence. His hands trembled not just with the anticipation of pain, but with the realisation that he was on the precipice of a decision that could forever alter the course of his life.

With the blade hovering so close, he stared at his reflection, his eyes locked onto his own gaze. He saw a reflection of vulnerability and resilience, of a person at the crossroads of an irreversible choice. And in that moment, the knife wavered, its cold steel a stark reminder of the path he was contemplating.

But then, as if guided by an invisible force, he lowered the knife. The moment of truth had passed, the impulse to cut away his wings replaced by a surge of self-preservation. The reasons for his hesitation were myriad – the fear of death, the dread of blood, and the realisation that the wings were a part of him, entwined with his identity in ways he could not easily discard.

With the blade now resting on the table, John let out a shaky breath. The mirror held his gaze once more, his reflection a testament to his inner struggle. The room seemed to echo with the weight of his decision—one that had transcended the physical realm, delving deep into the recesses of his psyche. And as the night pressed on, John found himself grappling not just with the idea of cutting his wings, but with the complexities of his own emotions and the enigmatic nature of his existence.

Weeks of John's absence finally spurred Mrs Sanchez, his concerned neighbour, to take action. She approached the apartment administration, a furrow of worry etched on her brow. The administrators listened as she shared her concerns, her words a reflection of the growing unease that had permeated the complex.

As a response to Mrs Sanchez's apprehensions, the administration decided to investigate the heart of the matter – John's living space. With a quiet sense of gravity, they approached his apartment, the anticipation of discovery heavy in the air. The door swung open with a muted creak, revealing an interior that seemed to have stood still in time.

The room's silence was a stark contrast to the bustling world outside. Neatness prevailed – a perfectly made bed, furniture untouched, the remnants of a life left undisturbed. But the absence was undeniable, casting a shadow over the space that was both empty and telling in its silence.

The apartment administration searched for any sign of a struggle, any hint that might explain John's disappearance. Yet, the room held no secrets. There were no disrupted belongings, no indications of disturbance, except for a few scraps of paper on the floor, probably blown by the wind from the open window. It was as if John had left his world behind, the echoes of his presence fading into nothingness.

The realisation struck with an unsettling weight – the absence was not marked by chaos or tumult, but by a void that seemed to have swallowed everything whole. John's belongings remained untouched, a silent testament to his inexplicable departure. The room held a sense of abandonment, an aura of vacancy that defied explanation.

And so, within the confines of the apartment complex, the enigma deepened. The once-familiar halls and corridors now whispered with uncertainty, the echoes of unanswered questions reverberating through the space. John's absence was a story without a conclusion, leaving behind only the eerie quiet of an empty room – a space that bore witness to the puzzle of his disappearance, a mystery that left no traces behind.

In the weeks following John's mysterious disappearance, whispers and speculations spread throughout the apartment complex like wildfire. The vacuum of information left a void that human curiosity was eager to fill, and so, stories began to emerge – each more fantastical than the last.

One whispered tale suggested that John had won the lottery, vanishing to live a life of luxury on a faraway island. The vividness of this story had neighbours exchanging knowing glances, their imaginations ignited by the prospect of unimaginable wealth transforming a quiet life. Another version spoke of a secret romance, John eloping with a lover whose existence had remained hidden from everyone. The hushed exchanges carried notes of intrigue, as the complex's residents pondered over the possibility of hidden passion and a love story that defied convention.

However, the most captivating and intriguing narrative was the one that spoke of a figure who had witnessed something truly extraordinary. According to this tale, a child in a neighbouring building claimed to have seen John spread his wings and take flight from his balcony, bathed in the silver hues of the moon. The witness's account painted a mesmerising image – a silhouette soaring into the sky, a moment that felt like the stuff of legends.

Yet, these stories remained confined within the complex's walls, not gaining much traction beyond its boundaries. With no concrete evidence and no official confirmation, the notion of John's departure took root, leaving behind a common assumption that he had chosen to leave without a trace.

The story of John's disappearance remained largely contained within the apartment's limited circle, quietly fading into the backdrop of residents' lives. In the absence of answers, assumptions filled the void, and life carried on, the tales of his vanishing act becoming mere footnotes in the larger narrative of the complex's daily existence.

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