...like an angel in the sky
Skylight Blast
Dancing Angels
The plain white walls, glossy with dried paint were a dull and repulsing sight. Highlighting the mood of the room, it gave no comfort, only a cold and lifeless face to stare at. It contrasted against the bright color of blue and yellow that radiated off of the flight suit in the room. The wearer however, showed no demeanor that encouraged its happy presentation. Bold and brave that wore the patch upon his suit; it was ironic to his anxious shaking and panicked thoughts.
Sweat drew a bead across the man’s brow and his teal eyes were wide open with fear. His brown hair was disheveled and bags formed troughs under his eyes. He was a complete mess of emotions. His stomach churned with poison and his thoughts pounded at his heart. He couldn’t stop the constant shaking that coursed throughout his body. Every part of him was being strangled and his breathing grew short. It was as if he was drowning and desperate for air.
The man hunched over in his seat in an attempt to quell the ever-present feeling of vomiting, only to fail at that. Keeping his head down, the young man’s gaze was fixed upon a random spot on the floor. His eyes barely blinked, frozen in a state of shock and agonizing thought.
It was the man’s first air show to perform as a Wonderbolt. He had gone through the Equestrian Air Force flight program and was eventually selected to be a part of the most renowned advanced stunt aviation unit. It was his dream to fly like the Wonderbolts did with their daring and jaw-dropping maneuvers. He wanted to show off those vibrant colors of the blue and yellow fighter jet and to inspire all those who saw him. He wanted to motivate and capture the hearts of those who watched him perform and represent the Navy with his abilities.
Now, all he could think of was how frightened he was. His dream was now turning into a nightmare that was suffocating him. He hadn’t anticipated that the anxiety before a show would be this bad. It made him rethink of ever joining the Air Force in the first place. To perform for one’s self was one thing, but to do it in front of over ten thousand people was different. They would watch every move he would make; every mistake he made would be recorded not only on video but would be captured by the minds of the spectators. It was terrifying.
He had trained for over a year getting the routine of the Wonderbolts perfect. Countless hours in the cockpit of his Super Hornet were spent tightening the maneuvers he so badly wanted to get right; needed to get right. He was never late, always got his work done and was all in all a pretty nice guy. There was very little that could be said about him that would ruin the man’s reputation, if anything at all. Yet, after all he has accomplished, he still hasn’t the confidence in himself to see himself performing well. His entire mind snapped to him, failing over and over again. Not only could he slip up on a roll or a dive but he could potentially harm not only himself, but his other teammates or even some of the on-lookers. Too much could go wrong at anytime.
The man looked to his watch again, trying to steady his already twitching hand. He had twenty minutes until he was needed for the preflight ceremony. Twenty minutes was far too long and yet not enough time. It felt like he was on death row and waiting for his turn in the electric chair. At least the electric chair would end his suffering, though. There was just simply too much weight on the man’s mind. He was a support beam, ready at any time to snap under the buildings weight. His sanity wasn’t going to last for another twenty minutes.
Maybe he could just call sick or even break one of hi-
The door behind him creaked open and he spun his head around. Clad in her rich blue and yellow uniform stood his flight leader, Captain Spitfire. She wore an uneasy frown, concern clear in her eyes.
“Soarin?” she asked, her voice taking on an uncharacteristically soft tone. It was also devoid of any militaristic dictation.
The man, once cowering in his lone chair, stood up with rapid attention, turned about face and locked his arms at his sides. His eyes locked forward and his face took on a seemingly stoic expression.
“Ma’am!” he curtly answered. The young woman began to slowly shuffle into the room. Her body language said the she was relaxed and not here for measures and briefings. The young Lieutenant Soarin had never seen her like this, nor had he even been referred to as just Soarin.
“Please, there is no need for formalities right now,” she said calmly. She continued her way around the room until she came upon a simple brown couch placed against the ugly, white wall. Soarin had since dropped his trained response and took back to his previous state.
“Please, have a seat,” the red, haired woman gestured as she herself sat upon the couch. The Lieutenant obliged without an ounce of hesitation and once more sat himself in the uncomfortable chair.
The man had looked upon his commanding officer once more. Her brown eyes were a soothing sight and quite literally ‘easy on the eyes’. Her face spoke of year’s worth of service with every line tracing her face and every blemish she had developed. She didn’t wear any makeup as per military regulation, but then again, there was never a time her saw her wear any. Her golden-red hair was tied neatly back in a bun to allow access to her helmet she would soon wear.
Captain Spitfire’s attitude was usually strong willed which demanded attention and respect. The regular air about her spoke of leadership, commitment and tolerance to only perfection. Wherever she walked the ground seemed to bow to her, humbled she would walk its dirt. The captain that Soarin was witnessing right now seemed like someone else entirely.
“You all right?” she asked. Her voice was like honey to the man’s ears, eardrums being caressed by sheets of silk. Her face, if he couldn’t tell before, was adorned with worry. She did not sit upright in her usual fashion; instead she had taken to copy the man by hunching over herself. Her hands were folded together carelessly. The Lieutenant was certain now that his captain’s body had been taken over by aliens or something of the sort. Aliens were the only things making sense right about now.
“Hey, Soarin. Are you all right? Getting cold feet?” she asked once more. Stunned that his flight leader was acting in such a kind manner, he realized that he hadn’t answered her the first time. He berated himself for just a moment.
“Just a bit nervous, Ma’a-“He cut himself off, remembering she asked to drop the formalities. “Just a little nervous.” He corrected himself.
“Just a little? You look about ready to die in that chair.” She had a mix of playfulness and false shock added to her statement. Her eyebrow was raised and she leaned back against the couch in order to exaggerate her point. She was right though. Even as she intended it as a joke, her observation was very much true, he felt like he was going to explode. “You’ve cooped yourself up in here for the last hour.”
“I’m sorry, ma’-“He started but was cut off.
“No, don’t be.” She said briskly. Her usual commanding tone edged itself toward her voice. Her face contorted into a stern glare for but a fleeting second, but it dropped instantly. Her features returned to its former soft state. “I need to know how you’re holding up.”
Soarin pursed his lips, hanging on to what he might say next. He wanted to say that he was fine and shrug it off; man up. But he respected his flight leader too much to feed her lies. She trusted him, especially with how she was showing him a side of herself that he had never seen. He sure as hell wasn’t going to do anything that would betray her.
“I’m not alright.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I can’t stop shaking, I’m sweating bullets and these thoughts, horrible thoughts keep going at my mind.” His head snapped to her, eyes locking and all the while, his voice rising. “I feel like I’m going to mess up, badly.” His voice was pleading, a dog caught in a bear trap.
“These are just pre-show jitters you’re feeling.” Spitfire stated. “Focus on just you flying; I know how much you love it.” She said, a grin making its way across her face.
“In front of over ten thousand people!” The young man didn’t share her enthusiasm. “What if I mess up? What if I hurt one of them?”
“Soarin, you’re just get-“The captain had begun but was quickly interrupted.
“What if I hurt one of you?” Soarin pressed on. “What if I’m flying and I begin to have a nervo-“He never got to finish the sentence.
“Lieutenant Soarin!” Captain Spitfire barked. “Listen, I know you're scared out of your mind and are probably wanting to quit right about now, but don't let it beat you. Do not give up on, me, your teammates or most importantly yourself. I promise that if you do, you will regret it for the rest of your life.” The young man paused; he sat stock still, just staring at her. Each and every word she had spat at him was beginning to register in his mind. Soarin found no words, no retort; again she was right.
“I’ve been where you are at…” Spitfire broke the silence, although her voice much quieter. The sentence rung out to the man, yet he did not understand. “I’ve been in your place before, terrified, battered and ready to give in.”
Soarin only listened.
“Two years ago I was on break in between shows. I was at home, watching T.V., just trying to relax, you know? It must have been around three in the afternoon when I got a call from one of the other team members, Fleetfoot, saying that our flight leader, Thunder Clap, had been in an accident and was in the hospital.” The Lieutenant had remembered hearing about this on the news, but there was much more to it hearing from second hand. “They found him mangled in between his door and another car and rushed him into the E.R. They tried everything to save his legs, but they just couldn’t.
The woman’s voice began to falter. “He was never going to be able to walk again; he was never going to be able to fly again. With a show that was coming up in a week, we had to continue. Since I was second in line I had no other choice but to take over his job as flight leader. At first I was hesitant, but I took the job.” The frown on face had deepened and thoughts of the past wore on her, forcing its weight unto her. “It was tough; I had to take responsibility over everybody and their actions. Every time there was a new coordination or something that needed paperwork, I was the one to take care of it. When there was a problem everybody looked to me for guidance.”
Spitfire’s eyes had since lain upon the floor, swimming in the bad memories that kept its claw under her stomach. “There were countless times were I didn’t know what to do. There were even more where I wanted to just give up and go back home. I was jittery, irritated, sleep depraved and scared beyond measure. I had the weight of everything the Wonderbolts were bearing down on my body.” She paused, if only slightly and drew in another breath.
“The day before the show I convinced myself that I couldn’t do it all, especially the position being forced on me all of a sudden. I went to visit Captain Thunder Clap in the hospital to tell him that I was quitting. With all the strength he could muster, I remember him encouraging me to stay, saying that I shouldn’t let the fear beat me. He said I should stay, not for my teammates or the fans, but I should stay for me.”
The woman looked back up to Soarin, eyes turning into adamant determination. By the look on the Lieutenant’s face, she knew she was getting to him. The young man didn’t have a look of hollowed fear anymore; instead it was replaced by wonder and a hint of growing confidence. He was starting to get the color back to his skin.
“There was one thing he said however, that I never forgot.” She drew a quick smirk. “He had stopped me right before I walked out. “If you truly love something, to the point that you are willing to give up all you have for it, then it should be no less worthy of scaring you."”
Soarin was at loss for words. Everything he had previously felt had long since washed away. The only remnant of his previous state was the slight shake of excitement he felt before a flight. All he did was wait for her to finish.
“He was right. He knew how much I loved flying. I see that in you as well, the way you get before a flight; it looks like you’ve witnessed Celestia walking across water.” The flight leader propped herself up from the old couch and slowly made her way over toward the door. Soarin rotated his head to follow, waiting for what she had to conclude. “It was my choice to stay or leave back then, and now it is yours. Know that whatever you decide, all of us will be here for you.” And with that she was gone.
Lieutenant Soarin just sat there for what seemed like forever, but what was in reality only a few minutes. He processed the previous engagement over and over again in his mind, searching for every possible meaning. Every thought though, lead to the same answer. He didn’t need to think anymore. He didn’t need to be afraid anymore.
The young man, proud in his cobalt and blonde uniform, stood up and made his way toward the door. Checking his watch he- … He stopped himself. He didn’t even look at the time on the device; he merely looked at the watch itself. He unclipped it from his wrist and threw it at the ugly wall behind him shattering it into multiple pieces.
He drew a breath and walked out of the room.
***
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the man over the P-A system announced “we thank you kindly for waiting patiently and with respect.” There was a pause in the man’s voice and the crowd was audible with few talking far in between. There was a low rumbling noise far off in the distance, barely noticeable to those who weren’t listening for it. “Now without further ado, I present to you, the twenty fourteen Wonderbolts!”
There was an ear shattering thunder and crack as six enormous beasts of metal and might roared over the crowd, just a few hundred feet off of the ground. Bright blue and electric yellow decorated the jet and gave it life to match its performance. The crowd went ballistic with cheers.
The group of six abruptly turned upward and fanned out and began to intertwine with one another as they continued their ascent. Higher and higher they soared as they touched the heaven of blue above. Flying with and beside one another with precision and grace was an inspiring sight. They dove and banked, they flew sideways and inverted and pulled every gee the plane could take. They were some of the best fliers anyone could meet.
And to anyone who didn’t know the difference, it seemed as if there were angels dancing in the sky.
Author's Note
I made this story for a class, so I did have a time frame, but I also didn't feel like adding anything to this was necessary. Its a one-shot, nice and simple and draws from the emotions I used to feel before football games. It's not my best work, but I wanted to share it with you guys.
PS: It had to be in human form otherwise my teacher might have gotten suspicious. I also reverted their names back to what was intended.
