Warren looked in confusion at the scepter before him. It had a simple, foot-long wooden handle, and it’s top end was tipped with sandstone, holding a small diamond in its center. Not only was this a far more expensive object than he ever remembered buying, but it had apparently appeared in the middle of the night, next to his latest rejected sculpture.
He picked it up, looking it over more closely. All that he could find from this that he couldn’t at a simple glance was that it was fairly light, and easy to move around.
“Where did you come from?” He thought to himself. He checked the doors and windows of his apartment for any signs of intrusion, in case some thief had dropped off some stolen goods in his place to throw off anyone looking to get it back. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Warren had no idea how an item like this could have found its way into his apartment. A strange object appearing out of nowhere this morning, that incomprehensible dream he’d been having the past few nights… He was feeling more and more on edge, and the fact that he hadn’t sold a piece in over a month was not helping things.
He sighed, and looked it over again. If that was a real diamond in there, maybe he could pawn it off, and pay for another meal or two. But in the meantime, he needed a moment to clear his head. He picked up a bag containing his camera, binoculars, and a handful of other supplies, in his right hand, absentmindedly keeping the scepter in his left. He stepped out of his apartment to head to the roof, for a quick breather, and maybe a look around the city for inspiration for his next sculpture. “Not that anyone would end up buying it.” He thought to himself.
The skies were clear and cloudless, and the air was chilly as Warren climbed the last steps and opened the door the roof. He loved watching the sunrise from here, and the view provided a nice way to look over the people of the city, a frequent source of inspiration for him.
Since he was a teenager, Warren had always dreamed of being a sculptor. To take some seemingly normal pile of rock, and find the beautiful carvings within it, creating works that would live on for generations after he had passed… the concept filled him with a sense of hope and purpose. His parents had discouraged it, of course, telling him that he would end up just another starving artist. And for a while, he had listened to them. He went to college, earned a business degree, and worked a white collar job for a good twenty years. But as he entered his forties, he found he couldn’t fight his old dream anymore. He went back to college, learned the techniques he had dreamed to use for so long, then quit his job, and began to create.
Now he was starting to wish he had kept listening to his parents. The world of art no longer seemed to care about finding beauty, or permanence: Everything was simply about redefining what art meant, or “pushing the limits,” or worse, mocking the very idea that things like beauty or joy or goodness existed beyond being concepts of the human imagination. His works frequently found themselves without a home. And while he had been frugal with the money he had made during his earlier years, he wouldn’t be able to sustain himself on it forever. As much as he hated to think of it, maybe it was time to finally throw in the towel.
As he was stood there, thinking over his life choices, he noticed someone on the roof of the building across the street, out of the corner of his eye. He turned to have a look, not used to seeing people up there. Bringing up his binoculars, he saw a young woman, walking slowly across the roof. There was a look in her eyes that he had seen before, a look that filled him with dread. He ran to the edge of the building.
“Wait! Stop! It’s not worth it!”
If the woman could hear him, she gave no indication, as she continued her slow walk toward the edge of distant roof.
Warren cursed. He had to stop this some way. Any way! As he clenched his fist in frustration, the diamond in the scepter he held began to glow, particles of sand forming seemingly from thin air, and swirling around it’s head. Warren nearly dropped the object in shock, but steadied his grip.
“What on Earth is this?” Was it some kind of magic? Was he just seeing things? He shook his head. He didn’t have time for this, he had to think of something! Think! Think!
He looked at the object again. If this was some kind of magic, perhaps it could do something to stop that woman from going over the edge. Hold her back, give her wings, something!
He hastily raised the rod and swung it down, pointing in her general direction, and imagined the woman taking flight, instead of a plunge. As he did, a whirlwind of sand rushed from around the rod, across the gaps between the buildings, and began to surround the woman.
---
On the other roof, the young woman continued her walk. The wind seemed to pick up around her, but something about the sand’s magic kept her from seeing it as it flew all around her, brushing against her body in seemingly random spots.
It’ll all be over soon, she thought. The endless loops in her head would finally be silent in a mere five steps. Five more steps until freedom.
Useless child.
Always disappointing.
Hideous wretch.
Waste of space.
Who will miss you?
The intrusive thoughts looped in her mind, as they had for years. She thought, for a moment, that she felt a heaviness not just in her heart, but her whole body, but she quickly brushed it off. The sand rushed along her face, each spot a grain collided with being cleared of dust, and revealing a shimmering substance beneath. Her steps slowed a little more, though her stride did not change; she was still only four steps from freedom.
Useless youth.
Perpetual disappointment.
Hideous woman.
Just taking up space.
Who can miss you?
The whirlwind of sand continued its course, wearing her clothes down to tatters, before blowing them away completely. The young woman only felt a slight breeze, not even realizing she had been rendered nude. Meanwhile, her torso, like her head, now shone with a brilliant golden color. The growing weight and wind on her body didn’t seem out of place to her, and she continued to focus on her approaching destiny. Three steps from freedom.
You endless youth.
You perpetual inspiration.
You glorious woman.
What do you bring to this space?
Who can miss one that stands out like you do?
The young woman’s legs were buffeted by the sand, revealing the shimmering metal form beneath bit by bit. Her thighs took a texture not unlike feathers, while her calves were thinned down, and given a slight scaley texture. Her feet grew thinner as well, her toes stretching out, extending into hawk-like talons. These new talons brought her two steps away from the ledge. Two steps from the end of all motion. Two steps from the freedom she sought.
You endless youth, forever shining.
You perpetual inspiration, always a source of hope.
You glorious woman, your natural beauty sets hearts soaring.
You fill the space with excitement and wonder.
Who can miss a glamourous creation such as you?
The young harpy’s arms became wider and longer, as the sand beat away at any of the remaining dust that once was her skin, putting the true, golden splendor beneath on full display. Her talons now on the corner of the building, she spread her wings wide, as hundreds of elegant, gleaming feathers took form on them. It had all come to this. It was time to take the final step, and accept her newfound freedom!
Even as her heartbeat and breathing had slowed to nothing, the harpy had never felt more alive! Her left talon fused to the golden pedestal that had formed below her, now just as much a part of her as any other. Her right talon was lifted as if in mid-take-off, her her wings spread out to catch the wind below her. Her chest was held out proudly, and her face now bore a smile full of the wonder she felt inside.
Anything the woman was before did not matter now. From here on, she was the Freedom of Flight. The wind was always under her wings. All who looked up at her could practically feel the excitement and energy radiating off her, giving a sense of hope and release. Her natural allure and gorgeous wings would be able to capture the hearts and minds of those that looked upon her for generations to come. She no longer remembered her depression, or what had driven her to this rooftop in the first place; it no longer mattered. All that mattered was that she had found, no, now embodied, the freedom she had sought, and would continue to do so for eternity.
---
As the whirlwind dissipated, Warren watched with baited breath, hoping against hope the woman was alright. When he saw nothing but a golden statue in the shape of a harpy where the woman once was, though, he reeled back in horror.
“No… No no! I was trying to save her… And all I did…” Did he truly only end up killing her a different way, inflicting some curse of Midas on her? He tried to wave the scepter again, only for nothing to happen. He waved it again. Nothing. “Maybe if I get closer, I can do something then… Maybe it’s just holding her in place until I can get close enough to let her hear me.” He tried to reassure himself. Grasping the object tighter, he ran to the elevator, and began his way down, to the building across the street.
After an anxious crossing of the road, and another elevator ride up, he came into view of the statue once more. He ran up to it, waving the scepter again. “Come on! Reverse! Undo it!” He fell to his knees, a few steps in front of her. He shook his head. It wasn’t working. He placed his hand on the statue’s back. “I am so, so sorry.”
“Sorry for what, my creator?” A female voice rang in his head, and warren leapt back in surprise. When he didn’t hear the voice again, he hesitantly reached out and touched the statue again.
“Did you just speak to me?”
“Of course, my creator! But what were you apologizing for?”
“I… I thought I had trapped you in a statue…”
“Trapped me?” The statue’s voice seemed to laugh. “Was it not you that freed me from being a simple lump of metal? You helped me find my true self, as The Freedom of Flight, so that those around me would be inspired to soar to new heights as I do. What more could I ask for?”
“But… But now you can’t move, like any flesh and blood woman.”
“Why would I need to? Up here, above the city, I can bring hope to the people below for decades, even centuries to come! I wouldn’t give this up for the world.”
“You… Like it?”
“Why wouldn’t I my creator? You do not need to apologize for bringing me into being. You should be out creating more works like me! There are many people that have beautiful works of art trapped inside them. You can help them awaken into their true selves, and fill the world with beauty, and hope, and inspiration! And each new work can inspire others to create more.”
Warren took his hand back, and looked back to the scepter in his hand. The woman had been ready to take her own life, but as a statue, she seemed to have a love for her existence that he had rarely seen in anyone living. Could she really have been right? Could this scepter truly help inspire people to seek beauty in art again? And even improve the lives of those it changed?
He looked out over the shoulder of The Freedom of Flight, at the vast city before him, considering what he would do with this gift he had been given.