Fiction
13
Paradise by Rachel Schutte
T
he old man, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and snow white hair cascading in a braid down his back, decided it was time to leave. Taking the final step off the cliff, he waited for the wind to catch in his wings, soaring off across the jungle valley. They said between the two mountains, where they dove into the earth together, one would find paradise. After two hundred years of war, paradise sounded pretty good. Sebastian was a simple man. He loved the air, where everything was peaceful. With the wind rushing past his ears and tearing at his clothes, he could forget the blood on his hands that stained his heart. His land had been at war since he was a child, and he had tried for so long not to get involved. Eventually he was dragged into the army. He blinked away tears, felt them stream across the sides of his face before they disappeared into the wind. He did so many horrible things in the king’s service. Not at first, of course. He had remained true to his morals for a time, but the lines began to blur, as they often do. The atrocities got worse, and before he knew it he was a monster. He hated himself. He needed to escape. Now, wind in his wings, headed for paradise, he could. As the hours stretched on, and the mountain slowly crept closer, Sebastian began to tire. He willed his wings to stay open, the reds, blues, and yellows of his feathers pressed against the vast blue sky. He blinked hard, balling his hands into fists, as if he could fight away the fatigue with his hands. It was an absurd notion, of course, and he knew that, but he had to make it. Maybe if he closed his eyes for just a moment, he could summon the strength to keep going. He let his heavy eyelids drop shut. When he opened them again, he felt his heart clench. The ground was rushing towards