Floater

For her, it had started when she was very young.

At first, it was hardly noticeable. Being only a few millimetres off the ground was, as she came to realise, barely evident. For her, it became apparent that when walking on flat, solid ground, she made no noise. It was a source of amusement that most of the time she could do it without her friends knowing that she was actually doing it. At that age it was evident that her peers would poke fun at any kid that was a little bit different. She had supposed this went with childhood. So, having witnessed this nasty attitude being carried out by those she regarded as friends, it was seen as compulsory that she keep it to herself. Anyway, that’s how it started. In fact, that’s the way it was going to be as life went on.

This code of silence once set, stayed in place without her giving it a second thought. As she grew up none of her friends or parents or relations knew what she could do. In fact, there wasn’t a living sole who had the slightest inkling that she was a floater. Throughout her teenage years she had dived into the occasional bit of research, reading about everything from the writings and recordings of African Shamans to everyday people, who claimed to be able to levitate.

Looking back, it was during her late teens that her abilities had progressed to a point where she could rise several inches off the ground. It wasn’t until her late thirties that she had fully mastered the method of drifting up from a horizontal position. Once this was attained, it had become her favourite activity. This was followed by a long stretch of status quo. Through her forties, fifties and sixties, there had been little motive to take the thing any further. To float up, a meter or so from her bed was such an enjoyable experience that she had never asked for more.

The fact that she’d always lived alone and had never married allowed her to continue to privately practice and revel in the attribute, while maintaining the secrecy that had always surrounded it.

Now, in her eighties, and knowing that her life was coming to an end, without offering any practical proof, she considered asking a friend to write a short story about it and have him post it on his blog…

17 thoughts on “Floater”

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