Without Wings Chapter 4 -- A Maximum Ride Story

Image Credit: Travis G., New Ulm, MN The author's comments: Please leave comments, good or bad. After I was done crying (so embarrassing) I pulled Fang off to the side to tell him my plan. Angel tried to follow us, but I threatened to rip her wings off and throw her off the mountain. I’m pretty sure I scarred her for life. “What do want to talk about?” Fang asked. “My wings.” “Last time I checked they were gone.” I started choking him and he yelled, “Kidding!” I let him go and I gave him my plan. He thought it over, and then he said, “Switching Jeb for your wings. It’s too risky. So much could go wrong.” “It’s the only way!” I yelled. “You can’t do it.” “You don’t know how this feels! I feel so…so alone.” I stopped talking. I was on the verge of another breakdown. Two in thirty minutes. A new record for me. I got hold of myself before the tears came and I squeaked out, “How can I stay with the flock without my wings?” And, for once, he didn’t have an answer.


Her father noticed she was still playing with the pile of tea bags. “Shall we put them away now, darling?” “Leave them. They’re my friends.” She had discovered beings that exactly resembled her true form, albeit of limited intelligence. Her next report would certainly create a stir on the mothership. David Mark Williams lives in … Continue reading DAVID MARK WILLIAMS: Tea Bags →


18: The pelican on my shoulder reminds me to slow things down, live calmly. 25: The snake slithering up my arm symbolizes willful and unapologetic action. 33: The rose on my wrist shows me that beauty can stem from new beginnings. “Dad, what do your tattoos mean?” “Nothing,” I say. Jonah Ardiel lives and writes … Continue reading JONAH ARDIEL: Tattoo →

SARA JACOBELLI: Saturday Nights at the Tropicana

We’d ride uphill past the tavern in Poppy’s ancient Cadillac. I pictured a tuxedo-clad Ricky Ricardo crooning love songs to Lucy, twirling on the dance floor, backed up by a big band. I’d wave to the hollow-eyed scratching junkies slouched against the wall. They’d wave back, baffled by the attention. Sara Jacobelli lives in New … Continue reading SARA JACOBELLI: Saturday Nights at the Tropicana →


The architects studied the plans for the umpteenth time. There was something missing, but what was it? Gabriel turned the drawings upside down and then Michael turned them sideways. “This won’t work. It will fall apart,” they both agreed. “Just get on with it,” sighed God. “It’s not that important.” Patrick Mc Loughlin is an … Continue reading PATRICK MC LOUGHLIN: Cowboy Builders →


Fibonacci was fascinated by spirals. Mathematical patterns in flower petals, repetitive details in seashells – Nature’s inescapable, infinite cycles. As I hear you arguing with your father, drink-fuelled tempers curdling love to spite, I wonder: are we all like this? Caught in eternal circles, passing around the point where we began. Jo Withers writes micros, … Continue reading JO WITHERS: Spirals →