The Flight of Flea

When he was young and heard the stories of the mythical birds and flying beasts of legend, he imagined himself as one of them.  Powerful, ferocious, graceful, wise, and heroic.  He imagined that one day, he would grow up to be like Phoenix, with its flaming wings and healing tears.  He dreamed of being like Quetzlcóatl, worshipped by the two-leggers who otherwise ruled over all other beasts.  When he heard the stories of Garuda, he was Garuda, flying the ancient gods to and fro on their quests.  The thunderbird.  The trickster raven.  The creator heron known as Benu.

He was in awe of them all.  And he wanted to learn to acquire their qualities.  Cleverness, strength, knowledge.  And wings so magnificent that all creatures great and small were gripped with awe at their sight.

But whenever he would voice such longings, he was always ridiculed, for he was so small that all who knew him called him the flea bird, and soon that became his name, “Flea.”

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The Potion of Allegory

My name is Perry Verdilay. In a single act of reckless desperation, I changed my perception of the world. And maybe gave myself a condition, a curse, a burden that I may not be strong enough to bear. I can see things that others can only feel or imagine. I’ve been this way for about nine months now. And something happened recently that made me doubt myself, made me doubt what I’d been seeing. That made me think it was about time I asked for help. That was an easy decision. The hard decision was choosing whom to tell and whom to ask for that hel

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