There was once a little boy who lived on the twenty-fifth floor of a building with his mother and two older sisters. He was a happy and friendly child, loved by all who crossed his path. There was one thing, however, that truly troubled this youth. He could not for the life of him understand why birds and planes should enjoy the privilege of flight while he, poor human, should be forever confined to the ground. So much did his fate of being a victim of gravity anguish him that he would, for hours on end, sit on the roof of their building or on a patch of grass, whenever there was one to be found, and stare miserably up at the sky.
One day, as he was walking to school with his sisters, he passed an elderly beggar sitting leisurely against a telephone pole. He was immediately intrigued by the fact that this beggar was staring at the heavens in the very same fashion that he himself was accustomed to doing. His sisters did not notice when he stopped and they soon disappeared into the throng of people. After a few seconds, the old man felt the eyes on him and tore his gaze away from the sky and toward our little boy.
“I do beg your pardon,” the boy started, as he was not one easily accused of being shy. “What is it that you were staring at just now?”
The beggar glanced up once more and then replied, “Is it not quite obvious that I was staring at the sky?”
“Yes, Sir, but what exactly were you thinking of while you were staring at the sky?”
“And what business, may I ask, is it of a young boy’s where a lonely old vagrant chooses to stare, and why he chooses to stare at that thing?”
“None, Sir, but still, I dearly wish to know.”
“Very well. I was thinking of the birds, and whether or not they’d be any good as a meal.”
Being slightly disgusted and not knowing what to reply, the boy started looking about for his sisters. He realised for the first time that he had lost them and became worried. Seeing his expression, the old man immediately regretted his severe words and decided to attempt to fix his error.
“I am only joking, son; please pay no heed to what I say! I am not accustomed to conversing with strangers, you see, and, therefore, I am not very good at it. What I was truly pondering was how lucky the dear birds are to own the privilege of flight!”
The boy’s eyes lighted up once more. “Indeed!” he exclaimed. “And how unfair that is! If only I could find a way to join them, I shall be the happiest creature in the universe.”
The beggar laughed at this and replied, “Indeed you will! Why, have I myself not enjoyed that privilege long ago, and did it not make me the happiest being in the universe!”
The boy stared at him in utter disbelief and amazement. “Pray tell me, Sir, how did you accomplish this? Were you in a plane?”
“Oh no, child, I had no aid of machinery at all!”
“But this is impossible, Sir! How can one fly without wings? It is simply impossible.”
“My, my, what a terribly practical mind you have for your age. That is a very bad thing to have, you know. Does your mother never read you stories?”
“I am afraid not, Sir. And you see, I have pondered the trouble of flying for some time, and I can find no other reason than to believe it impossible.”
“Oh my, this is indeed very bad! Well then, let me tell you at once how I came to soar the skies for a few lucky hours.”
“When I was much younger, I came across a perfect stranger – much like you came across me today – and started conversing with him – much like you and I are doing now. He soon told me that he had a secret; a way to enable a human to fly. He said it was simple. All one had to do was drink a special potion, mixed by the aspiring flyer’s own hands, and then you were set to take off.”
“Please, Sir, please!” the boy yelled, “give me the ingredients of this wonderful potion at once!”
The beggar chuckled mischievously. “It is this: half a teaspoon of cough syrup – so that you are able to catch your breath once you see the splendid views from up top. Three grains of sugar – for energy, as flying could get rather exhausting after a while. A fly – this is the most important ingredient of all, so be sure to take biggest one you can find.
“Mixed together, these three ingredients will interact with each other and create the magic. Once you drink it, you must wait a short while for it to settle and then simply close your eyes and concentrate on flying. When you open them again, you will already be floating a few feet from the ground.”
The boy stared at the dirty beggar with awe. As he was about to open his mouth to thank him, he was suddenly assaulted from behind. It was his two sisters who had been frantically searching for him everywhere these past few minutes.
As he was then swept away by them and their shrills of anger in the direction of school, he could think of nothing other than these three things: cough syrup, sugar and one fat fly.
That night, he could speak of nothing but his newfound knowledge to his mother and siblings.
When his mother tucked him into bed, she said to him, “My dearest boy! I do not know why the beggar told you this lie! It is the most absurd thing I have ever heard in my life. Now go to bed, my sweetest, and forget all this nonsense at once.” She kissed his forehead, turned off his light, and retired to her own bed for the evening.
* * *
The next morning, as the boy’s mother was brewing her routine cup of coffee, she noticed that the pot of sugar was on the floor and next to it was, not surprisingly, a bottle of cough mixture. She sighed, finished her coffee, and set off to wake up her dear little son.
What silly notions this child has developed, she now thought. Flying, of all things! She knew he would not be asleep, as he had obviously been busying himself in the kitchen, and imagined that she might easily find him sitting on top of his cupboard with his Spiderman pyjamas and his tiny arms spread out wide.
She entered and saw that he was, indeed, not in his bed.
He was nowhere to be seen.
She continued to the TV room to find he was not there either. She then entered her daughters’ shared room, but still found no trace of him!
“What is it, Mother?” cried the girls in unison, realising something was not quite right.
Her knees became suddenly weak and she collapsed on a chair by the window. She had searched their entire apartment. For her to continue searching outside it was incredibly daunting, for outside it lay an entire city! Where, oh where, could her dear little boy be? The two girls stared at her, waiting anxiously for an answer.
She now had her back turned to them and they could see her shoulders shaking as she started to cry. She was now rocking back and forth. Suddenly, she froze. Her chair gave way from under her and she fell limply to the ground. She had fainted.
It took the frantic girls nearly an hour to revive her. After that, it took them nearly another hour to retrieve some intelligent information from her trembling lips. When they ran to the window, they were finally able to see what had horrified her so. There, thirty storeys down on the sidewalk, was a small spot of red and blue surrounded by a big crowd, two ambulances and one hearse.
Marie van Rooyen 