Flight of Fancy

It took a good few days to gather everything that was necessary for the project. There was a lot of time spent on the road, visiting this junkyard and that, this person and that one, having to speak to all sorts of annoying people and listen to their nonsensical views of the world. The worst thing of all was having to come up with excuses of what the items would be used for. There were some beauty in the mix: his wife collected it, it was a hobby, you can never have enough of that thing and so on and so forth.

At the end of the day, he was glad to get everything needed for close to nothing. True, not much wood had been sorted for the Winter, but it would get done eventually. Nobody had been suspicious or asking any pesky and uncomfortable questions.

All the items had to be hidden in the little forest, where he would be chopping and sawing the wood. He still didn’t fathom what could possibly become of this pile of rubbish. He had to admit that fact to himself. If anyone saw it, they would think it was a stinking, worthless pile of rubbish.

He secured the items under a tarpaulin, in a secluded part of the forest, put heavy rocks around, so no animals would touch it and camouflaged it with Autumn leaves, so it wouldn’t look too conspicuous to potential passers-by.

There weren’t many people who came to their little remote forest, perhaps only a neighbour once a year in Summer, but it was better to be safe.

He still wasn’t quite sure why he wanted it to remain a secret. It merely seemed right in his mind. He hadn’t really been listening to his intuitions… ever, so he decided this was a good time to start, especially because the feeling was so strong and persistent.

That night as he went to bed, he thought he was too excited for sleep to bring much required rest. It did in fact take quite some time, but once it came, he had the same warm dream of flying. All his worries were gone and he somehow knew everything would turn out alright.