He stares at the field before him and begins his morning stretches. He can imagine it all already — the stands filled with loud cheering, all the people bearing colours of white, blue and red, the crowd going wild, chanting his name and waving their banners proudly.

It wouldn’t be the first time and the crowd is aware, they know he will do it again. He will run past all the other contestants, mocking the winds and watching the crowd become a blur as adrenaline rushes throughout his body.

This is the closest he can ever come to flying. But to Rayaan, this is the definition of flying, sprinting at an incredible pace, defying gravity.

“Why would I need wings when I’ve got such amazing, strong legs?” these are one of the prideful thoughts Rayaan has every time he runs.

And as he starts running when the race starts, he fills his mind with more thoughts of how easy the win will be. To him, his rivals today are weak. They are not as strong as him and his charisma is unmatched to any other. He is infamous for his arrogance, but makes up for it by proving to be one of the world’s best athletes.

Finishing the lap at a spectacular pace, he sees the white ribbon zooming closer, the ribbon that marks the finishing line. He feels his body yearn to cross it. He needs to win as much as he needs air to breathe. He dashes as fast as lightening, leaving all the other runners behind with a smirk.

As he does so, he feels as if he is almost flying. Rayaan barely feels his legs graze the ground below him, and the voice of the crowd blends in with the sound of the wind that’s crashing into him. With his legs making him take flight over the track, he rips the white ribbon, and the crowd roars as he crosses the line. The confetti blasts and sirens can be heard when the commentator announces Rayaan’s victory.

Though Rayaan is mentally aware of his win, his body seems to have not taken notice. The crowd watches in confusion as he keeps sprinting with the white ribbon now wrapped around him.

“Why is he still running? Hadn’t he won? What’s going on?” Both the audience and the runner are beyond bewildered.

Rayaan finds it difficult to stop himself from running, his body burns under the immense pressure, he feels as his heart’s pounding rings in his ears. He can’t think of any other way to stop his legs, cut off the wings that let him fly. One of his legs has the ribbon wrapped around it.

He tilts his body to the side, shifting all the weight on to it and stepping on the ribbon. The moment he hits it with all his might, his body goes into extreme shock, shutting down immediately ... that is until he hears the sound of a heartbeat monitor.

The distant sound of his heart rate beeping echoes. Then a voice, muffled and clamped, says, “I’m very sorry, but Rayaan is currently incapable of running.”

Then he sees it all clearly — a kind but closed-off face of a man stares at him with pity, in a white coat, wearing a set of glasses with a clipboard in hand.

His eyes drift off to the white walls, all so dull; his heart falls to his stomach. His sight begins to blur, and he realises tears have started to form. He quietly sobs as pain shoots up from his messed up leg covered in bandages.

“Is this the end of my world?” he wonders fearfully. He envisions the moment when he’s just about to reach the white silky ribbon, but his fingers only grasp the empty air.

A heart-wrenching cry comes from him as he barely manages to get up when the nurse helps him from the bed. His pupils are shifting again, trying to see every corner and inch of the room. The cheers grow more distant until all he can hear is his parched breathing. The stands are empty, and as the nurse seats him down to exit along with the doctor, there is no one there, no one except him. Him and the wheelchair, where his wings retire.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 12th, 2022