fly like paper | high like planes [matt]

I had moved back to my bed after letting the plane float out of the window. Sleep was not welcoming yet, but that was logical as I had just woken up. Sleep, exercise and writing were the only things that I could do to pass my time. Except for the odd time when the psychiatrist would stop by and ask to speak to me. Then I could at least see people, even if it scared me. He believed I had more of an issue than my mother. At least I could come to terms with the fact that I wasn't normal. She just couldn't accept that I was this way now. I guess I liked that she was protective because it gave me a reason to not go outside. I could blame it on her and then just ignore the fact that I was the one afraid of being judged. Yeah, it was just better this way.

And on the odd occasion, there would be a knock at the door, followed by a bit of chatter from my mother and the guest. However, as I heard the tap tap tap on the door and then heard no chatter, I began to get suspicious. The mail route wasn't supposed to come by today, and even then we barely got anything. So, it couldn't have been mail? Pushing myself off the bed, I made my way over to the solid door of my room. I pressed my ear against it carefully, only to hear the loud footsteps of my mother as she made her way up the stairs. I could tell that she wasn't in a good mood today. Although, she's always in a bad mood.

I stepped back just in time. My door swung open, revealing my mother. Her hand was slightly raised, clutching a letter tightly. "This appears to be for you." She muttered rather blandly. Her dark brown hair bounced as she spoke. It was still wrapped around her curlers. Her robe was wrapped tightly around her slim frame and her bare feet were positioned so all her weight was on one. Her dark brown eyes, surrounded by lines due to her age, watched me carefully. "Uh, t-thanks." I stutter, my voice just barely coming out. The deep voice is different from what I usually hear, which is my mother or her female friends that she gossips with. Online one deep voice was in the house once, but I could only hear him for an hour before he left. I didn't want to know what they did.

"Why are you getting letters?" She asked, seeming to glare at me. How would I know the answer to that? I didn't even know what it was. "I d-don't know. Can I have i-it please?" She seemed to debate it for a minute before handing the letter to me. I immediately clutched it tightly between my chest and arm. "This better be the last." She seemed to growl before slamming the door closed, locking it and making her way back down the stairs.

The writing on the front of the envelope was neat and almost elegant, at least compared to mine. I finally revealed the words, which I began to carefully read. It shocked me. Somebody had discovered my letter, that somebody being my neighbor. I had never met the girl before, so it was surprising to see how friendly her tone of writing was. I slowed down as I read her name. Ellea Channelle Banks. The beautiful name was then written out on a new page by my hand. She was my neighbor if she was a Banks child. I had heard my mother say the name once. And now she was the one who was willing to hear my thoughts. So, I wrote.

Miss Ellea Banks,

It is an honor to make your acquaintance, although through the form of words only. Perhaps one day we will meet, but for now I think it is for the best like this. The word you spoke of in your response, love, is one that I've rarely heard. However, I do see your point. But I'm sure it's not due to beauty as you believe it is. I have never laid eyes upon you before but I'm sure that you are beautiful as everybody is beautiful in their own way. Well, most are. I cannot explain the shock that I faced earlier when I received your letter, but it has definitely been the highlight of a day that was looking to be bad. I appreciate your response and your friendly words. I will look forward to a response as well Miss Banks, but do not feel obligated to.

- Ashton Kingsley

I finished with my name, placing the pencil back down on the table. Then, once again, I folded it up and sent it out the window, aiming it towards the house next door this time. Hopefully it would reach the girl again and she could read my words again. And suddenly, everything seemed to be...good. I could finally speak and I finally had somebody to open up to. And if timed correctly, my mother would be out to work soon. That meant I could get the letter without worrying about my mother's curious eyes reading it. If only I could get the door to stay unlocked...

Careful planning was required to keep the door unlocked. For most, it would be done through a simple request. However, in the case of my mother, I needed to be more creative and inventive. The pad of paper sat in front of me on the soft cherry wood desk. I could see a slight reflection of my charred face. Rough ridges were sprawled across my face, massacring any facial details that I might have previously possessed. My eyes sit in their sockets, which are slightly sunken back, whilst the chocolate brown orbs were pointed back at me. It took a bit for me to actually register that the one beautiful thing in that reflection did actually belong to me. My eyes were not scarred like the rest of my face or my thoughts. No, I was lucky to still have them.

The sound of footsteps gets louder. Perfect. My mother has returned to say something else surely. Now would be the only chance to receive another letter from Ellea. If only I could keep the door unlocked or opene- "Ashton, I'll be out all night. He's your food.". My mother's voice was calm and still, as if it didn't bother her at all that she kept her only son locked up in a room day in and day out. I took the small tray of food from her hands, carefully laying it down on my bed. It was the usual. A rough looking loaf of bread that had probably expired last week, a mushy pile of carrots and peas and a small piece of cooked chicken. It usually varied each and every night to a small degree though. Different vegetables or different meat. But it was such a small difference that I just grew to not care.

"T-thanks Mom. Hope you have fun." I utter quietly, trying not to look her in the eyes. She stood there for a bit longer, her weight shifting on to the other foot as she chewed on her cheek. Then she quietly turned around, making her way towards the door. That's when I made my move. Slowly but accurately, I snatched the fork from my plate. And just as she shut the door closed, I jammed it into the hole in the lock, hoping that it would be deep enough to stop the bolt from locking. This was the only thing I could think of and I just hoped it might work. Otherwise, I'd be hopping out the window to get it. My mom would kill me if I received another and she intercepted it, surely. And while it pained me to say that, it was true.

I listened to her as she made her way back down the stairs. It only took a few moments for the door to open and then close again, announcing her leave. I stood by the door for a few more moments, listening for any sound that could mean she returned. Then I proceeded with turning the door knob for the first time in a while. A cold burst of air splashed across my face. It felt soothing. I let the door swing back on the hinges, allowing me a full view of my staircase. It hadn't changed since I saw it last many years ago. Making my way to the top of it, I felt a new feeling inside me. Joy. It was good to see my house once again. Finally. I let out a small laugh at how stupid that sounded and then made my way down the stairs. With each step, I saw more and more of my home, my smile growing larger and larger.

But the biggest shock was when I stepped down onto the main floor and heard the mail slot open. I jumped back behind the wall, only to see a paper airplane fly into the room. She responded. I smile again, making my way slowly to the paper. I quickly snatched it up off the ground, made my way back up the stairs and then plopped down on my bed, being careful not to drop the food. But now that I had access to the kitchen, I could get anything I wanted. I really doubted that I could be any happier. It was different, feeling this way. But I liked it. And I had only started feeling it since I received the first response from Ellea Banks.

My fingers pull the airplane apart carefully, my eyes noticing the extra paper right away. I pulled it out and observed the picture. She's young. That was the first thought that popped into my head. Although, I guess she hinted at that in the letter. Still, it made it even worse that I found her absolutely breath taking. The only people I could ever look at often enough were myself and my mother, which means that I've only ever seen unattractive people. This girl was beautiful though. I slipped the photo behind the letter, wishing to read her words once again. And after seeing her name signed in her elegant writing once more, I prepared myself to write another letter.

Miss Ellea Banks,

My name is Ashton Oliver Kingsley. I apologize that I had not said it before. As for being beautiful, I can truly say now that my words were correct. Beauty isn't always on the outside, but it appears that you are beautiful in both areas. You have to understand that when I say we cannot meet, it is against my will. It is just safer this way. I have to ask why you bother to respond. I can't be very interesting and I'm sure there are others who would be better to spend your time on. You see, I've never been one who communicates well. Especially to people as stunning as you. Unfortunately, I have run out of time to write. I will await for your response patiently.

Sincerely,
Ashton Kingsley

Just like before, I made the letter into an airplane and then made my way to my window. And with a swift flick of the wrist, the plane was sent back over to Ellea.