In a "perfect" utopia where everyone has unfoldable wings on their backs, a girl is born with immobile wings. When she finds out on her 15th birthday (when everyone is expected to fly for the first time) she is sent to an underground prison with other crippled Airrace. Turns out, the Utopia is perfect for a reason...
The wind kissed my face, tainted with the smells of the city below me. I took a deep breath. This was the moment I'd been waiting 15 years for. Today I would fly.
I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders in preparation. It was a perfect day. The skyway was clear, what with the adults busy at work, and the fluffy clouds were scarce. So, what was I waiting for? I ran to the edge of the skyscraper and jumped.
My heart leapt into my throat and I wheezed, shocked at the sting of the air all around me. The intricate skybuildings I passed were reduced to waves of color and light. As I fell, I tried to recall everything that Mr. Carson told me. Count to ten, then unfold your wings. Simple as that.
1, 2, 3...
I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of my raggedy t-shirt shirt sleeves snapping around my arms.
I leveled myself into a horizontal position so that my wings with have resistance when they opened.
I'd have to remember this feeling.
I let loose the muscles locking my wings in place at my back. I was rewarded by the sweet sound of my left wing unfurling and catching the wind. But something went wrong. My right wouldn't unfurl. It was stuck, still connected to my back through the tailored t-shirt. I banked sharply and began spinning, thrown off balance by my one gossamer wing.
The ground came up on me all too fast. I landed on my left shoulder and topped over, the breath knocked out of my lungs and my left wing breaking beneath me with a horrifying crunch.
End of the line, Moone, I thought to myself before blacking out entirely.