Paper Airplane Ashes

A boy sat under a hazy sun, paper airplane in hand.  Words stretched along the creases, telling of a world he wished he knew: one of a golden sun you couldn’t meet the gaze of, fields full of green grass and wildflowers, and sparkling blue seas.

Now, in dulled fire-proof armor that barely shone, the boy was surrounded by overgrown and charred sea grass.  The tips of the blades glowed with fire, ash and smoke wandering through the air.  The ocean stretched ahead of him, but it was filled with military craft and explosions that rained into the sloshing gray water.

The boy clutched his airplane tighter and looked up at the sky, in a way hoping his eyes would get burned by a brilliant sun.  But the same darkened veil hung between him and the star that had been there all his life.  He let out a sigh, and it caused floating embers to twirl.  He wished he could rise as they did, fluttering endlessly(as he perceived) until they were high enough to become naturally scorched.  He had always wondered what it would be like to see the earth from above, and wanted to know if there was something more to the constant artificial blaze.

Standing up, the boy pinched his dream-stamped paper airplane one last time before releasing it to soar into the sky.  As the knee-high flaming grass became a sea around him, the boy watched as his airplane caught fire mid-flight.  It continued to soar, though, leaving behind a trail of ash that floated through the air.  The boy let a flake land in his outstretched palm, one containing a single readable word:

A word that brought both a smile to his face and tears to his eyes;

One that made his hopes both soar and come crashing down to reality.