Lyrics The Wings That Fly Us Home

He was an arrogant and cold man but he cherished her the most. She was beautiful and innocent. She felt safe only in his strong arms as he used to protect her from the cruelty and ugliness of the world. "Why are you so good to me?", she used to ask him while blinking her beautiful and innocent eyes. "Because you live here", he pointed at his heart. But life is not a fairytale for everyone. "Sky! Where are you going??", Elliot asked her while grabbing her arm. "I can't live here anymore", Sky said as she stood in the heavy rain. "But where will you go??", he panicked. "I don't have any home now, everyone has abandoned me. I'll go wherever destiny takes me", Sky said as she looked away. "But, didn't you say? I'm your home." Elliot asked with immense love and affection in his eyes. Sky bit her lips for a while but then she asked, " what about your family?" "You are my family Sky!!! You're my everything." Elliot held her tightly as he said that. Finally she smiled while crying heavily as she hugged him back, thinking about him being the only person she could trust. As she was sure, he won't abandon her no matter what. But, no one knows what future holds for them! A shadow sneered while looking at them, "I'll see how long she's gonna stay here, I'll make her life a living hell!" She took out her phone and dialled someone's number, "Is it Sean Hill?" "Yes, who's this?", the man asked arrogantly. "I know who you've been searching for your whole life! And I guess, I've found her", she said with an evil smile as she looked at the two figures embracing each other in the heavy rain.

"You said you leave when there's nothing left for you to do so what if I gave you a reason to stay?"

A young girl called Flo fleeing her country due to war, in search of a new home. Flo encounters joy and lots of sadness along with love and loss. Will Flo ever find home and a place of safety and comfort in this world of war and chaos.

While packing Ethan's flight bag, I found a custom solo wings pin. The engraving on the back read: For Lark, to celebrate your first solo. Beneath the box sat the receipt for Skyler's flight school tuition, paid in full by Ethan, along with a photograph. In the photo, she was sitting in the pilot's seat. Ethan's gloved hand rested over hers on the control yoke. Seven years ago, I had sat in that same seat. Back then, I was one step away from my first solo flight, but Ethan talked me out of it again and again, always claiming it was "for my own good." He said flying was dangerous, that someone had to stay home and take care of things. I put down my logbook, pressed the wrinkles out of every one of his captain's uniforms, and spent seven years living by his flight schedule. Only now did I finally understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to take anyone flying. He just didn't want to take me. What made it even more absurd was that the night Skyler first flew through the clouds, I was alone in a hospital, losing our baby. I called him over a dozen times. At three in the morning, he finally called back, his voice flat and indifferent. "I just took Lark through the clouds. Next time something comes up, give me a heads-up." I put the wings pin back exactly where I found it, then pulled the crumpled ultrasound printout from the bottom of the drawer and tucked it inside the logbook that had been gathering dust for seven years. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to look back. He convinced me to leave the pilot's seat, then turned around and put another woman in the sky. So I would leave him and take back the sky that had always been mine.

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

On the flight home, the plane starts shaking violently. Certain I'm about to die, I call my husband, Rhys Callahan, to say my last words. He hangs up on me, and his auto-reply flashes on the screen. "Driving. On my way to pick up Daphne." I've taken 86 flights in our five years of marriage. Every time I'm about to land, I ask him to come get me, and every time, the answer is the same. "Daphne's getting in too. I have to pick her up." He picks up Daphne Langston all 86 times. The lowest point comes during a rainstorm. I drag my suitcase through the downpour outside the terminal for two hours, unable to get a ride. When I call him, Daphne's voice comes through, laughing. "Oh, Rhys is helping me with my luggage right now. He can't come to the phone." Now the cabin fills with screaming and sobbing. The plane spirals out of control at cruising altitude, the left wing shearing away as flames light up the windows. My phone buzzes with a message from him. "Just picked Daphne up. What time do you land? I'll come get you." I stare at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. After five years, he's finally offering to pick me up. But fire swallows the plane as it plunges toward the ground. He doesn't know I'm no longer coming home.