The Boy Who Thought He Could Fly

While sitting alone on his doorstep, five-year-old Daniel had had what he thought was his best and most original idea yet. He wondered if it would be possible to jump into the air, and then, while in mid-air, jump again, and then again. With a mental image of himself soaring upwards, repeatedly jumping in the manner of a flea, Daniel set about putting his flying boy theory to the test. He just needed a platform from which to launch himself.

Several derelict houses stood at the bottom of his street, and from inside one of those Daniel climbed onto a ground-floor window ledge some three feet from the pavement. Having great faith in his idea and, at that tender age, being unfamiliar with Newton’s third law on action and reaction, Daniel made the leap. In the blink of an eye his plimsolls landed on the flagstones with a slap.

Back at the drawing board of his mind, Daniel decided that the reason behind the failure of his plan was that he simply hadn’t the time to make his second jump, and that a higher starting point was called for. He looked up at rectangular holes in the brickwork where once had been windows on the first floor. Deciding on that as his new launch platform, Daniel squeezed through a broken panel in the front door, and ascended the staircase.

Looking down, now from a height of twelve feet or so, Daniel was pressed to consider the outcome if, for some reason, his idea wasn’t as sound as he’d imagined it to be. He stared at the grey paving slabs below, aware of how painful an impact from that height would be. Then he received unseen support for his venture.

He’d been taught at school that there was a guardian angel watching over him at all times. Surely, no harm would come to him with that kind of protection on standby. He climbed onto the window ledge, his left arm hugging a vertical stone pillar that once separated two windows. As he stared down from the ledge, his thoughts turned to Pete, a boy from the next street who had been hit by a car, and who is now wheelchair bound. Daniel wondered where Pete’s guardian angel had been.

Then it occurred to Daniel that perhaps guardian angels were exclusive to Catholics. Pete went to the local C of E school, so maybe that was why he hadn’t been saved. After all, Pete and his C of E friends didn’t come home with a mark on their foreheads on Ash Wednesday, nor bring home a cruciform palm on Palm Sunday. Using that reasoning to fight the indecision that had crept into his thoughts, Daniel spurred himself into taking an immediate decision; jump or stay.

A gust of wind blew brick dust into Daniel’s face. Grimacing and spluttering, he released his hold on the pillar and jumped back down into the room. Rubbing his stinging eyes, he decided to postpone his experiment until further research had been carried out.

He descended the staircase and just as he squeezed through the broken panel back into the street, he happened upon his mother on her way home from the shops. She had warned Daniel many times not to go into those derelict houses, and so she barked at him to go home that instant. He walked alongside his mother, peeking into her two carrier bags as he went.

In the kitchen, Daniel’s mother took a wet flannel roughly to his grubby face, and she ordered him to wash his hands. She prepared a sandwich of peanut butter and banana while he was at his ablutions.

As Daniel ate, his mother reiterated her order that he stay away from the derelict houses at the bottom of the street. She explained that as well as the many hazards that may be present, such as missing floorboards or loose plaster, there was no telling who might be lurking unseen within those walls. It was that latter prospect which caused her the greater anxiety. She asked him what he had been doing in there anyway.

Daniel told his mother all about his experiment. In a state of some alarm, she told him how dangerous his action had been, and she elicited from him a solemn promise that he’d never attempt such a thing again. Daniel said that he had no intention of repeating the experiment, as his guardian angel had let him down by not showing up to catch him if he had jumped.

“Maybe it was there,” his mother said, “but instead of revealing itself to you, it intervened in an unseen way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, maybe it blew that brick dust into your face, causing you to step back from the brink and reconsider your position.” Daniel chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then he piped up.

“But if that’s the case,” he said, “won’t I be tempted to go back up there to see if it happens again?”

“No,” his mother said, “because you’ve just made a promise to me that you won’t. And after your sandwich, you and I are going to walk along to the phone box, and I’m going to call the landlord of those empty houses to see about getting him to seal them up to keep people out until they are demolished.”

As mother and son crossed a meadow on the way to the telephone box, she grabbed his waist with both hands and lifted his tiny form up above her head. Then, by dropping and catching him she allowed him to attempt his flying boy experiment in a safer environment. By the time they reached the call box, Daniel had gathered sufficient first-hand data to declare his idea a non-starter.

On the way back across the meadow, Daniel’s mother said that if the weather was as warm as expected tomorrow, she’d set up the inflatable paddling pool in the yard. “Good,” Daniel said, “because I have a theory on how I may be able to breathe underwater, and I want to put it to the test.”

“What are you like?” Daniels mother said, laughing and ruffling his hair with her hand.