[ WP ] Wright a story from the view of an inanimate object .

Wright: a Story from the View of an Inanimate Object. 
 
 I am complete. I feel strong, stronger than I thought I could ever feel, and I am ready. I am finally ready. 
 
 I have been taken apart and put back together again so many times, every time different. And every time I make my attempt, I have fallen back to the earth. Back to the cold dark. 
 
 How I long to achieve my purpose, the purpose for which I was designed. I have spent far too much time already on the ground. The ground nursed me, gave my wheels purchase, yes. But it will never be freedom. It is, in fact, my prison. 
 
 So they have worked and worked on me, and every time I have felt the sting of failure. I have felt the depth of their disappointment, my creators. But I know that they are determined. 
 
 And so am I. 
 
 Today will be the final testament to that creed. I will take to the sky, as I was always meant to, and I will stay there until my fuel runs out. Because the sky is my home. It is where I belong. 
 
 The runway stretches before me, as it has so many times before. But this will be the last time I look upon this runway as a failure. 
 
 My engine roars to life, sending my propellers into motion. A sense of power comes with that rotation. I am already anticipating the wind passing past my wings as I soar through the skies, finally free. 
 
 Once again I am moving forward, but this time feels different. More confident of how it will end. 
 
 Faster and faster, I speed along the runway. The air is moving so fast through the spaces in between my wings, and my propellers whir with glorious speed until I 
 
 Lift. 
 
 I lift from the ground, feeling that moment of critical ascension as the wind becomes strong enough to bear my whole weight. Onward and upward I fly, facing the sky. My destination, my destiny. 
 
 This is the moment. My creator guides my path, whooping with the joy of our success. Had I a mouth I would whoop with him, but I am content simply to soar. 
 
 When I land, it could have been more graceful, but I am still in one piece. And more importantly, I am capable of flying again. 
 
 And not just me. I will not be the last. No, I am only the first. While my creator taxis me into the hangar, I have visions of my descendants. Massive planes, capable of holding hundreds of people or huge amounts of cargo. Planes with weapons, using their air superiority to wreak havoc upon those restricted to the earth. Plane on plane violence. 
 
 The doors to the hanger close right as I realize that my success has doomed my own future, and the future of my own kind, to a brutal slavery. 
 
 I will never be free. I will always return to the ground. I am a plane.
