Air Angels

Because someone insisted on calling me a cheese and rice ball, here I am.

I had this dream last night and It was just so cool (to me ) that I just have to share it though somethings may be different, I'll make it into a story.


The sky was a stark blue, the kind of blue that you really have no better way to describe it than by its name, not teal, not aqua, not even sky. A blue so pure you can't imagine how it got there, though they knew. It was a stir of the clouds and smog that seemed to naturally emmit it self from the City. The City sucked the life out of those inside and around it, and exhaled the poisonous smog that clung to the anything it could get its toxic grips on.

Instead of the deep grey the clouds should have had the unnatural fumes had actually changed them into the blue that they were, centuries of killing the planet not only changed the color but had also changed some of there function.

It was to cloudy to fly, it was always to cloudy, but they did it anyway, no questions asked. To cloudy for normal pilots was one thing, too cloudy for them never existed. With normal planes, they would go into the sea of poison, reminites teasing of how it used to be still mixed in with the sky in small patches, and come out with gunked engines. Not in this place could private industries fly, the Council had made sure of it, qualifying all of the proper technologies as classified military equipment, though they did it less bluntly than put. To be any part of the Council and in the upper reaches, to the well poisoned Government, was to be hated by the people, but to speak these thoughts freely meant a stitched mouth or a slitted throat. Unofficially of course.

We were part of this horrid society, part of the Government because we were in the Military, but not the drafted, we were specially selected and brainwashed from a young age. Most all of us however, didn't take to long to see the truths. It was hard for the public to hate us Angels, in our flying we showed the hope we felt for this place, the fighting spirit, and a lot of the people saw it in us as well. It was like looking at a painting, and getting that glowing feeling on the inside you couldn't explain, for good art needs no explanation. That was how we tried to fly, adding subtle uniqueness in all of our formations and piloting. Most of us did anyway, those of us who hadn't lost their minds and morals to a corrupt society of leadership.

The oldest of us when we came was the age of two, and that had been Gens. We were all selected at birth, taken away from our mothers when we were old enough to eat semi solid food, with the exception of Gens of course, his mother had stolen him away. Every baby ever born under the Council's eye is registered and tested. How in the world they could test an infant and know what its best qualified for baffled most all, we weren't supposed to understand it, just accept it.
Pulling the helmet from the foam, form fitting locker wall I placed it under my arm, my locker door suddenly shut in front of me.

"Hello Gens." I said with a slight soft underlining as the green eyed, red haired man came into view. Gens gathered up the red strands of long almost dreadlock like hair and pulled them in a neat ponytail, sealing the deal with a elastic band.

"Hello yourself Lee." Taking his weight off of the door of my locker I reopened it and pressed the button that was behind where my helmet would lay. With a quiet wirr the chrome wall popped out from its place and revealed his neatly pressed flight suit.


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ok so that wasn't my dream at all.. it was like the prequal to my dream, the part of the dream i had was when lee shootes down the rest of the team, even gens for the greater good, that was all they could do and they did it to get back at the council and ignight the revolution, but if i continue with this to get to that part, it might just be a book by then.... i think i had a stephenie meyer moment just now.... hopefully i can keep it up.