Part 9

The ship was beautiful. Its silver wings glistened in the sun. Its motor was a strong song that lifted it to high heights.

And then...

Down.

Down out of the blue heights we hurtled. Straight down. Faster. Faster and faster. Testing our strength by diving.

Fear?

Yes, I had grown older. But grim fear now. The fear of daring and courage. But tempered too with some of the strong power of the old dream now too.

Down.

Down.

A roar of flashing steel and a streak of glinting ... oh yes, oh yes, now ... breaking wings. Too frail ... the wings ... the dream ... the evil days.

The cold but vibrant fuselage was the last thing to feel my warm and living flesh. The long loud diving roar of the motor, rising to the awful crashing crescendo of its impact with the earth, was my death song.

I am dead now.