“I can fly!” she cries, and everyone laughs. 
They don’t believe her and she stomps her feet and insists, “I can!”.
They laugh and point and call her names and she bears it all quietly thinking ‘sticks and stones, sticks and stones,’ waiting for her moment to come. Ever since she was a girl, she’s always been told that she can do whatever she wants, and at this very moment in time, she wants nothing more than to grow wings and fly away and never come back. And then, one day, late at night, it happens: she grows wings of bright white and feels her spirits lift. Now, she thinks, now she can fly far, far away to a place where she’s not mocked for having far-flung dreams and wild fantasies, where people won’t tell her she’s strange and inhuman for wanting and wishing and believing. And most if all, she can prove everyone wrong now, show them all what dreams are worth, show them that she’s not stupid or childish for still believing in miracles, and she will laugh as she flies away because it is them who are silly, because if you haven’t even got your dreams, then what do you really have left?

- Isabella Sunday