Seconds went by with the only sensation recognizable to Arik being the war drum beat of his heart and the halt of now distant screaming tires. Opening his eyes, he was astonished to what he was seeing. He was floating in the air, literally floating, like a balloon dangling from a string held by some jokester. Only this was clearly no joke. This was real.

Before he had time to think about how he was doing it, a feeling left his body and he came hurtling to the asphalt street, crashing in stinging pain. He groaned and slowly stood up, feeling his now sprained hand for broken bones.

Tires peeled out down the road and the car that had nearly hit him hastily drove off, fleeing the scene without even showing face.

"Slow down, asshole!" hollered Arik after them. "Hit and run bastards."

Arik then saw Kilvio's bike some twenty feet from where he stood. The back tire was completely bent and the spokes were sticking out in every direction like medieval weaponry. But other than that and a few mild scratches, the bike was still in good condition.

Arik snatched the crippled bicycle off the road and observed his surroundings. The prying eyes of an old woman watched him through a window in the house closest to him, and Arik sprinted off down the road holding the bike's frame in his hands. He didn't want anyone to see his face or judge his obliviousness out of equal parts embarrassment and fear.

He ran with the bike in his hands for what felt like miles, his adrenaline fueled endurance impressing even himself. His heart was still racing, contested only by his astonished mind.

In truth, it was actually too much for Arik, as he was scrambling to focus his thoughts on any one thing, the running not making anything easier. But he had to get away from that place. He had to get away from people, if only for a few minutes.

He made his way out of the maze of a neighborhood and ran behind a lot of stores in a conveniently low populated part of town. There, he sat down and gasped for air to fill his burning lungs and wished for the stitches in his stomach to subside. Arik was a decently fit guy; weighing in at around 190 lbs at 6'1". But it was all genetics and no work, and his cardio was definitely not what it used to be back in the day. A skinny fat kid his dad called him these days.

But even with the pain of running for so long, his mind finally began functioning properly again. His scattered thoughts consolidated and focused in on that moment in the air, that moment that was nearly identical to the one the day prior. He hadn't realized it before, as the feeling was completely foreign to him, but there was a unique feeling that the two instances shared in common.

But how could he have known before? It was new and, as far as modern science was concerned, impossible to occur, let alone reproduce. After all, how does one explain to another how to use a specific muscle on their body? You either just do it one day or not. Some people can do the wave with their muscles, such as thighs and pecs, as if they were rolling their abs. Arik could never do that no matter how long he tried.

But, nevertheless, Arik had used something that no one else had ever used before. He had used something in his body that allowed him to fly.

Arik thought back to exactly how those moments felt. The memories were muddied with adrenaline and strong emotions, but he was able to pinpoint something else. Something like a pressure, but also absence of sensation. Like a body part falling asleep, but the body part was his head, or rather, his brain.

The attempt was impossible to describe due to the reasons stated above, for you would not understand even if you were thoroughly explained it. But Arik straightened himself up and steadied his mind. He thought hard about the moments surrounding those incidents and the feeling he had felt. And with a little mental fortitude and unique knowledge, Arik felt it again.

Like a headache without pain, his head filled with pressure. Like the warm wave of blood rushing to body parts that had once fallen asleep, his body sizzled with smooth sensation and weightlessness. Then, his body began to rise in the air. Not much, perhaps an inch a second. But it was enough

"Holy shit, I can fly," he said unable to control his excitement.

His eyes were wide and his arms held out to the sides like a man on a tight rope. But there was no balance to be had. Unequivocally, his body was raising in equal proportion from head to toe, and there was no center of balance in play. It was much like sinking in a pool, accept ascending in air.

Arik laughed out of amazement as he couldn't believe his eyes.

'Is this a dream? Am I simply hallucinating like the doctor said?'

He looked out to the stone wall that walled off the back of the store with the field on the other side. He could now see over it.

'If this is a hallucination, damn me if it isn't realistic,' he thought to himself in glee.

He looked down to the ground he once stood on. He was about nine feet off the ground, and his smile vanished. He had absolutely no idea how to do anything but turn it on and rise. He figured he might know how to turn it off as it couldn't be much different from turning it on, but he rather fancied the idea of descending over falling ten feet onto a spoke-barbed bicycle.

Arik focused his mind once again in a way that he thought was appropriate for descending. And for a second it worked, lowering him about six inches or so. But like a light switch being flicked off by a balloon holding jokester, Arik fell to the ground, narrowly missing the bike. The landing stung his feet a tad, but he had been through worse.

"I sure am making a habit out of falling from the sky," he said picking up the bent bike.

He looked up to the sky with a speculative face.

'This is crazy. How has this happened to me? Why me?' he challenged his brain. 'Is this how I survived that fall the other week? No, it can't be. I feel pretty confident that if I fell a great enough distance, I would die. In fact, that may just happen if I try to fly too high.'

He looked to the bike. 'I'd better stick to standard transportation for now. Plus, I wouldn't want some random old lady to see me and report me to the police. They would probably shoot me down or the government would come and experiment on me.' He cracked a smile.

'But one thing I do know: right now I have to find a place to live. And I think I have just the place and plan to get it done.'

• • •

Arik chained his bike to the bike rack outside of the apartments. The bike had a new back tire and lock that he had bought at the local bike shop "Sunnyside Bikes" before riding it to the apartment; his old apartment to be specific.

Walking through the front door, Arik felt like electric fire. He strutted his way down the hall of the first floor and saw his target before even reaching the apartment room. Mr. Mohill, waddling out of his door with a pizza slice in his mouth so that he could organize some papers in his hands.

The fat landlord looked from the pages to see Arik walking toward him in stride. The pizza dropped from his mouth as his eyes exploded open and he waddled slightly faster back into his room like a frightened penguin. The door slammed behind him and the locks battered the door.

"Mr. Mohill, open up. We need to talk."

"Dead men don't talk. Go the hell away."

"Look, I just want to li—"

"Y'know I thought you would be back. I bought some shit to deal with you," Mr. Mohill yelled in a gravelly voice.

Arik's heart flicked as thoughts of a gun rushed into his mind. 'Surely he wouldn't shoot him, right?' he questioned.

"If you try any shit then I'll holy water your ass!"

Arik immediately felt relief. Here he was thinking the man had bought a gun to shoot Arik, when in reality he was just superstitious and bought stuff for an exorcism.

'This may work better than I thought. Well, as long as it doesn't turn out that I'm actually dead.'

Arik decided to initiate his plan that he had formulated earlier in the parking lot. And it started with heavy and violent banging on the landlord's door. Mr. Mohill immediately screamed at the banging and Arik could here him running from the door, most likely to hide behind something.

"Mr. Mohill. Your petty trinkets and holy water will have no affect on me." Arik's voice was booming and timbre. "If you do not give me what I want, I will haunt your soul to the end of your days. I will see to it that you never sleep peacefully again, and you shall lose everything."

Complete silence answered back. Arik gritted his teeth in suspense and fear that his plan wouldn't work. But then half sobbing words broke the silence.

"Please, what do you want from me?"

"I want to live in my old room, the room that I died in, forever."

"If you promise to leave me alone, you can have it."

"It's a deal. Don't break it, or I'll break you." Arik felt he was laying it on a bit thick, but he figured too much was better than too little.

Some shuffling and metallic clinking was heard from behind the door, followed by the key to Arik's room sliding under it to his shoe.

He silently first pumped in place out of excitement for his plan working out. He grabbed the key then turned and walked away down the hall, but stopped. He stared at the floor, pivoted around and made his way back to the door with a more serious disposition.

"One more thing... Why didn't you open or throw away the suicide note in my jacket?"

More silence.

"I... It didn't feel right. So I planned to give it to your parents when I figured out their number." His voice sounded soft and sincere, rare for someone like him.

Arik stood a few more seconds before walking away with no further questions.

The elevator ride up to the sixth floor was accompanied with thoughts of excitement, but also confusion and surprise. He never would have thought in a million years that Mr. Mohill would have given an answer like that.

'Maybe he wasn't quite as bad as he let off. Maybe... Probably not. Must have been some fluke from a man trying to redeem his soul.

'Or maybe, people weren't what they seem. Perhaps even people as foul and disgusting as Mr. Mohill have shreds of decency within them...What does that say about me?' The ride up the elevator was instantaneous before his dumbfounded thoughts.

The door to his apartment opened up with the same wooden squeaks as normal. His very own welcoming symphony of the poor. But there were some other familiar squeaks behind it. The ol' bread bandit scurried off on his kitchen countertop and behind the fridge.

A tired smile skimmed the apartment as Arik took off his leather jacket, setting it on the counter.

"Lets try this one again, huh?"

While never crowned to be a particularly brilliant guy, Arik had his fair share of street knowledge and made a hobby out of thinking on the fly. He was very proud of himself for what he had just mustered to fruition. Something that you would only see on TV or read in books.

To summarize it more clearly, Arik was generously loaned more than enough money to get a new place to stay. Then he managed to intimidate the pants off of his old enemy and landlord and scored his apartment back for free, possibly indefinitely. It was something truly savory to Arik, yet new and uncomfortable; good fortune, that is.

It was just what he needed to get his future affairs in order, and that game had just begun. He managed to pull off a nice foundation, true. But now he had to build upon it and actually make something of himself, and hopefully more effectively than in his past.

Arik sat against the wall of his living room, under the window, ambitiously contemplating his next move. With the large sum of money burning a hole through his pocket, he felt like a kid that was told by their parents that they could have anything in the candy store. But obviously, it wasn't that simple. Nothing was as an adult. An adult's candy store was filled with taxes, investments and politics, all of which Arik detested.

But he had to make the right moves this time. He wanted to, for everyone's sake. Whether it was fear of failing again or a strange competitiveness with his formal self, Arik just knew he actually wanted to try and make it a point to pay Kilvio back in the end.

A part of that last sentence to not be looked over was "in the end." For Arik had gotten his place back, and technically still had the money to pay Kilvio back. But that would beg explanation on his part and he wasn't sure that was a good idea as of yet. He didn't want to lie, Kilvio would know.

Plus, Arik could think of a few other ways he could use Kilvio's loan.

He left his apartment once that day to buy drawing supplies and dinner. He then promptly returned to draw, eat food, and ruminate on the days climactic events. He was considerably exhausted, and fell asleep early and hard.