The Infamous Flight of William D. Parker

Belinda licked her finger and stuck it out the window. “Yup, the wind is right,” she announced.

Will took in his ten year old twin’s thick hair twisted into braids and display of freckles spattered haphazardly across her nose. There was a familiar mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked watching the ducks do lazy circles on the pond far below him.

“Of course.”

Will turned to look at Belinda, sticking an accusing finger out at her. “You know that humans are not aerodynamically set for flying-”

“I told you, I read it in a book. It’s something called a hang-glide-a-whatcha-ma-callit. A piece of fabric is strapped to your back like wings. You take a running start off a high cliff and the wind catches your wings and makes you fly.”

“You will never get me to do that.” Will backed away, shaking his head.

“It’s very scientific.”

“Then why don’t you try it?”

“Look, if you’re chicken-”

Nothing burned more than being called chicken by your twin, especially if that twin was a girl.

“I aint chicken.”

“Good, so here is the plan. You go runnin’ across the hayloft and jump out that window,” she flung her finger at the far window where hay particles danced lazily in the sun.

“I thought I was supposed to jump off a high cliff,” grumbled Will, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Now, Will, where do you think we’re going to find a cliff on this farm?” Belinda flung her arms in the air, “Sheesh, this is the best we’ve got. You’ll just have to run faster and jump higher. Be sure your feet don’t catch on the sill or you’ll splat in the manure pile. I’m going below, I’ll count to three and you take off.”

Will watched his twin’s bare feet disappear down the hayloft stairs with a scuffle, and shook his head. “I’ve got to be the craziest person in the world to follow a harebrained scheme like this one.”

Belinda was the reader, and thus the plotter. Most of her ideas came out of the fantastic books she read. Will enjoyed the stories that Belinda poured out along with her schemes. He was always ready for an adventure, which was the reason, he realized, that he was standing in the hayloft with his mom’s best sheet strapped to his back.

“Would it really work?” he wondered. Belinda said she found it in one of her books, but that was the problem. Belinda’s ideas seemed just fine in books, but when applied to real life something was always missing and seldom worked the way it was supposed to. Will reflected on the countless accidents already this year and wondered how he wasn’t dead yet.

“I’m just a glutton for punishment,” he mumbled to himself as he heard Belinda’s voice from far away shout, “Are ya ready?”


Will adjusted his wings and hoped the inventor of the hang-glide-a-whatcha-ma-callit knew what he was talking about and shouted back, “Ready.”

Belinda’s voice came floating up to him, “One. Two. THREE.”

Will raced across the hayloft floor eying the two-foot jump to get out the window. Closer and closer it came, leaping into the air he felt his feet snag on the sill. Grabbing frantically he caught the edge of the window before he catapulted out of the barn, his legs dangling wildly.

“Quit laughing. Get up here and pull me in before I die.” he shouted.


Red-faced, Belinda pounded up the stairs, gripped Will’s shirt, and hauled him through the window.

“I told ya not to catch your feet, ya dope,” she said laughing.

“You try making that jump. Your plan just won’t work. No flying today.”

Belinda frowned and pulled her braids, a sure sign she was hatching a plot. Her eyes lit up in a twinkle and Will groaned.

“I’ve got it,” she announced, “all we need is a ramp.”

“A ramp?” Will’s eyebrows rocketed off his forehead in disbelief. “And, where are we going to find a piece of wood big enough for a ramp?”

“Well,” Belinda was thinking again. “The chicken coop door is broken, and it's the right size to prop up to the window.”

Will shook his head, “What about the chickens? Dad will be dang-burned mad if they get loose.”

“They won’t. We’ll borrow the door long enough to launch your flight and put it right back. The chickens won’t even realize it’s gone.”

Will shrugged his shoulders; there was no arguing with her once she had an idea stuck in her head.

“You look for Dad, I’ll nab the door,” Belinda said.

Will scanned the barnyard. “All clear,” he whispered hoarsely.

Belinda dashed to the coop, as her fingers yanked at the weathered wood, it tumbled over on top of her; squishing her flat.

“Will you stop laughing and get this thing off?” Came Belinda’s indignant muffled voice as Will sauntered up to her chuckling.

“This door is heavier than I thought,” Will grunted lifting it off his sister as Belinda wriggled free.

“Don’t be a wimp, we can do it together” she insisted, and they began to drag it toward the barn.

It took them five minutes to reach the stairs a few yards away. Will and Belinda eyed the hayloft steps warily. It would take an awful lot to get the door to the top.

“You sure about this?” Will asked again, hesitantly.

“Course I’m sure. We’d better hurry though or those chickens will be loose and dad will be madder than a fox in a hen-house.”

Each step seemed to the twins a mountain as they slowly bumped the door up the stairs. With a mighty heave they got it in position and stood back, admiring their brilliant handy work: a ramp leading out into the brilliant blue of the un-known. Will was catching on to the excitement and adventure now. He could visualize himself soaring over the pond and corncrib.

He grinned excitedly at Belinda, caution flung aside, “Let’s do this,” he said and Belinda burst down the stairs into the yard.

“One. Two. THREE.” shouted Belinda and Will sprinted across floor.

Faster and faster right up the ramp and out the window his arms flung wide, the sheet fluttering in the wind. For a brief second it look like it would really work.

“You're flying. You're flying!” Belinda shouted, her arms doing giant windmills in the air, as he soared out of the window.

“Wahoo,” whooped Will, until he realized the ground was rising up to meet him, fast.

In horror he saw he was headed right for the middle of a cluster of geese floating lazily on the duck pond.

“Nooo-” he howled as he made his final descent belly flopping and skidding across the water, geese honking angrily and surging into the sky. He came to a stop and slowly sank beneath the mire.

“Am I dead?” he thought to himself as daylight faded into blackness.

Belinda felt a hot breeze rush past as their father, who witnessed the entire flight, charged across the yard; a steam engine barreling down everything in its path as the chickens scattered far and wide, squawking indignantly at their freedom being upset. He dove into the water, grasped Will around the middle, and hauled him to the surface. Will’s lungs exploded with air and the darkness receded. Coughing and sputtering, He regarded his father in dread as he saw him oozing with muck and goose droppings; a giant toad perched atop his head.

Belinda doubled up in peals of laughter, “You should have seen yourself Will. You were glorious. You were skipping across that pond just like a stone with the most beautiful arc. I’ve never seen geese look so frighten-“

She stopped short looking at her fuming father, made even more menacing by the dripping smudge and swallowed her words as chickens pecked between her toes. Chickens!

Groaning inwardly she looked at her father offering him a sheepish grin, “It was a --very--high--tech--scientific--experiment?”

Jaw clenched in vexation, he hoisted her up by her overalls and, in suffocating silence, marched to the house, one child secured beneath each arm.