Synopsis
Told through the eyes of The Author, we follow the story of 7-9 children, and the paths they choose as they grow up. Living in the airway slums, they each dream of human flight… to feel the rush of air, of weightlessness, of freedom.
The protagonists father seemingly abandons them at an early age, leaving cryptic remarks, and perhaps a ghostly visitation or two. Five of the children give up and move on, while four continue to hunt for their father (or rather, father figure).
In ancient ruins they search for reasons of the disappearance, somehow tied to the ancient myths of human flight. Mythology quietly hints at a special race of people… markings on their bones, and the ability to control the air. One by one, the four friends pay the price for their obsession, till only the author is left.
He secludes himself in the forested mountains of his tribe’s origin… bitter, haunted, and unforgiving. His father’s mystery catches up to him, however, as he must let go of his own search, and receive what those before had wanted to give him.
The markings on those bones…
1 – Dust and Death (the end of the story, almost)
“The three of us stood there, not knowing how we’d actually made it there, or why we’d been allowed by the fates. We had tempted these fates before, and never been shown such mercy…”
“As the pale moon sank low, and our eyes shown with dusty intrigue in the flickering of the torches, we beheld what few had ever dared to find…”
“Whispering of forbidden histories, the ancient mechanisms softly clicked and turned, opening the rift above, and divulging the secrets below. The surrounding tombs were forgotten as the pinnacle of our ancestors was slowly revealed in the floor, a thin tracing of lines and symbols, markings, notations, and abstracts carved in the metal.”
“Awe gave way to study, as the hours shifted into days. We poured through second hand accounts, of Eacloplec’s writings and Uilodes poems. On the eve of nocturnal solitudes, we discovered the keys; the summer breeze, the rift in stone above, and the warmth of fire… The mechanism came to second life, lifting a cloud of dust and embers as the floor seemed to give way, sinking as the room began to rise aloft.”
“But the solitude was broken, our often hunted shadows were just not long enough… and we died there, in the room of swirling dust, and light, and blood, and hair… her body suspended as spears sunk through the flesh, and monstrous cries of lust and victory sprang out of the shadows. Our end had come, just as surely as our fates had willed.”
2 – Souls and dreams (beginning of the story)
“Laying in the grass, the group watched as distant specks floated on the breeze, the machinations a distant roaring purr. Each swirling light a bit of dust, ignited deep within the earth and brought to the surface by broad fins of metal vents.”
“The next day, a soft snow-like ash would fall, white on your face, but red in the sky. The seven of us would run the streets, streaked by the soot and sweat and wind. And sometimes, there’d be visitors from far away, riding the gusts and waves in the sky. Giant kite-ships of cloth and steel, borne up by the power of man; manufactured winds and trade currents in the sky.”
“The shadows would race along the ground, faster than the myths of wild horses. Our smaller abstractions of paper and wood would flutter in the wind, poor imitations of the flying beasts above, but soaring, in our minds, just as high.”
“Once my dad took me down, to the middle levels of the machines. He held me as I leaned over the railing, as the forces stirred and swept my breath away. Floating in his hands, my weight pulled away and memories of ground flitting into the past, I felt the sudden need to fly forever, to never touch the dirt again, to feel this as my own, not the effects of heavy thought and belabored fuels, grinding at the essence of the earth and spewing forth resistance.”
“Spend the day above; sitting on a tree branch, running down a hill, jumping off a cliff into the broiling water below… you’ll soon feel the urge, the unquenchable thirst for air and flight.”
“For some of us that dream became an obsession…”
“… and for every dream, there is a price.”
(two shots – one as a boy, his knee skinned up and bleeding, his miniature flying kite a crumple in his hand… and again a second, the boy as a man, wounded, his sister dead, and surrounded on all sides by utter darkness)
3 – Library
4 – Youths
5 – Flight
(you can’t fly alone? I think the flight can be more magical than physical, maybe a sort of anti-gravity or something, not just strapping wings on!)
characters
The man – average, though slightly short. Dark hair, deep eyes of grays and blacks. He documents, either by writing, sketching, or photographing. He is the voice of the story teller, the only one capable of letting us see this world, the only one left to share the darkness and misery, and light.
The sister – like her brother, but for his darkness, she is the light. Sandy yellow hair, and the grayness of her eyes is infused with the colour of the skies; sometimes blue, sometimes gold.
The friends – they are a variable bunch, but the childhood friendships of the airway slums have bonded them together like closest kin. They share a common goal, though not all will stay on the path. The journey is hard, and some fall away. Some loose everything, and make it to glorious end.
The tribal woman – She has longish hair, and bears mysterious marks that are almost entirely covered by her leather garments. She’s seen death as well, but has embraced it, gaining powering unknown to anyone but herself.
settings
childhood (2) – airway slums, the workers keep up the giant machines housed within the ground that keep the air currents stirred and capable of lifting the transportation kites. Hilly and often dry, the landscape is lit with burnt umbre and the golds of a setting sun.
Library – of epic proportions, it spreads like a city built from pieces of Oxford. Stone and wood, gothic, with circuitous hallways, stairs, and halls. We spend time in only a small section, filled with books, artefacts, etc. More museum in places than library, it is the hub of ancient documents and research.
Grasslands – of african styling, the grasslands are pooled with water, home to birds, and a strange woman (and her tribe).
Mountains – If Siberia were mixed with the Aztecs, this would be the result. Geometric designs in the rock lead to hidden caverns and carved out steps (similar to the stepped pyramids of South America). This is part of the story that the author may or may not be a part of.
Temple (1) – on the edge of the desert, between ice and sand, snow and devilish heat. This is the last sacrifice, made to the dreams they each shared. Egyptian in design, but melded with the knowledge of different cultures and a gathering of minds.
Forest (5) – our hero is wounded, in every way imaginable. This is his retreat, to seclude himself from others, and spend his time on stories of the birds. He can not stop documenting and writing and painting, but he can bury his past, his dreams, his nightmares.
The Grave – the author at last discovers his fathers resting place, when he is called by some sort of mysterious force… or something. Perhaps he lines up the clues he’s unwittingly gathered – pieces that combine to form a small message from his late father. Perhaps brought to light by the delivery of a final package from a deceased friend?! Or a package he couldn’t open, till eventually he gives in and opens up to a new local friend in the forest.
The grave serves as the culmination – not mystical, necessarily, but fulfilling – flight comes only from inheritance, from the bones of his father.
other notes on story outlines (primarily intro / chapter 2):
dreaming kids and scheming ids (his dad holds him above his head and flies him around)
flight is outlawed in some areas? nah, too improbable or social caste system based.
flight as a metaphor for love, hindered by avoidance of risk, etc.
“Here is my account of the events. There may be more to come, I do not know, life is full of surprises.”
“Mine is a world you may not understand, we have great buildings, but no society, we have brilliant people, but no interaction, we have technology, but no flight.”
Childhood –
our main characters: the boy, his sister, their best friend, and 4 other kids.
Playing on the hills, under the sparkling dust from the machines… exploring the monstrous caves and wind generators.
Telling stories, growing up, etc.
Library –
School, growing up…
Researching flight, the myths, etc.
(War comes to the shores of the monolithic library, however, and as the city burns, they must escape?)
Dispersion –
Some of our characters give up, flee, hide, or keep pursuing, though in different locations.
Africa –
The man finds a woman with some connection to his search.
Egypt –
The man, his sister, and his best friend / her fiancé journey into the desert, guided by scraps salvaged from the fire, and pieces they’ve collected around the world.
Older –
The boy is now an older man, he lives alone in a vast forest, photographing and documenting the wild life. A bird flies away, and he’s painfully reminded of what he’s given up. He couldn’t find what he’d looked for, not on his own.
“ah, they call you Teatha, you’re the man that drinks tea…”
Final chapter –
He receives the gift of flight from his lineage, from his father.
The story began in 2004, as a script, a few characters, and some limited environments developed for a short CG film. It told of a man bound by his past, and the things that drove him to the point of no longer being able to love. Things did not progress quickly, however, and other productions took precedence, leaving Teatha to rust in countless folders on a now-long-gone hard drive.
After several years, it seemed a graphic novel would allow the story to be told a little more effectively than a short film, and would require far fewer man hours to complete than a full CG animation. The project, unfortunately, continues to languish in the writing stages, though every once in awhile I dust off the pages, and discover more about the lives and histories of these people I’m still trying to meet.
I’ll try to keep things updated whenever there’s progress, though I fear this is going to be slow going! Patience, please…
