Dream of Wings

I entered this contest some time ago (I did not win) in which we picked a picture from a group of dead Amanda Palmer pictures and then we must write a story about it. Here's what I wrote.

Once a long time ago, people flew in the sky like birds with giant wings on their backs. This was later agreed to have been a very bad idea, as they were very likely to forget to come down to the earth to feed and falling emaciated winged people are a very nasty sight indeed. The problem was taken care of, the wings removed, and people started walking on land. There was nothing left in history mentioning the time when people could fly, except for the memory in people’s bodies. This memory came out in dreams.

What people don’t realize is that there are certain times when a dreamer’s will is strong enough that their dreams come true. One person with such a strong will was a woman by the name of Amanda Palmer, who one day dreamed she could fly.
All it took was that vivid dream and the body’s memory and Amanda Palmer grew wings. Perhaps still thinking that she was dreaming, or perhaps because her definition of reality was much larger than others, Amanda took her sudden change at face value and jumped from her balcony to go for a midnight flight.

It did not bother her that she was naked, flying with clothes on is next to impossible and the cool air felt lovely along her skin. She remembered quite clearly how to fly and it was not long before she was doing summersaults in the air.
It was not to last, however. While the moon was out and dreams ruled the world, Amanda had wings. As the sun rose that began to change. Dreams were chased from the air and in the world of waking wings are not gifts humans can receive. Invisible hands grabbed her arms and legs and as the sun touched her wings they began to melt. Although she thrashed around, trying to fly with what little of her wings was left, the hands held her steady. Once the wings were gone, her skin as smooth as it had been before, the hands disappeared and she began to fall. She landed on a hotel balcony not far from her own room. The fall, and maybe even the shock of these events, had killed her.

The sun, now high in the sky, showed a woman with dark red bruises on her arms and legs in the shape of hands. There was not a feather in site. It was not the first time someone had died in such a way, and it will not be the last.