Clyde picked himself up from the ground. His shirt was torn and there was dust he had to brush off himself yet his skin was unbroken. He checked his arms and legs but there was no blood, no broken bones, just a bruise on his knee.

  He, almost unthinkingly, looked at the nearest tree and punched it. His fist broke the bark and left a dent in the tree. He inspected his knuckles. No damaged skin, no pain. He decided to bring his arm back and hit the tree with full force and his fist went through the tree, sending splinters everywhere and the top of the tree crashing down.

  He let out a laugh of pure shock and amazement, looking at his fist then at the tree. He walked up to another tree and punched it full force, breaking the tree in half. He punched another tree and another. He grabbed a fallen tree with both hands and threw it up into the air, the tree crashed into other trees that let out cracks and groans.

  He laughed again and, with aggressive excitement, picked up a boulder and hurled it through the trees.

  He laughed loudly, his body full of adrenalin but forced himself to stop. Struggling to contain himself he focused on the air around him. He realised he could sense the molecules in the air, he could see them but not with his eyes he could feel them mo. He grabbed onto these molecules in the above him with his hands, closing them into fists, then using his hands to drag the molecules down under himself, the pressure causing grass to flatten and squeezing his lower leg muscles.

  He then jerked his arms upwards, releasing the pressure in an explosion that shot himself upward into the air until he slowly came to a stop and floated.

  Looking around at the beautiful green mountains and vallies, he realised he could now go anywhere he wanted to. But where? Ballarat? Alice Springs? Dampier? Botany Bay?

  He focused on the air again, sensing it, gathering it together with his hands, pulling it behind himself with a wide sweeping of his hands, bringing his elbows to his sides and pushing it forward, sending him flying through the air. As he was coming to a stop he did this again and again until he decided upon a destination, Airs Rock.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He pulled out his phone, ignored the notifications from his “friends” calls and texts, and found where Ularu was from him. North-west.

  He angled himself in that direction and began to fly. Over time, he figured out a system, continually dragging the air behind himself and pushing it forward as he flew. After only an hour he didn't even have to think about it, the system worked on its own.

  He flew near a town and realized he was hungry so he swooped down and entered a fish and chip shop. As he ate he realised he would need camping supplies and entered a local BCF place. Realizing he didn't have the money to pay, he put everything he needed into a backpack, put it over his shoulders and tried to walk out of the store. An employee tried to stop him but he ducked behind a row of fishing rods, dodged around another employee and ran out the door. He glanced behind himself to see both employees running out after him. He laughed and pulled himself up into the air and flew off. He glanced behind again and laughed at their stunned faces.

  He spent multiple days and nights getting to Ularu, camping out and eating cans of beans and some bush tucker he managed to scourge, including a large Goanna he managed to kill with a slingshot.

  Once he arrived in Ularu he alighted on the top of the impressive rock. Down below, he could see a gathering of people pointing up at him with angry looks on their faces. Nobody was meant to be up here. He laughed and flipped them the middle finger. He could do whatever he wanted.

  He turned around and let himself fall backwards off the rock. He felt the air wheezing passed him until he forced it to catch him and send him back up into the air again, just missing the ground. He looked down at the people staring up at him now in fear and amazement and laughed. He shot himself forward then, as the air waned he began to fall, turning onto his back, hands behind his head. The air caught him again and sprung him back up into the air. Clyde loved this, the excitement and adrenaline pumping through his veins, so he did it again and again until he was exhausted.

  He camped out that night and decided he wanted to leave Australia and head to Britain. He flew until he reached Darwin. He stayed in the outskirts of the city until nightfall before entering. He found a motel and slept until the morning. He then walked to the airport and looked at the timetable until he found the time he wanted. He stepped outside and waited for the plane to take off. He flew up as the plane did and, when it was up in the clouds, came to rest on top of it.