Flying

Stars twinkle above my head. As I twirl madly, my bare feet barely touch the ground. The grass is covered with dew. Under the light of the full moon, he water shimmers like diamonds. Everything is mysterious, cloudy, but clear at the same time. Now a fog roles in. I am sheltered from prying eyes by my own cloud. At an unspoken command, the fog thickens, and sections of it collect into a cloud. I step on, and the fog lifts up. Now I am truly flying. the air lifts up my hair, and the cold is refreshing. From here, the stars are even brighter, and bigger. On a whim, I jump. Now this is freedom. Nothing holding me back, I shriek with glee. The fog billows down, and slows my fall, so that when I land the ground is nothing but a giant pillow, just there to catch me.