The light began to etch its way into a town. Its buildings, while not the most impressive in architecture, or in size, as most sat close to the ground, had clearly been cherished. Each house stood erect in its structure, polished and kept up with, as evident from the well coated paint across each house, the clean, almost flawless front yards, with grass not too high, nor too low, the color a vibrant shade of green. The only oddities being that most houses strung across the one thousand diameter, being that in front each sat a large perch of sorts, as if replacing power lines.

  Despite this though, the streets of Murrowbrow were very rural, especially on the Southern side. Although most homes were a considerable distance from one another, it never felt lonely given the influx of strange animals, most resembling the result of a crossbreed between sheep and birds. Their redeeming qualities being they were both soft, and talkative, filling the gaps in silence.Though the citizens themselves, once given the chance to talk to someone, were anything but silent themselves. It wouldn’t be unusual for one from the North, East or West, to be swayed to stay by the pleasant aroma of pastries first thing in the morning, and sit with people, who they may or may not know well, for breakfast. Although the Southerners wouldn’t expect a reciprocation for their hospitality, from their benign expressions, along with their savory meals, and placid smiles which could only be found in the still of the South, they would have no choice but to make some use of themselves. Then, the next thing they’d know, they would spend the rest of the day becoming accustomed to their agrarian slow lifestyle, though with the characters of the South it could never be dull.

  Although places such as MurrowBrow have existed beyond the pit long ago, nothing before had retained the purity of these humble characteristics, even with the confrontation of technology. Yet none were swayed in the South, and more often than not the different regions would feel tempted to settle down there, finding value in a dwindling, unambitious life with cattle and silly people. Though as you may expect, this culture was not a result of nothing.

  As said before, this was a town stretched into the heart of the world, with thousands of homes laid along the smooth walls of the harrowing pit. Though from every other angle outside of these depths, was a barren, sandy land laid bare, where no signs of life were present, leaving humans with nothing to explore. Within the pit, there was nothing worth pursuing the farther down you went, only minerals and irons to further cultivate their society, to continue surviving, while thriving for naught, bringing dissatisfaction, for a time. Though as the street lights which guided the lost throughout the night died down in their brilliance, at last, the children of MurrowBrow with their large wings dawned proudly were of course eager to take off stretching on the perches made for them.

  After parting with their parents, reassuring them to abide by their curfew, play nice, and so on and so forth, each and every child slowly, yet surely began to pour out into the sky. Their wings each sporting their own unique size and color. As almost every child evacuated the stuffy town, exiting farther, and farther away from Earth’s atmosphere, their lingering parents sat from below in admiration, some even shedding tears.

  The higher class families, which hung far above each sector waved to the children, admiring their brilliance. The older adults compared their own dullied, battered wings envious of the children’s. Although each were in their respective position for their wings, it hadn’t been enough. With their sneering eyes, and from the depths of their heart they hammered in their heads the faces of whom they would be sure to barter with, so that one day their limp, flaky wings could one day measure up.

  A smaller house South, though with a far larger balcony, had a man and woman standing behind a boy.

  The mother looked stern, whereas the father kept a more anxious demeanor, anticipating something from what one could only assume to be their child.

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  Strangely however, the child’s tousled hair was of a light strawberry red, his skin tan, the eyebrows which remained furrowed and concerned alongside his father, were sharper creating more of an upside down vee. Overall, the boy’s features had been far more distinct than his parents'.

  The father wore ripped jeans and an unbuttoned striped shirt, his hair was shaggy and thick, much like his sons, though the color was a humble chestnut brown much like his wife. The glaring differences between the two being her tan skin, the only resemblance shared with Kanoa, the small streaks of snow white hair, her shorter neater hair, and buttoned up shirt and jeans as if trying to highlight a sense of seriousness. Though this was contrasted by the playful curls swaying about in the wind, cutting through her stoicism.

  “C-come on Noa! You’ve got this, fly!”

  The boy called “Noa” stared at his parents shyly. It hadn’t been that he was nervous, rather, he had no clue of what to do with himself. Everyday they would bring him out here, expecting him to jump and fly from the balcony. The distance was rather short, and he had hopped off for fun, however this had been different.

  “Why are you so scared!?”

  “Jump! Jump!

  His two siblings retorted looking through the screen door of the balcony. Both looked like mirrors of their parents. The little girl looked disappointed in her brother, although her eyes were barely visible under a curled afro, whereas her brother held out hope, excited to see his brother's wings.

  With so many eyes upon him, he was no longer allowed to mess up or make any excuses. His parents needed to see him fly. His siblings needed him to fly, to know he could use his gift.

  “...”

  He struggled at first, whether to take a decisive leap, no matter how wrong it may be, or back away. So instead, he swung his head back to his family and gave a big smile.

  “Heh! Sorry guys! Gotta pee!”

  “Ah, what?! Again!?”

  His father cried while his mother shook her head disappointedly. Both of their children groaned exasperated, not at all buying it.

  “Big ol’ scaredy cat!”

  “You’re so big already, just fly!”

  Both of them retreated, their jabs slightly getting to him, though he smiled regardless.

  “Kanoa. You’re ten years old now. Decide. Will you fly, or spend another day stuck at home, doing nothing?”

  He pondered it for a moment. A choice.

  Staring at the ground, he opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

  “I… I don’t know…”

  They stood there for a while, exchanging varying shades of disappointment, both in themselves, each other, but moreover love. Because even if Kanoa couldn’t fly today, the cries of his siblings calling for his present was more than enough to remind the couple of how wonderful their son was.

  “... Well… I guess there’s always tomorrow!”

  The man replied, rubbing the back of his neck,while staring at his wife for agreement.”

  “Yeah… Always tomorrow.”

  And so, everyone returned to their homes, and jobs within the south side of MurrowBrow, the older men and women strolled through the caverns residing deep within MurrowBrow, most times to collect valuable minerals or types of food, while the younger generation worked tirelessly in both helping their community, and further expanding their world.

  Soon enough, night would fall again, and the same children out of sight, and almost out of mind ascended from what they could only assume to be the heavens themselves, and rested for another adventure the next day.

  Such is the day in the life for MurrowBrow, simple and peaceful to the many adults living there, yet held a sort of bitter happiness to many of the youngsters, as each adventure seemed to have been cut shorter than the one before.

  Everyone was happy with their existence here and no one ever questioned anything beyond this basic routine.