The Man Who Flew Too Much

Incident Ten:

  Where Bennet Saves The World

  Unlike every other Saturday morning of his life, Bennet knew that he could fly. After years of speculation and dreaming, building up the courage to try, he had cracked the mystery that held back the human being from the joy of sailing up into the air and conquering the shackles of gravity. It was him, Mr Bennet Noble, who would be remembered throughout history. The First Flying Man.

  The main thing on his mind was not in showing his talent to anyone—not just yet, but in seeing exactly how far he could go. The ceiling he reached in front of Fennel was the highest he had gone, and it was mostly done to gain her acceptance. He still felt worried the outdoors. When he was inside a building he had the assurance of knowing that the ceiling would stop him. It gave him confidence, knowing that if something should happen to bring him down to earth, like a sudden loss of faith, it would not be too large a drop. But in the outside world, even the sky was not the limit. Outside there were problems such as planes and birds, or getting stuck in a tree, or even going so high he would run out of air and end up becoming a future curiosity for moon walkers or aliens.

  The more he thought about sailing of into the heavens, the possibility of losing his skill began to weigh on his mind. He might suddenly forget how he was doing it, and find his body dropping to the ground. The headlines would not be saying that a man can fly, but rather, that a man fell out of the clear blue sky.

  Fell to his death.

  With nothing to show of his life.

  He decided that he would use the rope again until he had complete confidence, that he was attached to the earth, and he would not end up in its orbit, or the orbit of some other planet. As he found the rope again, he laughed to himself that this time he would not be embarrassed if Mrs Weebley happened to see him on his roof again, and would even take enjoyment in flying in front of her.

  He stopped when he heard a rustling coming from his fence, and at first he thought that the large bird family in Mrs Weebley’s tree was making its usual din. Then he saw a cat, small and dark, and with an angry expression. It came racing toward him, at full pace. As he backed away it jumped up at his face and gave him several deep scratches, making a piercing shriek that added to the horror.

  He managed to get himself free from the animal, and then fend it off with the rope. The cat snatched at the rope and rolled with it, ripping it up in a terrifying display of wild fury.

  Bennet ran to his door, shaking so much that he struggled to turn the knob. More cats were coming over the fence, and the air was filled with their loud shrieking. He made it inside and shut the door just before they arrived. Then he realised that his lounge window was open wide enough for a cat to fit through. When he looked he saw them already trying to jump to it. Not knowing what else to do, but seeing that they were determined to get inside, he grabbed an old broom from his laundry and tried to push them back.

  One by one he pushed the crazed cats off the window, only to see more come to take their place. He tried to shut the latch as he pushed them out, but he could not quite reach it. Then the cats took the broom out of his hands and it fell outside. He stood transfixed as he watched them tear the broom apart. For the first time he studied them, and realised that they were not some exotic wild creatures escaped from a zoo, but average run-of-the-mill house cats. The type that most people would think were cute.

  Average, cute, run-of-the-mill house cats that were trying to kill him.

  Then a large black cat came inside the window and rushed at him. Without thinking, Bennet floated upwards to get away from it. The cat jumped at him, its mouth biting, its arms reaching, its claws spiked. Others followed the first cat inside, all jumping up for him. They could not reach him as he found refuge on the ceiling. He clung up there, feeling both safe and helpless.

  Some jumped up at him from his couch, and another from his television. A black and white one leaped at him from the top of his curtains, and caught his shoe. Then it clung onto his right foot, and scrambled up his leg. He swatted the cat off, and then flew as fast as he could to his hallway, where there was an access to his attic. They all followed, getting more intense with their howling. When he made it up into the attic, he felt enormous relief and did not know that he was shaking all over.

  Then he realised that he was trapped. If they could make it into the attic, then he had no room to fly up above them. He would have no alternative but go outside and onto the roof, and face the possibility of going up into the unending sky.

  Once out on the roof, he saw no cats. He knew that he should fly down to the ground and seek help. He looked over the edge, knowing that he had not yet attempted such a height. His rope was gone, and so, he realised, was his confidence. He looked up and saw a few scattered clouds but mostly blue sky. Then he realised that there was blood in his mouth and, for the first time, pain from his scratches. He saw that his shirt was red, from the cuts on his face.

  “Hello up there, Bennet. More little nasties?”

  It was Mrs Weebley, sitting on her patio with a book, oblivious to the danger he was in. With her reading glasses on, she could not see his desperate state.

  “There’s cats trying to kill me!”

  “You have gas, you say?” she asked as she put a hand to her ear.

  “Cats! I have cats!”

  Behind him, three cats, Schnosenschnaft, Dunk and Fabblydabbly, knew that they had him trapped. They took their time, walking toward him in a slow and deliberate way, almost acting like he wasn’t there, teasing with the knowledge that they had him. Schnosenschnaft stayed at him and the two others spread out. Bennet had no way around them. The rest arrived below, on the ground, and they all yelled at him.

  Hearing the cats, the bird family in Mrs Weebley’s tree became panicked, and started tweeting as one. About half of the cats sprang after the birds, climbing the tree with furious anger. Soon there was a commotion of tree branches and leaves. Floating feathers filled the air.

  “Why are you doing this?” Bennet asked what seemed to be the main cat, who was leading the others toward him. “You think I’m a bird? I’m a man.”

  Schnosenschnaft gave a slight turn of his head, together with a wise look that Bennet would swear was a knowing smile.

  “You saw me fly? Is that it? You think I’m a bird?”

  Dunk and Fabblydabbly meowed loudly.

  “What is it with cats and birds? They’re just birds! Leave them alone!”

  He looked over the edge and knew that he needed to face the fear of the large height, and step off.

  “Careful, you’ll fall!” called Mrs Weebley.

  “No,” Bennet said to her, not letting her destroy his confidence again. “I’ll dance.”

  He stepped off with his arms out like the music was playing and he was with Fennel again. In the tree not far away he imagined Fennel to be there, waiting for his embrace. But Fennel was not there. Instead, she was on the ground, running into his yard, calling for her cats and calling for him.

  “Bennet!”

  There was so much pain in her voice that it shocked him, hurt him, sent him out of his dream.

  He looked down, and dropped and down ... down ... down.

  Cats ran in all directions when he hit the ground. Fennel did not run, but hovered over his body. He did not move. There was no more flying, no more dancing, perhaps no more life.

  In the tree above, the birds were in terror over the marauding cats, and they were beginning to fly away, causing the cats to chase them. One cat was not with them, but was sitting on the grass watching Fennel; studying and learning. He was the leader, and content as any cat could ever be, thinking there will be no more birds, no more flying. Now the cats were in control of the world.

  “Leave him alone, you stupid cats!” Fennel yelled at them.

  Schnosenschnaft growled at her, and his eyes flashed. The remaining cats looked at her and then Schnosenschnaft, unsure where their loyalty should be. Fennel now saw them as far different creatures than hou
se-pets. Even the cats she thought were timid, she now saw in a new light. Sparrol, Zero and Woddel, and even dear Nicely, all showed that they could be dangerous. The usually frightened Farsol, and the cats that loved to hide, Lloyd and Missel, showed that they were far from nervous to be out in the world. The tougher cats, Garbygarby, Loop and Cantup, and the fearless cat Glider, looked wise more than dangerous.

  Dunk and Fabblydabbly then joined the assembled brood, and they too were startled by Fennel’s disapproval. All of them were unsure about what Schnosenschnaft wanted them to do next.

  She leaned down to Bennet and touched his head. “Bennet, please be alive,” she whispered. “Please dance for me again.”

  His eyes fluttered and he moaned. He tried to sit up but the pain in his back made him stop. “How could I think I could do that?” he asked himself. “Too high.”

  “Bennet, I’m so sorry my cats did this to you.”

  “Your cats? They’re your cats? They were trying to kill me. Why did you send them after me?”

  “I have no control over them. I think they thought you were a bird. Or something like that.”

  Then the cats returned from chasing the birds, and they waited behind Schnosenschnaft, ready to act on his command. They hissed and spat, and their fur was up and their fluffy tails were arched. Cantup had a bird in her mouth.

  Fennel tried to reason with them, reminding them who she was and that she was their mentor. They began to walk toward her, with determined eyes locked onto her. She had shown her where her loyalty was, and it was not to them. It was to their enemy.

  Schnosenschnaft leaned back on his hind legs.

  Bennet knew that he had to protect her. He flew up high and quickly swooped down at them, like he was dive-bombing. The plan worked and they ran away. He told Fennel to seek safety while he held them off, and he went up higher.

  Mrs Weebley, having removed her reading glasses, saw him and screamed hysterically, covering her face with her hands. She backed away to go inside her house. Bennet tried to tell her to not worry, but she did not hear him.

  The cats also backed away, unsure what to make of his new confidence. He was too high for them to attack, and they knew that he could swoop down on them, and they had no plan to counter it. Schnosenschnaft gave a short meow, a command that sent them running in all directions. Cantup dropped the bird from her mouth and it flipped itself onto its feet and flew away.

  Bennet looked at Fennel in triumph, and told her that he would no longer keep his flying a secret.

  “You did it,” she said. “You’ve saved the world.”

  “Dream-Fly-Mightily. That’s what I’ll tell him.”

  “Tell who?”

  “Darrel, at work. So he’ll no longer think death follows him. Instead, he can fly. You can too, Fennel. Everyone can! I know the secret! And I’m not afraid to tell everyone!”

  He soared up high above her and hovered there.

  Mrs Weebley came back out of her house with her husband’s old shotgun. Her eyes were wide and she was still screaming. Despite finding him horrifying to look at, with all his bleeding and weird floating, she took a good aim and shot him, hitting him in the chest and blasted him out of the air. He hit the guttering on the roof of his house.

  Then she got him better with a second shot.