Sky beneath the wings -Md Sazzadul Islam

It was the perfect day for a flight. The sky stretched endlessly, a vast ocean of azure where clouds drifted like islands. A warm breeze played with the leaves, and the sun kissed the earth with golden rays. For 17-year-old Rafiq, it was the kind of day that always made his heart race. He longed to soar beyond the reach of gravity, to feel the wind rushing past his face as he gazed down upon the world.

But Rafiq was not alone in his desire.

In a hidden corner of the old city, far from prying eyes, a secret society of dreamers and inventors gathered every month. They called themselves The Skybound Circle, a group dedicated to unlocking the mysteries of flight without engines or machines. Their motto, written in delicate calligraphy, was: “He who reflects on the signs of the heavens will find the truth within.”

Rafiq had stumbled upon the Circle by accident three months earlier while searching for spare parts in the souk. He had followed a man with a peculiar copper pin shaped like a wing, noticing how he slipped through a narrow passage behind the spice vendor’s stall. Curiosity had burned within him. He had followed, only to discover a hidden workshop buzzing with the hum of innovation and secrets.

Tonight, the Circle was meeting again, and the air crackled with anticipation. The leader, an enigmatic man known only as Raja, stood before a long wooden table, where an intricate set of blueprints lay unfurled. His dark eyes gleamed as he addressed the group.

“My brothers and sisters,” he began, “tonight we will attempt the impossible. We will test the Ayla Wings—a design inspired by the ancient Muslim scholars who studied the flight of birds.”

The room stirred with whispers. Rafiq’s heart pounded. He had read about the brilliant minds of Islamic history—like Abbas Ibn Firnas, who constructed a glider centuries ago, and the legendary Al-Jazari, who built machines that mimicked life itself. But this? This was something beyond his wildest dreams.

“Who will be the first to fly?” Raja’s gaze swept over the gathered dreamers.

Silence fell.

Rafiq felt a strange pull in his chest, as though an unseen force was guiding him. He raised his hand, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his stomach. “I will.”

Raja nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Courage is the first step toward the sky.”

The Preparation
An hour later, Rafiq stood atop the abandoned watchtower on the city’s outskirts. The Circle had worked swiftly, fastening the Ayla Wings to his arms and back. Crafted from lightweight bamboo and reinforced with silk and leather, the wings felt both ancient and futuristic—a fusion of knowledge passed down through generations.

“Remember,” Raja whispered as he tightened the final strap, “trust in Allah’s design. Birds do not question the wind; they ride it.”

Rafiq swallowed hard, nodding. His mind raced with Quranic verses he had memorized as a child. Do they not look at the birds controlled in the atmosphere of the sky? None holds them up except Allah (Surah Al-Mulk, 67:19).

The wind howled around him as he stepped to the edge. Below, the desert spread like a vast tapestry, with shadows stretching long under the moonlight. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and jumped.

The Flight
For a heartbeat, there was only silence.

Then, the wind caught the wings, lifting him. Rafiq’s eyes snapped open as he felt the impossible sensation of rising. His heart surged with exhilaration. He soared higher and higher, the world shrinking beneath him.

He shouted in triumph, his voice carried away by the night. The city glittered below like a sea of stars, and the horizon stretched endlessly. His wings responded to his movements, tilting and turning as he guided them. He had never felt so alive.

But joy quickly gave way to terror.
A sudden gust of wind slammed into him, throwing him off balance. The wings wobbled violently, and for a sickening moment, he plummeted. His mind raced as he fought for control, remembering Raja’s words about trusting the wind. He adjusted his posture, spreading his arms wide to stabilize himself.

The wings steadied, but the danger wasn’t over.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark shape rising from the desert—a figure shrouded in shadow, moving with unnatural speed. His breath caught. It was no bird. It was something far more sinister.

The Pursuer
“Do not look down,” he muttered to himself, his voice trembling.
The dark shape grew closer. It had the form of a man, but its eyes glowed with an eerie red light. Its wings, leathery and jagged, beat the air with a sound like thunder. A voice, cold and serpentine, echoed in his mind.

“You cannot escape me.”
Panic surged through Rafiq’s veins. He pushed the wings harder, climbing higher, his breath ragged. His mind raced through the stories of old—legends of jinn that haunted the desert, creatures that could take to the skies.

“Seek refuge in Allah from the evil of His creation,” he whispered.

With every ounce of strength, he recited, “A’oodhu billahi min ash-shaytanir-rajeem.” The words gave him courage, a shield against the fear threatening to consume him.

The pursuer screeched in fury, its form flickering as though made of smoke and flame. Rafiq felt a surge of hope. He recited again, louder this time, his voice steady. The creature faltered, its eyes dimming.

The Descent
As dawn broke on the horizon, the first rays of light pierced the darkness. The creature let out a final, anguished wail before dissolving into the wind. Rafiq’s heart pounded as he soared above the desert, his soul filled with gratitude.

He guided the wings gently downward, landing on a dune as the sun bathed the world in gold. He collapsed to his knees, breathless, tears streaming down his face.

Raja and the Circle arrived moments later, their eyes wide with wonder and relief.

“You flew,” Raja said softly, awe in his voice. “You truly flew.”

Rafiq nodded, his chest heaving. “And I prayed.”

Raja smiled. “Faith is the wind beneath all wings.”