Skybound

Written by Sara Feng from Bethpage High School, New York, USA

Lina had always believed the sky was honest. Planes, clouds, sunlight – those were predictable things. Solid things. Things that stayed in their place.

That was why, when the impossible appeared outside her airplane window, her reality didn’t just bend. It shattered.

Lina’s forehead rested lightly against the window, the faint hum of the plane vibrating through her bones. The sky outside stretched wide and bright, a calm blue ocean she used to stare at whenever she needed to feel steady.

Today, she needed it more than ever.

Her thoughts drifted, soft and slow, imagining books drifting like birds, a silly daydream she often used to comfort herself.

But then something moved. Not a bird. Not a cloud.

A book.

A real book.

It flipped end over end beside the plane, its pages slapping wildly in the wind.

“What…?” Lina whispered, her stomach dropping.

She blinked hard, but the sky didn’t return to normal.

Dozens of books, hundreds, poured out of the clouds, gliding in formation like a migrating flock. Sunlight flashed across their covers. Words lifted from the pages like dust rising in warm air.

Lina pressed her hand to the window.

“This can’t be real,” she whispered, but her voice trembled.

No one else on the plane noticed. No one gasped. No one pointed.

The sky was changing only for her.

Hours later, when the plane finally landed, Lina’s hands were still shaking. The tug in her chest, the strange sense of being pulled toward something, only grew stronger.

She followed it.

And she found herself wandering into a forest.

The air grew heavier the deeper she stepped, shadows creeping between the trees like something alive. Branches leaned inward, as though listening.

“What is this place…?” she murmured.

But the forest didn’t answer in words. Instead, it opened.

A stunning village blossomed before her, glowing softly under a canopy of light. Books floated through the air like lanterns, drifting slowly between cottages made of stone and emanating warm light.

It felt alive. It felt ancient.

It felt like it knew her.

Lina stepped forward, her breath catching as the wind brushed her hair, lifting it gently, almost tenderly, like welcoming hands.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said out loud, as if someone might answer.

And something did.

A low, distant rumble trembled through the trees. The ground shifted beneath her bare feet as she stepped onto a patch of soft, green grass. Dozens of books lined the path ahead, their covers trembling, their pages glowing faintly from within.

One book began to hum. Another vibrated.

A third rose into the air.

“No, no, no…” Lina whispered, backing away. “This isn’t real.”

But the book floated toward her, turning slowly, its pages rustling like whispered words. A beam of warm, golden light spilled from between the pages, wrapping around her hands.

Lina stumbled backwards, panic snapping through her chest. She turned and fled into the forest, the trees blurring around her as she sprinted. Her lungs burned, her legs shook, but she didn’t stop until…

The village appeared in front of her again.

“No,” she gasped. “I ran in the opposite direction. I know I did.”

She tried another path.

The village returned.

A third.

The village returned again.

The world wasn’t obeying the rules anymore.

It was obeying her.

Books drifted toward her slowly, their pages brushing her arms, light and warm. Instead of frightening her this time, it felt almost like… encouragement.

“Are you trying to show me something?” Lina whispered.

A soft rustle answered, a thousand pages turning at once.

She followed them.

And atop a hill glowing with scattered light, she found them, hundreds of books swirling gracefully in an intricate, synchronized dance. They dipped low, rose high, spun in spirals that made her chest ache with wonder.

Lina sat among them, breathing hard, the world tilting with the weight of too many impossible truths.

One book drifted into her lap.

Its cover was worn. Familiar.

“I know you,” Lina whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “I’ve seen you before.”

Memories surfaced: her infancy, a soft light near her crib, a book always appearing beside her. The feeling of being watched over. Guided. Protected.

Her breath hitched.

“This wasn’t the first time,” she whispered. “You’ve been with me… forever.”

As if hearing her, the book fluttered open. Pages flipped rapidly, stopping at an image: her first steps, drawn in delicate ink. Then another, her first library visit. Another, a childhood dream she had forgotten but now remembered perfectly.

Her entire life, written in its pages.

Lina reached out, touching the paper with shaking fingers.

Light burst around her.

The forest dissolved. The hill vanished. The village, the trees, the earth itself disappeared in a swirl of glowing ink.

When the world stilled, Lina found herself suspended in the open sky, weightless, holding the same book against her chest.

And all around her, books soared.

Not dreams.

Not hallucinations.

Real.

Skybound.

Just like they always wanted her to see.

Artist Statement:

Peace is often imagined as silence after conflict, but I believe it is something much deeper. In my stories, peace is discovered through courage, compassion, acceptance, and the willingness to face the unknown. Each story follows a character who begins in fear or uncertainty and ends with a greater sense of understanding, healing, or belonging.

In Skybound, Lina's ordinary world is transformed when impossible books fill the sky and lead her to a hidden village. What begins as confusion becomes a journey of self-discovery as she realizes the magic has always been part of her life. Her acceptance of the extraordinary reveals that peace comes from embracing who we are and where we belong.