Peering fearfully over the edge (he’d never liked heights) Seymour took in the long drop below him. He had never fit in or been like the others. He’d paid for his differences with constant ridicule. It was time to end his suffering.
Before he could muster the nerve to change his mind, he flung himself off the cliff. The wind rushed past him as he plummeted towards the rocky beach. His end was near.
Then the wind caught his wings and he glided out safely towards the sea.
“Dammit!” he thought.
Seymour the seagull had forgotten he could fly.
Word Count: 99
[This is my entry into this weeks Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Use the photo prompt to create a short story in 100 words or less.]