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Paper Planes

   It was the post man with lots of cards and letters, and two celebratory telegrams to mark his One Hundredth birthday.  One from the Queen, and the other from his parents.  It was a very special day, and Cedric was feeling very special.
    Birthday greetings from everyone he knew, and from many people he didn’t.  Everyone thought it was wonderful, but to Cedric it was just another day.  “Just as it is”  he would say.  Quietly he  did concede that it was a  bit special  “But look at them” was his usual comment, referring to his mother and father, “they’re the one who are really wonderful”
   And so they were of course, and they shared a secret, for they had come from families with mystical powers; and each had inherited some magical genes from an ancestor, so when Cedric was born he inherited the special powers from them both.  Oh it was not on the scale of Merlin or some of the other big names in the business, although with his old fashioned cloths, his long straggly white hair and beard, he looked the part.  No; Cedric was more like a gifted amateur, and as he grew up he was taught to use his skills wisely and carefully.  He would amuse and entertain his friends, usually leaving them amazed; but he always took care not to beggar belief, even now and again contriving to make a little mistake, so that no one ever suspected that it really was magic.
   But one of his ancestors must have had a mischievous streak in him (or her) for just just  occasionally the magic would break out of Cedric’s control, and would threaten to expose him, or at least bring about some awkward questions.  
    As he was wading through his mountain of messages, he started to think back over his long life,  and to recall some of those times  when his special powers nearly got him into trouble.  One in particular came to mind.  Head back now, though not asleep, his thoughts  went back to the time of  the paper aeroplanes.
   Making models and designs out of paper, an art form borrowed from the orient, was something that Cedric had often done, for it was a useful ploy which helped to mask his own powers.  He remembered that time long ago when he had thought to amuse his young friends in the town by showing them how to make paper aeroplanes that would fly better than any they had seen before.  Most of the youngsters got  it straight off, and what fun they had; but some of them couldn’t quite get the hang of it so  Cedric wrote out some instructions on a sheet of paper, and sent them off to practice at home.
   Soon there were paper aeroplanes flying all over the place, and people - not only the children - were astonished at how long they would stay in the sky.
    Now, as mentioned  before, Cedric was careful to cover his tracks with a little ‘mistake’ here and there; small errors  designed to occasionally cause his magic to be slightly flawed,  but would not have any other drastic effects. But on that day that is just what happened, for, when writing the instructions down for the slow learners, he actually did make a crucial error.  The paper planes made from these plans turned out to fly as straight as an arrow,  no matter the wind or the rain; and when launched they just went on and on.  He thought that the kids would become bored with the unvarying flight of these models and soon forget about them, but he had misjudged the inventiveness of young boys.
   Small boys now had the means to knock on doors from a very safe distance, and didn’t even have to run away.  Boys not so small found that these missiles - for if thrown with force that is what they became - when aimed at windows would often hit them with inevitable results.  
    Senior and elderly members of the community would often, if male, have their hats knocked off, and if female, would suffer a mysterious ‘slap’ on the bottom.  Dignity and tempers started to suffer, and complaints began to come in the front desk of the police station.  People started to notice an unusual number of ‘shooting stars’, unaware that they were witnessing the results of those projectiles which had missed their targets and had then sailed away into the sky, passing through the town, and if not ending their flight in collision with a church spire or other large building, would escape the confines of man, to fly forever with the stars.
   Inevitably the towns-folk started to get suspicious, some of them were even worried, and then one of Cedric’s drawings found its way to the local newspaper office.
   Rat tat tat , came the knock on his door, and when Cedric opened it there was a reporter, notebook and pencil in one hand, and his aeroplane sketch in the other.
   “What do you know about all this, and what do you have to say about it?”  the fledgling Alan Wicker asked.
   “I don’t know why you are asking me” Cedric answered, trying to bluff his way out of a tight corner. But everyone knew, or at least guessed,  that he was behind it all, and some of the towns-people were becoming very angry.
   He managed to evade the most searching questions, and contrived to conceal the reporters plan of the paper plane, so that when he had left he was able to study it carefully.  He made a few little changes to his drawing and then he entered a dream like state, with much muttering and fluttering eyes.  This continued for a few minutes, before he sat down, out of breath, and wearing an anxious look on his face.  
    It took a day or two before he knew whether the job was done, but gradually it immerged that the boys in the town were no longer terrorising their neighbours, that new and unaccountable stars were no longer puzzling the astronomical community, and that airborne mischief making seemed to have come to and end.
   However a new phenomenon had taken its place.  Instead of flying in a straight line, these little paper works of art were now flying with graceful arcs and curves, diving and swooping, only to find height and space once more, to beautify the sky with further breathtaking manoeuvres. They were just like kites controlled by expert hands, but without any strings. Then, somehow obeying an unspoken command, and after seeming to defy gravity beyond all possibility, they would come to earth with  a graceful flop,  landing at the feet of the thrower.
   Cedric was a happy man again, secretly pleased with himself for all the fun he had caused, but slightly shame-faced for the discontent he had brought to the older folks - even though some of them were  younger than he.  Most of all though he was pleased to have regained his status in his community.
   Rat tat tat on the door once more. “Oh’ I do hope its not that reporter again”   Cedric thought, his mind still in the past.  As he lifted  himself from the chair and rose to see who his visitor might be,  he realised that he was still in his day dream, back in time to an event long since past.   Suddenly he was the old man again, wide awake now and alert after his little sojourn down memory lane.  
    He opened his door to a group of children and some of their mums and dads who had come to wish him a happy birthday.  Once inside now, all provided with cakes and pop, it was a  pleasant, if rather noisy half hour, before he was on his own again.  
    “Perhaps its about time I gave up this magic nonsense” he said to himself with a wry smile, still thinking about the paper plane episode.  He went to his bookshelf and took down one of his favourite books.
    “This should keep me occupied.” he said to himself, as he sat down to read.
   His book was called ‘The Magic of Japanese Origami’.


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