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Windy

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Jane sat in the old, wooden rocking chair in the corner of the cabin. She sat there stiff, like the air outside. She sat perfectly still, and she had her feet planted so hard into the floor that it was impossible for the chair to rock or move at all. She looked dead. She was not, though, for her chest showed motion. She was breathing very hard, and rapidly. Up and down her chest went. Air rushed into her lungs and was pushed back out of them just as quickly. Her breath was silent though. There was no sound in the room. The only sound was the wind starting to blow and whistle outside. Her skin looked pail, as if it was the skin of a ghost. Her face had a slight green tint to it; the resulting look of her veins showing through her, what seemed to be almost transparent, skin. Her eyes held bags underneath them causing them to look more sunken in than they really were. They had grey shadows around them, as well, which added to the appearance of her being dead. Her hair was blondish, with faded highlights of brown in it, and it was straight and frazzled at the ends. Her lips started to purse together. The wind blew harder and louder. Small drops of rain splattered against the windows of the cabin. Jane’s eyes started to gather tears in the corners, but they dared not roll over her delicate lids. The sky was pitch black. A storm was awaiting its destructive arrival. Jane’s face started to turn slightly pink from her intense heart rate. The soft flesh that bordered her pursed lips was white from all the pressure. Her eyes became beady and seemed to appear darker than before. The storm moved closer. The small drops of rain enlarged and stroked the windows louder now. There was tension in the air. The windows started to fog on the inside and frost on the out. The wind was bitter and mean. Her eyes continued to fill causing her vision to blur slightly. The storm continued to develop. Her teeth clenched so hard the veins on the sides of her temples started to pop out.
Her hands lay still on the old wooden arms of the chair. They almost seemed almost comfortable, calm, as if they were holding her happiness in them, away from her until her episode passed. A tear dropped. Lightning cracked and lit up the entire sky, not more than a half a second passed and thunder roared, shaking the ground and the cabins wall. The tear slid down her pores, passed the creases of her nose, into the crevasses of her still tightened lips, and finally fell of her chin. The tiny teardrop soaked a small spot of her shirt.





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