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The song of the wind

I am nothing but a person.
I am not extraordinary, or magnificent, I am flat, plain 2D in a 3D world.
I could leave without a trace.
So why do you talk to me? I walk down the halls alone, but you run up and chat my ear off about the way wind can sing sweeter, than any bird that lived. I listen in silence, alone in my thoughts. How can the wind sing? It has no voice, no physical form to have a throat or vocal cords for a voice to sing with. But you dint care. You just ramble on despite all logic. It amazes me. How can someone be so free? So unburdened with life and all the things that go with it?
You wander off, leaving me alone, so you can go to your next class. I shuffle through the empty hall till I find a classroom empty. I duck in, and pull out my book. There will never be another book I read.
I flip to a random page, and read until the bell sounds. Then I hop up and gather m things to try and walk in the halls at the right time and place so you will talk to me about the winds song.
I wish I could hear it.
I walk right past you and you run up and start yammering about the rains sunlight. This makes no sense, rain has no sunlight. It isn’t possible for it to rain and be sunny. I tell you, but you just say,
“Yes it does.”
And so it does. I will try to look for it the next time it rains. I want to be able to talk to you about it. Then the bell rings to signal schools end and you leave, to catch up to a girl who doesn’t want to hear wind sing, or find rains sunlight.
An you leave behind the person who does.
Then I rummage through my worn leather bag, not nearly as amazing as yours by the way, and I find something that makes me scream in terror.
My book is gone.
I then calmly proceed to freak out and dump my bag out on to the hard concrete, not caring about any delicate content. I search, and hunt, and dig, but all I find is paper that has no meaning, tubes of I-don’t-care, and a single bag of junk. Nothing like my book.
That empty classroom. I run, leaving everything there, to that hideous room that selfishly stole my book. When I get there, the room is empty. Disappointed I turn to leave, but when I do, something shiny catches my eye. I grab it off the farthest desk. Its your handwriting.

Hey. I assumed you would come here sometime. I hope you find all these items;

-The song of the wind

-The sunlight of rain

-Your soul
You have the best life. Make the most of it.


Then I look under the note to find the shiny thing. It’s a key. To what I have no idea.
I call you. You don’t answer. I still have no idea what the key is for.





What does it unlock?



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dbacksgirl29This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Mar. 27, 2012 at 9:13 pm:
I wanna meet this guy! Anyway great story and just like all your others I loved it! :)
 
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