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The Winds This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

The Winds


She stands, surrounded by the blazing glory that only fall can bring. Two tall oaks shower bright leaves all around her. She catches one, all creamily golden and vibrant with deep red, and she releases it, slowly fluttering to the Winds, as if borne upon an invisible current with delightful little loops and turns.

Her favorite part of autumn is the winds. Such winds cannot be experienced in any other season. The sharp, clear breezes question her beliefs in all science; is it possible not to be carried away with it? And then the mellow gusts present only in the golden twilights, when the world slowly releases its beauty, free of envy since the great, dark night envelops all. She believes that only fairies (which, of course, are really what fireflies are) have the ability to see such nocturnal wonders. She thinks Nature is too mean in concealing all the sparkling, magical things that occur during the night. But such is the woeful lot of humans.

And then the mourning Winds which utter their tragic, doleful songs throughout the evening that causes the trees to violently shake in pity; those almost frighten her, but not really, because she knows that the Winds have nothing against her. They like her, and whistle gaily sometimes when they pass. She hears them calling:

“Come with us, we’ll show you where we come from. You can visit us sometime.”

But every fall passes, and winter comes, and then the Winds return to their home, exhausted from their romp. And the little girl could never seem to follow them. But someday, she knows, she will. Soon, she always thinks wistfully at first snowfall, soon I will see where the Winds come from, and I’ll stay awhile. Such fun! What times we’ll have together!

So as the little girl stands, encircled by the oaks, elms, milky aspens, and dark, spicy pines, she feels the familiar feeling. You know the feeling when your heart sprouts wings, soaring above earth, when you are fully what they call soul. And only when the Winds pass, caressing you with their cool, velvety touch, can you feel it. That’s when you know the Winds are calling.

This time, the little girl determines to follow. She chases them eagerly, terrified of losing their path. But somehow, they want her to follow. She runs across numerous terrains, sustained by the winds gift of boundless energy. And suddenly, she is flying, soaring above the world, uplifted by the very generous Breeze. Laughter rings into the sky, her laughter. So light of heart and above earthly cares, she glides through the cerulean heights.

But what does she see in the distance? No, it can’t be. But it is! The Winds’ home!

Such glory cannot be conveyed in common language. Not perfectly, at least; only fairy chatter, the silvery tinkle of bells or the silence of the cool, dark evening can describe the scene before the little girl. A vast, grand cathedral stands alone, floating upon the uplifted hopes and dreams of earthlings. Constructed of prisms, it shimmers in all imaginable colors as well as those unimaginable. Deep, royal purple and silky blue wind chimes cluster about the palace. Golden and silver ones occupy the lofty turrets above her. And the most delicious music! Issuing from the deeps within and without a lively, soulful song floats away from the building. In fact, it is visible in the bright streams flowing from the castle. The little girl never felt so alive.

And poof! Her eyes pop open. Snuggled under warm quilts and as close to the ground as can be, the little girl resolves harder than ever to find the Winds’ dwelling.



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kitty.mewmew said...
Sept. 26, 2012 at 11:26 pm
Good job on this story!! I really loved the images and descriptions. =)
 
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