Wind Whispers
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The rain falls over the bluff, yet the woman resting against the stone winged statue seems not to notice, as the winds swirl the raindrops so that only a few land on her hair, and none land on the recently opened page. Her eyes are distant, unfocussed and she murmurs softly "As you wish". Sighing softly she puts the quill to the page.
When did fancies become things that hurt? that cause pain? that create heartache? I used to think that fancies were the brief bright daydreams that took you away from a task that was too mind numbing to give your full attention…I guess growing up changes more things than you realise.
A drop splatters on the page and she looks up again to the distance, a flash of lightning revealing a silver track on her cheek. She watches the storm, the trees thrashing, the lightning flashing, feeling the thunder reverberate in her chest. She looks down at the page, at the quill and back across the land. "Does this get any easier? Does it ever make any sense? I already know that -you're- sure it's necessary" Her hair is gently ruffled, errant strands dancing across her cheeks. "I'm not arguing, I will do as -you- wish, I just don't know how to start, how do you hold a breeze? Perhaps that's where it should start…" She lets the quill rest gently against the page, before the words start to flow.
It's a good question - How do you hold a breeze? And on the surface the answer is simple - you can't. The complex answer is to make the breeze want to hold you. And I'm not entirely sure I know how to do that. And maybe the true answer is that you both have to want to hold each other.
I've been foolish, I let myself believe a fancy because it felt nice, because I wanted it to be real, because I wanted to believe that I had left being a "Freak" behind. And because I wanted it to be real, because I believed it -was- real, I got hurt - or rather I hurt myself as reality intruded and the fancy crumbled, as fancies will do in the light of day, and I think I hurt others, I know I created conflict and confusion and possibly pain.
I wanted to believe that I would never again feel as alone as I did when the guard warned me that I wasn't welcome at the Norwick fire, that perhaps it would be best if I found another place to call home in this land, that my motives were seen as unworthy, that while I wasn't banned from the town, it was perhaps best if I just passed through.
She takes some deep breaths, initially fast, then slowing, calming. She notices that the storm has blown itself out, and the sun is making rainbows dance from the raindrops on the blades of grass. She smiles and retuns the quill to the page.
I -was- foolish - but I've done my best to fix that. I've admitted my mistake, oh God's what awkward conversations those were She crinkles her brow remembering and shakes her head slightly I hope I've learned something. Not to guard my heart to tightly - a heart can wither if no light is let in, but to guard it carefully, not to throw it out in the world, where unsuspecting it gets bumped, or bruised or potentially broken, but to let it shine and see what the light brings to you.
The tighter you try to hold a breeze, the less you have in your hands. You can't hold a breeze, but you can let the breeze hold you..
As the last rainbows fade with the drying raindrops, she looks into the distance and murmurs softly "Is that enough for today?"
Her hair is gently caressed by gentle breezes, and an errant strand of hair dances across her face before it tickles her nose. She lifts her face to the sky and smiles.
