When the wind blows

An old man is not what he seems

When the wind blows

 

 

The wind was changing. He could feel it, served cold with a touch of salt, as it danced its merry way through city. The wind, was, changing. Too old to live and far too stubborn to die he pulled himself from his resting place and started to move.

Crowds parted before him like oceans before the better class of prophet but he paid them no attention. He couldn’t have much time left, he was getting slow. Maybe it was time to pack it in like all the others, move on to better things? But then he felt the sun on his face and he smiled, no. He could leave it a couple of hundred years. There was no need to rush, not when there were still days like this. A breeze caught the edge of his coat and flicked it playfully around his heels. The wind was changing and if he didn’t hurry it would be too late.

In the city life still rushed and roared as powerfully as it had always done, but on the beach everything was silent. He climbed the stonewall that guarded the sea from man and dropped onto the wet sand that sucked at his bare feet. The wind had really picked up now, urging the waves on and rushing giddily into the maze of streets behind him. He was just in time.

One more step and he was there, on the boundary between land and sea.  He spread his arms and screamed at the sky. The sky screamed back. The wind slammed down his throat and filled his mouth. It ripped the clothes from his body, peeled him to nothing more than a frail, pink stick of flesh on the shore and still it screamed and roared with a rage that no man or beast could ever summon because every man and beast has what a storm lacks, mercy. And then the wind changed.

On the boundary between land and sea it changed and in the centre of a world that had just been created the man stood and changed with it. For an infinitesimal second of gargantuan importance his lungs became wisps of fog, his eyes became a gentle breeze and his mind became a thunderclap. The world reeled.

The storm moved on, beaten and confused, leaving a man kneeling on one knee at the boundary between land and sea. When he stood, it was like watching an entire mountain falling in reverse. His golden skin bulged with power and his eyes glimmered the light of untouched stars. With a grin that was much older than the lips it now traversed the god of the sky picked up his clothes and walked back into the world.

 

Author's Note

Very short but the school seems to think that four hundred words is enough for a short story.

Reviews

[SobrietyHaze]

Wow! This only proves that length does not make a good story.

"He could feel it, served cold with a touch of salt..." Is absolutely genuius!! I love this story...read it countless times already.

[spence]

I never thought much of school. What I mostly learned how to be bullied for being different/poor/'alternative' and then learned how to fight and lie to survive. I was the archetype rebel, (green mohican and facial peircings, in the main), and spent most of my time actively undermining adult authority and annoying trendy arseholes. I'm 37 and still proud to say that i had the worst ever attendance at my secondary school, (six days in the final two years did it i think!)
The story though. You've met their very rigid limitations with deft skill and condensed the tale with concise language to very good effect. This could be used as a good example of the 'show don't tell' wisdom of writing prose. The descriptions of the wind 'dancing the streets' and even the way you showed the reader his attire with the mention of the hem of the coat at his heels. That is exceptional, in my opinion- you're teachers should hold this short in high esteem.
Would you consider working on this, or any of your other short stories, in your leisure time? I'm curious, because this reads like a very good opening to a much bigger story and it may be a good way to utilise the restrictions of the education system for the benefit of your own learning. It has the ability to instill self-discipline if nothing else!
Great work once again- you'll go far if this is the standard you write at now. I look forward to reading more, take care, spence