Hello all! I couldn't fit it all on the subject line, but I have to send this in to one of those scholarship competitions and I would love it if I could get some feedback about what's good, bad, etc...thank soo much!
I had always wondered what it would be like to play with the wind. Every since I was a small boy, I would watch hurricanes and tornadoes rip through this great country of ours and wonder, what would I do with all that power? What would I do? But I have found out what I would do, and what would happen, and I am sorry. Truly, truly sorry…perhaps I should go back to when this first started. Not back then, when I was eight years old and staring in awe at the television screen, no…I mean when I first began to…experiment.
Well, it was a bright autumn day and the wind was nice and cool, sweet and pure. It was beautiful. I was staring out of my window, imagining myself floating upon the unseen hands of the wind, floating so lightly, freely. But that was when my girlfriend came down to annoy me. She was always questioning me about my fascination. “Tom,” she would sneer in her annoying nasal voice, “If you love the wind so much why don’t you marry it instead of me?” I had turned to her, wanting nothing more than to spit out, “Yes, perhaps I should. I bet it would be a lot less worthless than you!” But I did not say that. I simply stared into her eyes and did the one thing she hated: I laughed. As I had expected she ran far away from me, and I was left alone with my true love, the wind. I resumed my daydreaming, and perhaps for a reason, perhaps because I was mad, I began to murmur things—strange things—to the wind. And the funny thing was, it responded. My eyes flew open as I stared in wonder at this new revelation. I tried it again, and this time I concentrated on my words: Rise, Wind, rise! Heed my calls. I am your follower. Please, I ask thee to rise! I watched carefully as the trees swayed heavily, the branches creaking with the weight of phantom snow and pestering squirrels. It did it; the wind actually began to rise! I stopped murmuring and let my mind go blank. The wind stopped. I jumped up in glee. I had done it! I had just made contact with the unseen forces of the wind!! I screamed, not a scream of fear, but one of wonder, happiness, joy! I had done it! And that was when it all began. I should have stopped, I should have, but I didn’t…
Over the next several weeks I would sit for hours in front of the window, whispering to the wind, feeling my heart swell as the wind followed. I was afraid to go outside, however. It was powerful, and it would hurt me. I did have minimal control over it, but not enough to be out there alone with it while I manipulated it; it would surely try to harm me somehow, to be free of its cunning capturer. At night it haunted me. I fancied I could hear its light, terrifying voice whisper its way through the cracks in my door into my eardrum. Come, it would whisper, If you wish to control me, you must do it not from your house, but outside…with me…beside me… I was terrified, but after many sleepless nights with the voice haunting my dreams and waking hours, I decided to go outside and practice my new skill.
I knew the perfect place to stand; it was as if it had reserved it especially for me. The Great Conjuring Spot, as I called it, was a huge stump, which once housed an old oak tree. It was now termite-eaten and weathered, but it looked official. I climbed atop it and grinned an obscenely huge smile. The trees immediately responded by shuddering and the wind blew through my hair, violent and wild. For a moment this sudden response scared me, but I realized that the wind was trying to communicate. It’s all right. We hear you, we respond to you. We will obey…we will…I looked around, still with my grin, and screamed, “I’m here!” There was no one around to hear me (no one I would care about, anyways) and the wind pushed against me in a cheerful greeting. For several moments I simply stood, relishing my connection with it. This was my dream. This was my destiny.
But there it stopped. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. What do you say to almost the most powerful element there is? I sighed and shut my eyes. I felt like a complete failure. Here I had the perfect opportunity to do something great and I blew it…but then…something told me to lift up my hands, so I did. I lifted them high, palms raised up. I stood, eyes closed, bathed in sunlight and hugged by the wind’s gentle embrace. Suddenly I felt a pressure on my chest, and the wind picked up. I heard a whisper in my ear, slight and timid. “Hurry,” it told me, “Do what you came to do.” I opened my eyes and blinked in confusion. What was there to do? “Just listen,” the quiet voice said, and I did. Without being told, I sat down on the stump, Indian style, with my hands resting on my legs. Once more I closed my eyes against the bright distractions of reality. Immediately a song sprang to my lips and it flowed out gently. It wasn’t even in English, yet I spoke the enchanting language perfectly. At first it came out hoarsely, but by the end of the first minute and a half I spoke with such clarity and confidence that I wasn’t even sure if it was I talking at all. The wind responded immediately, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. With each crescendo of my voice, the wind would grow stronger, with every accelerando it would twist and turn about my head, and with every ritard or decrescendo the wind would die down, its unseen tendrils gently caressing my cheek and whispering though the trees. I believe that I was not myself that day; I was only the wind’s slave, a plaything—but I will get to that later.
Of course I did not notice when the sun set and the stars winked down on me from the heavens. I do not know the time at which I finished my chanting. I only remember opening my eyes and being blinded by morning’s adolescent light. I was slightly damp, and I wondered what the hell had happened to me. Did I jump into a pool, perhaps? I thought, and chuckled at my arid attempt at a joke. Still in cahoots, I glanced down at my watch—and choked. It was, according to the watch, 11am on Saturday morning! But that was absurdly impossible; I’d started this chanting nonsense at 6:30pm…the previous evening.
I began to shiver violently and stayed that way for many minutes. The wind had been silent, but it began to pick up speed and I felt invisible arms surround me. Again the voice came to me, in my ear, and with it came immediate calm. The wind continued to whisper, and obediently and intently I listened and took precise mental notes.
It had been a week since the first day I had begun chanting, and I learned a lot from the wind. It told me to break up with my girlfriend; she was only a distraction from my very important studies, and so I did. I began to eat less and sleep outdoors. The wind spoke to me and told me things about the world, though it would not tell me its real name. But most, and greatest of all, it told me about The Skill. All it wanted to do, the wind whispered to me one day, was to be free. I was greatly confused by this. “But you have to be. You’re the wind. You can go anywhere you want.” It giggled in my ear. “You are strong, and you are intelligent, but you are still ignorant. But it is quite all right. You will find out as soon as I teach you The Skill.” I nodded my head dumbly and murmured as if in a trance, “The Skill…” The wind ruffled my hair in approval of my obedience and whispered softly, “It will be quite fun.”
The Skill, it told me, was no more than one task. I was astonished, but the wind told me that it was harder than it sounded. “It takes much concentration, and you have to trust me.” I nodded obediently, not knowing what was to come.
In its whispered words, The Skill is supposed to “break open barriers that suppress me.” I nodded stupidly, seeing the sense in it all. Of course, I thought, no one should have barriers holding him or her back. I began training that day, sometimes staying outside for more than twelve hours. The chants were difficult and melodious, and though my tongue never stumbled, it wasn’t perfect enough for the wind. “When you say this,” the wind sighed, “You have to feel it; you have to concentrate. Let your mind go blank. And become part of me.” I always thought this last part was hilarious, and the old, saner part of me always laughed. It didn’t look upon this lightly. “That is your problem,” It told me, “You think this is a game.” My heart would go ice cold at this remark, because it was still a game…wasn’t it?
Perhaps I thought so because of my tendency to play instead of study. I would stand, raise my hands, and with my new abilities I would call upon the wind; North, East, South, West, please come to me. It would obey, and the winds would join together in one big pit of swirling air. It was a cacophony of tremendous roaring, and my maniacal laugh joined it in its hideous orchestra.
I think the first time it all began to fall apart was the day I messed up. I had been doing my work, learning The Skill, when I accidentally fumbled and stumbled over a couple of words. During my practice the wind had been blowing gently; suddenly it grew ten degrees colder. Clouds blocked out the sun and it whipped me viciously in the face. I looked around, confused. A low rumble sounded from deep within the earth and suddenly a large, angry voice roared, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I could say not a word. I was confused and scared; what had I done? “There’s not much time left! You have to get this perfect, dammit! If you stopped screwing around everything would be fine, don’t you know that?!” I began to shiver violently, but still I said nothing. I shut my eyes tightly against its supernatural anger and felt the wind pick up. It began to get stronger, and I began to wonder what the point of this showcase of anger was. I felt the reason. It was trying to get into my head.
It pushed harder against my skull and I screamed. Still it pushed on until I felt it penetrate my clothes, my hair—and my brain. In the wink of an eye I heard screams full of terror and agony fill my brain. I grabbed my head and shook it back and forth. It didn’t help. Below the horrid pandemonium’s consistent scream I heard its voice quite clearly: “This shall be your future. This is your purpose. This is my dream. And you WILL NOT MESS THIS UP!” I think I fell back, but I can’t recall. I can, however, recall the last words I heard before I faded into blackness. Shrill and innocent, a small voice began to cry out, “It’s coming, it’s coming! We’re all gonna die!”
When I awoke it was twilight. I glanced at my watch and found that I had probably been lying there on the ground for a day and a half. I was ravenous; I needed food and I needed it right then. But I lay perfectly still, listening in terrified anticipation for the wind. I may have lain there for an hour, perhaps two. It was during this time that I realized that I was its slave, it my master. I began to tear up and I sat up slowly, thinking about how to escape. But as soon as I moved the wind appeared from its hiding place in the heavens and I cowered back in fear. However it did not hurt me. Instead, it soothed me. “I’m terribly sorry,” it cooed. “I lost my temper. But look, we both want this finished, don’t we? Let’s just get this perfect so everything will be okay. Okay?”
It wrapped around my head and I moved my head in agreement. “Yes,” I said in a monotone voice, “We must finish. It’s for the best.”
I worked hard, and I worked honestly, but I also worked in fear. As I felt my tongue move and flip with the presence of the strange words, my mind would wander. Sometimes I would think about my ex-girlfriend. Was she having fun? I’d worry about my constantly thinning frame and aching joints. But what I’d think about the most was my childhood. How far had I come, since the day I looked out of my window and stared in awe as the trees danced to silent music? Was this really what I had wanted as a child? To be controlled by the wind to do who-the-hell knows what? I kept thinking about these things and how I should escape. But I never did. My body remained like that of a robot, and I worked on and on as the wind supervised my progress.
It must have been about a month after I had made the wind mad, and I still was no closer to “finishing this great deed.” I mean, I thought I was doing quite well, but evidently the wind disapproved. I could tell by the way it would wrap around my shoulders and sigh in my ear, as if to say, Why can’t you do this? Are you good for nothing? I sensed this, and it made me want to work more. After almost three months of the wind’s agonizing presence, I was tired and ready to finish this so that I could move far away from my capturer. But what place as there on Earth that was free from the wind? Nowhere was safe. I shuddered, thinking how bad this situation was. I was trapped; I was its prisoner. Even if I did finish, it could hunt me down in the Bahamas and force me to start this horrific cycle all over again. I felt fury bubble up in my stomach and rise into my throat. I bit my tongue to keep the scream out, but I knew my face was on fire. Just then a great idea came to me.
What if, after making the wind preoccupied with its freedom, or whatever it wanted, I ran far, far away and hid? I thought I could that. I could hide. Anything would be better than having to do this again. And the wind would not know where I was because I’d be so fast, I’d move like a—
The wind picked up and I sensed agitation. I concentrated furiously on the words leaving my mouth. Perhaps it was my anger, or perhaps it was desperation, but either way a miraculous thing happened. I felt my tongue click into place after saying one phrase that I knew was not at its best. But this time it was. The ground began to shake, and I looked around hastily, the rest of the words dying on my tongue. The wind swept around, over, under, and it whistled in my ear, as if it were laughing. It grew colder, and dismal, charcoal black clouds blocked out the sun. I felt fear prick into my stomach like a red-hot needle, and I began to tremble. The wind, however, whistled joyously and shrieked into my ear, “You did it! You did it! I—am—FREE!” I stared numbly, not comprehending. It was free, okay, so what? Nothing had changed; the world wasn’t over—
But it was. I realized that it was, in fact, growing colder and colder by the minute, until I could see my breath hang in the air. It was horrifyingly dark, like the velvet black of night. Except this wasn’t nearly as comforting.
Without another stupid, slow thought I jumped up and ran. I ran out of my backyard and away from the crazed, drunken wind. I glanced behind me, confident that I had, in deed, escaped, but what I saw did not make me laugh. Tears stung my eyes and a scream escaped from the depths of my soul. The wind, formerly a benevolent, silent, invisible friend, had turned into the messenger of Hell. I saw clearly the swirls of cold air as they pushed against each other, because they were black. It was just like smoke rising off of a candle, except this looked like Hell. It was midnight black, a color the wind was never meant to be. I could faintly see sheer patches of gray mingling in with these black swirls, but what I glimpsed in them made my heart turn to stone. There were faces in it. So many faces: children, the elderly, mothers and fathers. So many faces. They were all screaming. Screaming out my name. “Come join us.” They moaned. “You freed us, come join us.” I tried to run faster, but within moments I heard the wind roar, “Where are you going?” I kept running, running away from that voice, those faces, the blackened wind that looked like a pit of evil. “You are my servant, now and forever more! You gave me freedom, and you will help me take over this puny planet of yours!” At these words I stopped and fell on my face. Thoughts raced through my head. What? Destroy? But how?? The wind laughed, and as I looked up into the colorless sky, I saw how. All across the horizon I saw tornadoes forming. They were enormous, at least three times as big as the regular ones some states were plagued with. And they all had that same, dead, black color, and within them all there were hundreds, maybe thousands of faces. They moaned in pain, rushing by as the tornadoes destroyed what used to be my neighborhood. I looked back towards my house, in the west, and saw that the wind had risen high above the earth, and was now sending its gusts straight downward, tearing down trees and destroying houses. I looked to the north and saw rain beginning to fall. Huge gusts of winds pushed the rain around and broke windows, dented cars. I looked to the south and the ocean, but beyond that—
I turned my head away and found that I was crying. The wind was destroying the earth. It had sent upon us typhoons, hurricanes, tornadoes, and winds, all harsh, strong, and deadly. There was a high whistling in the air and I covered my ears. No longer would I listen to this, to it. I ran back to my house and opened my door. It flew off the hinges. I ran to the closet, watching with sorrow as pictures, furniture, and other items flew to the ground. I looked down at a shattered picture of my ex-girlfriend, and then I heard her.
“How could you do this?” I looked up, surprised. And then I screamed. I screamed like I had never screamed before in my life. My girlfriend was standing in front of me, but she was not. It was her face, forever imprisoned in the wind’s mighty force. Her dead gray eyes, once a vibrant blue, held heart-breaking sorrow. Her mouth was twisted in a grimace of everlasting pain and torture. “Was this your wish? Your fantasy?” Her devilish voice moaned. “To send us all to hell?” I screamed again and covered my eyes. Tears flew out of my eyes and the face vanished. In its place was the wind’s voice, again. “Dear servant! Why do you run? You will never escape me! You are mine now, and there’s nothing you can do!” “But why?” I breathed, and it replied. “I have never been able to concentrate all of my power in one place before, so I needed someone to help me, someone to free me from the restrictions placed upon my power. That someone was you. You were so willing to help, so eager…” “No!” I sobbed, “I didn’t know, I didn’t know…” The wind continued. “I am nothing and everything. I see all. I have always had the power, but now I have it all in one place.” I backed away slowly. “No, no, no!” “You are coming with me! You will join your little friends and me for all eternity! You chose your fate. Now you must live with it!” “NO!” I screamed, and ran furiously down to the basement, abandoning the closet idea. “I will get you eventually!” I heard behind me, but I didn’t stop.
And so here I sit, in my ruined house, rushing to write down my story of my ultimate betrayal. The wind is playing with me, making me wait until he comes to kill me in such a horrible way that it would make even the mightiest fall. The sun will shine no more, and it is all my fault. How did this happen? Once I was just a simple child, wanting companionship, but now look. I have destroyed the world, its children, and the future. I have let everyone down, and I have sent us all to some sick, twisted version of the relentless wind’s Hell. So here I wait, waiting for my torturous demise—
It is here.
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