JustinCarter

It was noon when the tornado struck the ground. The clouds played across the sky, creating a twisted chasm of blackness. The sun showed dully through the ever-twisting clouds. Jerry, a kid the age of 14, looked outside his classroom window. Was school over yet? He shook his head. School wasn’t over until it was over. The clock on the back wall read 11:15.

Jerry remembered his father. How many times had he talked to him about it? It was three, yes, that was what it was. He remembered his dad talking to him about it. What was it? Jerry couldn’t remember. No matter. Lunch was soon.

The teacher stood at the front of the classroom droning on and on about the equations needed for the easy assembly of the who-knows-what. Jerry didn’t care. As long as the Wind came. The Wind was all he needed. At least, that is what he thought.

Jerry remembered suddenly. He remembered the talks. The talks were when he was a small child. Maybe four or five. It didn’t matter. He remembered what they were about now. They were about the Wind. He remembered because he looked outside his window and saw the same birch tree blowing in the wind, the same one he saw when the Wind came. No. It couldn’t be the same one. There is no evidence; no way it could be true.

Jerry searched his mind. He remembered his dad taking him to Luther Park. That was always fun. That was where the talks were.

Can you hear me?
The talks had something to do with the Wind. But still, Jerry could not remember.

Can you see me?

He remembered his father’s long black hair. It was at least down to his shoulders. He also remembered his father’s voice. It was light. It sounded calm, and cool. Calm like the Wind.

Oh, can you feel me?

The same birch. The same tree. It couldn’t be. He remembered his father’s tall, well-built body. He was Jerry’s guardian. But not now. Now his father was running. Running like the Wind.

Can you taste that, Jerry? That’s what the Wind tastes like. Try it. It’s pretty good. And it makes you run. Would you like to run?

The memories came flooding back. His father had taken him to the park. It was cold outside. Not the kind of cold that makes you shiver. It was the kind of cold that made the hair on your back prick up, like a dog’s ears. It was the Wind. The Wind made it cold.

Don’t make us make you, Jerry. We know what you want, what you need. What you need is a partner. Maybe the Wind?

Enough about the Wind. It wasn’t important. What was important was the memory. Already it was fading away. Jerry seized it and brought it back. He remembered the words now.

“Don’t use it too much. Try and keep it special. And keep it for the harsh.”

What was his father talking about? It could be anything. Maybe a toy? But that last sentence made no sense. Keep it for the harsh? What could that possibly mean? Certainly, a toy could not be used for the harsh.

But the Wind can. C’mon. Don’t be afraid. Unless you’re a fraidy cat…fraidy cat…fraidy cat…

“Fraidy cat…” he muttered.

Now he remembered. It was about a power. It had to be kept special, right? Kept for the harsh. It had to be. And he couldn’t use it too much.

But you need to.

Why did he need to? What the hell was this thing? Why was it tugging at his mind, and why now? He glanced at the clock. 11:49 had read straight back. Time flies when you’re

not using it. Use it. Now.

He remembered now. The scene played back to him in his mind.

His father was crouched down on his knees, so he could talk to his 5-year-old Jerry, face-to-face. The Wind swept through his long black hair. The Wind swept through Jerry’s own brown hair. It was past his ears when he was 5. Now it was past his ear lobes. His father glanced at the birch behind him, and the Wind came.

The tree swayed in the Wind, it swayed, over and over, and it put Jerry under a noxious trance. His father leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I grant you the power. It’s yours. Don’t use it too much. Try and keep it special. And keep it for the harsh. It is the power of the Wind. Don’t be a hero, Jer. Don’t be a bad guy. Save it for the harsh.”

The sirens awoke Jerry from his trance. Outside, a funnel cloud had formed. The class was evacuating the room. The teacher and class left in such a hurry, they forgot to look and see Jerry standing in the classroom and staring out the window. Jerry walked over to the window, and unlatched it. It was time.

Set me free, Jer. Set us all free.

He jumped out of the window, and landed on the soft mossy grass below. Good thing that this class was on the first level.

Jerry stood out on the lawn, staring out at the funnel cloud. It was forming into a massive tornado. Jerry’s wristwatch beeped, and he glanced at it. 12:00 was the time. That was when the tornado struck. Jerry unhooked his watch from his wrist and left it at the side of the school.

Jerry looked up at the dark, clouded sky. This was the time. The Wind rustled through his hair, and a blank expression was on his hopeless face. He looked down, and then looked up at the tornado begin to spin. Light spurted from the bottom and top of the tornado.

“Keep it for the harsh…” he murmured.

And he started towards the tornado.

__________________
Go, then; there are other worlds than these.
-Jake, The Gunslinger

Chris Miller

It is an honor to be the first to comment on this piece. I thought it was superb. It keeps you thinkning.

A few opinionated suggestions:

Don't cap "Wind". The metaphor is already too strong, almost overworked, as it is.

I think Fishbar will agree that adverbs like "dully" and "suddenly" weaken your prose. Find another way or maybe just lose them.


Normally, cliche. But here you give the a cliche broader scope. I like that.

My favorite part.

Nice work JustinCarter.

__________________
the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

JustinCarter

Thank you. I'll take into consideration some of those things.

__________________
Go, then; there are other worlds than these.
-Jake, The Gunslinger

sammisan

I really liked it. Excellent job. Just one suggestion: toward the end one sentence sort of made me stumble.

This is odd wording and took away from the scene since I had to stop and interpret the grammar...perhaps looked up as the tornado began to spin or looked up at the tornado beginning to spin.

Otherwise I thought it was well polished and captivating. I agree that the time passage was well done. A very interesting thought. Fantastic!

__________________
~Sami
"Darkwing Duck. When there's trouble you call D.W. Darkwing Duck. Let's get dangerous!"

eggo

Hi Justin,

Held me captive. I like the way you wove a premonition into the real action. It was well done and seamless.

Excellent

Here I would find a simile, " ..it swayed , over and over, and it.."
Perhaps " ..it swayed, like natures metronome, as it put..."
or something of the like.
It seems to me at this point the wind shouldn't " rustle" his hair. The tornado impending it should " Whip his hair back" or " paste his hair against his head" a bit more violent adjective.

I know the story wasn't suppose to close, but I looked for clues of the outcome to draw some conclusion. Maybe I am being a bit obtuse

Other than what was mentioned before I thought it was enthralling.

JustinCarter

Thank you. It's great to receive these comments.

I'll take into account all of what you guys have said.

Thanks again.

__________________
Go, then; there are other worlds than these.
-Jake, The Gunslinger