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Rated: E · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #1731514
We all can hear the wind, and feel the wind, but we might not now where it goes.
              On a cold night that would freeze, and constrict pipes, and leave even the most somber baby yearning for their mother's warmth. A boy stood in the chilling cold with a gaze that looked as if his eye's were searching the expansive universe. It was as though the boy was in a trance. He didn't move, didn't budge, and it almost seemed he wasn't breathing. Snow flakes were falling downward onto his pale complextion sorrounding him like it was protecting him from the cold. The wind whispered to the boy. His eyes shifted, and like a cheetah hunting it's prey he sprung, leaping forth, and sprinting to a snowy cornfeild. He then came to an adrupt stop, and again stared at the whiteness that sorround him.
            The wind blew harder this time, and the trees hissed as though they were mocking the boy. This time the boy's pale face showed his true emotions. Hatred seeped from his dark brown eyes, and his lips quivered in disgust. This wind once more blew, and shoved it's chilling tendrils up the boys nose. The boy ran  into the dark treeline of a small forest, and their the plants taunted him.
"Find me, find me." the wind dared the boy.
            The boy shook his head, and let out a sigh of resentment. He balled his hand into a fist and squeezed. His already cherry red cheeks turned into a scarlet red.
"Find me, find me." The cold bitter wind echoed into the very being of his soul.
At last the boy spoke. "I can not find you because you are neither here, nor there, but everywhere."
              The wind picked up, and blew like a tug boat gaining speed. It's hissing sounded like a snake of pits being tortured, and dismembered. The wind blowing so hard knocking the boy from his feet to his back. He strugggled tryed gaining ground, but all he felt was cold snow melting around his finger tips. The boy pushed on finnally getting to his knee's, but like lightning the wind again knocked him back. The boy was weak his leg's thick as mud not moving, and his body being prickled, but comforted by the soft cold snow flakes falling all around his unmoving body. The wind calmed down to it no longer hissed, and moaned with anger. It's breeze was soft, and relaxing to the ears now. The boy still layed unmoving,  he opened his eyes once more, before having his eternal rest. The wind howled, crying, mourning for the trickery, and anger he displayed. That the boys life ending was it's own doing.
          After that night it was a cold winter the potatoes didnt grow, and most of the farmhouses and village burnt down that summer. The boy was never found lost to the effects of nature and time. His village was said to be cursed after that, and everynight of the boys death you can still hear the eerie bone chilling whisper of the unseen wind.
© Copyright 2010 Gysaneuh Kias (kamerion at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1731514-Chasing-The-Unseen