The opening of a book I started 3 years ago. Would you want to read that? Preface The wind whispered her name. It always did. She gaped at the blue-black sky hanging low over the yellow cornfield. The blazing hot air became cottony soft, and the lazy song of the crickets played like a lullaby. The giant, dark clouds pushed against each other, crowding the horizon. Should she be scared? Go inside? Hurricanes destroyed everything in their paths. At least that’s what Mommy had told her. But a fathomless fascination kept the five-year old sitting on the rock behind the house. A sharp breeze lifted the skirt of her white summer-dress, and she giggled. She tucked the seam under her thighs to make it stay put as the warm wind played around her. Easily distracted, she started to count the oh-so-many tiny flowers dotting her dress, tapping one at a time with her small finger. “One, two, three, four, seven, thirteen, nine…” “There are many blossoms there on your dress.” Startled, she lifted her head to the soft voice. A man with wild hair the color of an owl’s coat sat next to her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He must be good at playing hide and seek, if she hadn’t noticed him approaching. Her mother always told her not to talk to strangers. But the smile on this man’s face made her think the rule didn’t apply now. He was like Uncle Toby, not a stranger. Someone, who would break a fall and get hurt rather than allow anything to hurt her. She knew it by the warm feeling in her chest. “Yes, there are many blossoms. Sixty billion. And four.” She held up three fingers of her left hand. The man’s smile deepened. He ruffled her hair. “You know your math, don’t you, Aywen?” She snickered at the man’s mistake but enjoyed his hand on her head. “That is not my name, silly.” “Oh, is it not?” He looked surprised, but not the ugly way her mom did when she found the goldfish she’d put in the water dispenser last week. He looked more like grandpa when he listened to one of her many funny stories. She shook her head wildly. “No-oh.” The man leaned closer, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Shall I tell you a secret?” Happily clapping her hands, she nodded. She loved secrets. “It was your name not long ago.” Her mouth dropped open. How could that be? When she named her ragdoll Pedro, she knew it was permanent. A name was nothing that should be changed. Unless it was something like Little Miss Sunshine, which Uncle Toby called her sometimes when she gave him a bear hug. But Aywen was a beautiful name. And she’d heard it before. “Wanna know a secret, too?” she whispered back to the mysterious man. “M-hm.” “The wind talks to me. And it always says that name.” She was happy the man didn’t laugh at her like her family did when she told them about it. No. He took her serious. But she couldn’t tell if he liked her secret or not. The sad look in his eyes made her think maybe not. He gazed an unbearably long time at the horizon, at least five or seven seconds, before he angled his head and looked at her again. “It’s because he misses you, Aywen.” She sucked in a breath, her mouth forming an O. “The wind knows me?” “He does. And you knew him, too. Once. In a different place than this.” He swept his arm across the acres before them. “If you like, I can tell you about the wind. And the clouds. And about the many people living in the clouds.” “I do! I do!” she cheered. She loved stories even more than secrets. “Then I shall come back and tell you a bit every day, for it is a very long story.” He drawled the word long in such a funny way it made her laugh. “But you must promise never to tell anyone about me. Can you do that?” As solemnly as a kindergartener could, she held up her hand, pressing the other palm to her heart. “I do.” “Good girl.” He smiled again, and the warmth coming from it filled her little body with birthday-happiness. “I want you to call me next time you are alone, like now. Then I will start my story.” “But how can I call you?” She was sure Mommy said she mustn’t play with the telephone when nobody was home. “When you want me to come, you only have to say my name.” “And what is your name?” The tall man placed his big hand on her cheek. He blinked once, and the fantastic sky reflected in his eyes. “Michael.”
Posted on: Sun, 18 Jan 2015 18:06:38 +0000
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