When the Wind Whispers Back

Chapter 1

Red, yellow, and orange leaves littered the path we walked along. The loud crunch, crunch, crunch of leaves under our feet acted as the tempo to our progression. Soft sobs and sniffles, the sad melody.  Gripping the coffin with one hand and my mothers dress with the other, I stared straight ahead at the pile of recently dug dirt that was to be our destination, her last destination.

The cold air was in stark contrast with the sun’s warm golden light that usually accompanied mid-fall. This warmth was an illusion that deceived outside observers looking in on the scene. Although, I could feel the autumn sun on my face and I could see its light blanketing all it touched in a warm glow, the air held a frigid edge that the sun could not penetrate. The chill came as much from the cold temperature as it did from the sorrow radiating out from our congregation. Many member of the group clutched the black lifeless clothes we all wore, closely to their chests in an attempt to combat the cold.

The air was still, not even a puff of wind to rustle the leaves on the ground. Sara had loved the wind. She told me many times how feeling it on her skin and face could make her smile. It almost seemed as though the wind was mourning her loss as much as we were, refusing to blow without her here to feel it. Sara was rare and extraordinary and the world had loved her for it.

In what felt like both forever and no time at all, we arrived at the pile of dirt. Next to the pile sat a deep, rectangular pit. Sara’s dad and the other men carrying her and her coffin, gently laid her down next to the it. I stayed right there, acting as her own personal guard. I refused to move my hand, even as they prepared to lower her into the ground. Rows of white fold up chairs had been placed in front of the pit and the people who had followed us, began to sit in them.

“Nate sweetie, its time to sit down.” my mother whispered in my ear.

I vaguely remember her attempt to tug me from the coffin, but I knew where my place was. I looked down to where my left hand was still clenching the handle of the child-sized coffin. The skin on my knuckles was white and the muscles in my hands were aching from gripping so hard, for so long. Tied around my wrist was the yellow ribbon Sara used to hold her curls back from her face. I loved her hair because it was the color of chocolate. She loved it because her bouncy curls added at least inch to her tiny frame.

I couldn’t remember a day that she had not worn that yellow ribbon. I picked it up from the street the day the car hit her. Before the accident, it had been clean, but now small patches were marred with dirt and dried blood. I didn’t care. Now I would wear it everyday.

An old man wearing odd robes that reached his feet and holding an old book, rose from crowd and came to the coffin. Gently, he opened the lid to reveal Sara’s small body. Except for being pale, she looked like she could be sleeping. Oh how I wished she were! The man looked down at me expectantly and pointed to the crowd, indicating that I should join them. Without a word, I turned away from him and focused back on Sara. After a few moments, I heard him sigh, accepting that I was staying put. His clothes rustled as he turned to face the crowd and began to speak. I can’t tell you how long he spoke or what he said, but the longer he spoke, the more the crowd cried.

I reached into my pants pocket and withdrew a small toy soldier. It was the last thing my father gave me before he died and it was the thing I loved the most. He told me that this little soldier would look out for me and keep me safe. Sara and I would spend hours almost every day playing “army man”. She never like the game but played it because it was my favorite. That’s what we were doing when she died. She picked up my soldier from the ground and said “Nate, can I be the good guys this time? You always get to be the good guys!”. I grabbed the toy from her hands and it and ran to the park across the street. Sara followed. I guess my dad was right about the soldier protecting me because the car missed me but swerved right into her.

I loved that soldier but I would have traded a million toy soldiers to have my Sara back. It seemed only fair that Sara keep something of mine that I loved since I got to keep her ribbon. I gently reached into the coffin and placed the solider in Sara’s hand “Wherever you are, He will keep you safe.” I told her.

The man must have finished speaking because my mother came up behind me and whispered in my ear “Sweetie, its time to go.”

Slowly I turned my head to her. All my movements felt slow and heavy, like i was moving through water. It was my fault she was dead and I couldn’t let her go. Gently my mother’s hand covered mine, attempting to remove me from what was left of my friend.

“It’s time to let go.” my mother tried again.

“No”I said as tears began to leak from my eyes. Until this point I had been unable to cry, shock and numbness had were all I could feel. Now that it was time to leave her here, panic overtook me and my heart began to race. “Don’t make me go.” I gripped the coffin tighter, and with my other hand began swatting at my mother. An arm snaked around my waist, pulling at my body, trying to take me away from Sara. At the same moment someone else began prying my hand off of the coffin. I fought and clawed at the arm around my waist as my feet left the ground. I kicked the air and violently jerked my body side to side, trying to dislodge the hold that was making me leave my Sara.

“Don’t take her from me! I want to go with her!” I screamed over and over until my voice was a hoarse and raw. But the arms continued to pull and pry. Breathing became difficult and I couldn’t get air in my lungs. Black clouded my vision, starting at the edges and moving inward, until everything else was choked out. Right as I lost consciousness and my hold on the coffin was broken, I could have sworn I saw a child with a head of brown curls blowing in the non-existent wind, far off in the distance.

#fiction

#fantasy

#novel