The Spite of the Wind vol.3
Daily entry 026 / fiction
I saw my face and it split into a wide, maniacal grin.
Then the ground melted away beneath my feet and I fell away from the world.
The wind took me in its arms like a loving mother, cradling my head gently in the crook of its elbow. It spoke softly and sweetly, honey dripping from every inflection in its voice.
“You are no longer afraid,” said the wind. “I took your fear from you. I drew it like a leech draws blood.”
I wanted to speak to my captor then, to tell it that life was nothing without fear, and that fear was nothing without life. But the wind clamped my mouth shut with its sickly-soft fingers, caressing my cheek.
“Fear is a parasite,” it spoke, though I knew not from where. The voice echoed all about me, bouncing off the inside of my skull, settling gently on my skin. “Without fear you would not have neared the ledge. You are fascinated by fear. You are drawn to it like a fly to sugar.”
Then the world went black. I could still feel the wind around me, draped over my shoulders like a shawl, holding me in its soft, warm grip.
I knew then that it would never let me go.
Thank you so much for reading.
I’m Tom Curren, and this is Chapter X — an online journal in which I post daily fictions, snippets of stories and worldly observations.
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