Wind, Sky, & Stone — A Fable: Part Three

Day Eleven of Thirty Days of Writing

Artwork by Khalil Gibran

Wind swept through the valley and lounged in the lower atmosphere, beside herself with pleasure. She twirled about the air in little writhing spirals. Dust particles sparked around her invisible waist, wrapping the sky dancer in a diamond girdle. Wind then threw herself at a wall of clouds, and wrote her Aeolian name in cumulous letters.

Once full of the atmosphere’s soft menagerie, she dove headfirst into the solid earth. Before the precise moment of contact she yanked hard on the throttle like a fearless pilot, sifting the sands with her whiplash. She evened out and descended upon a long strand of rushing water. There she sang and blew until billows and bubbles frothed forth, gurgling a chorus in response to her verse. She caught a frog napping on a lily pad and sent him diving down, deep into the busy stream.

The night was silent except for her pirouettes which threw an eerie whistle across the land, like when her body passes through the lips of a long blade of split grass residing in a ghoulish marsh. The kind of low blowing bellow that twists into an aching moan and then hurries into a frenzied howl and finally plateaus at a piercing scream. What was she doing again? Where had that stone gone?

“Oh right, it fell from whence it came”

“Or whence we carried it”


“Plucked it, rather, and flung it nearer the stars it might never be”

“That’s right, I did get a little carried away”

“Though you shouldn’t have teased it like that”

“It certainly was caught up with that celestial body”

“All in good fun, I sounded convincing as a faraway ball of fire and gas, did I not?”

“We liberated it, in fact, saved it a lifetime of hurt, as if a star would love a stone”

“I do wonder though, what drew me to that rock?”

“More like what cast you upon that edge?”

“What forced you to stoop to such a low altitude?”

“You mean you?”

“I mean us”

“Could it be slumbering Sky, is he ignoring me?”

“He is sleeping”

“Oh? And where is that odious orb, that white eye of the night?”

“Moon is new and shielded from our sight”

“Hidden and lurking no doubt”

“Dust away these murky clouds so we may spy the heavens”

Swiftly the wind rushed up and divided and scattered the comfy cushion clouds, tearing them asunder until their downy precipitation scattered and dissipated to a misty nothing. The heavens beamed black as a hole. Only the prickly points of stars stood illuminated, sketching ancient figures into forms.

“They fancy themselves artists”


“Show offs”

“No sign of the bulbous eyeball of the sky”

Of Sky!?”

“Could he be…?”

“Sisters, silence your suspicions, what of Sky and his intentions? Haven’t we his love?”

“You always were the naïve one”

“Sky cannot be trusted”

“The only solution is to remove temptation”

“You see how he forced our hands, to bend us to the level of land dwellers, to consort with the very stone and soil and earth we mold with our own breath! And how are we to be assuaged?”

“I thought the little rock was touching”

“What did he say of souls?”

“That to cohabitate a single body, multiple souls must — ”

“Sisters! Please, there is only a single solution. We must gather the gales, the gusts, we must breed an assembly to stifle our beloved Sky’s diversion”


“All right”

“If we must”

Her playful mood all but evaporated, Wind drifted into a foul humor and set her mind on despicable deeds. She gathered her sisters spread all across the land: Icy chills hailed from the North, seafaring breezes blew in from the west, squalid squalls swung in from the East, and tempestuous thunder rose from the south. A storm began to brew, the likes of which the valley had never seen.