Ayra stood on top of the mountain, gazing into the valley below. A cold gust of wind feathered her hair and left cold shivers on her arm, but she did not mind. She barely felt the cold it left on her. Her grandmother had always said that she was special. Nature’s friend, she had called her. Wind’s sister. As if the breeze itself was a person, another relative she could talk to and hide with when needed.
She smiled to herself as another gentle caress touched her already cold skin. She felt warm amidst it all, not begrudging the icy air for doing what it did best. For doing the only thing it knew.
Her grandma had been right. She was special, maybe, if not in the same sense all those adventure novels spoke off. She could not breath fire or wish impossible things into being or fly, even. But she did feel that affinity with the air around her, and she was beginning to think that the wind could feel it too. Wind’s sister. Such a strange thing to be, she thought.
Slowly, she spread out her arms, wishing for another gust to sweep over her skin. The breeze came almost instantly, gently swirling around her arms and soon encasing her entire body in a gentle embrace. Even though it was freezing up here, so far away from another person and her family, she was warm. This was where she belonged, in the embrace of her sister.
The breeze had accepted her. She could tell by how it came willingly when she asked silently. Ayra took a deep breath in, soaking up the icy chill to warm her from the inside. It lit her throat on fire, but she did not mind. She felt stronger for it, and knew that from this moment forth her grandma’s words were finally true.
She was Wind’s sister.
All of my 10-Minute stories are improvised, unplanned, and unedited apart from spelling and grammar mistakes. The idea is to kick-start the dreaded Monday with a short, creative exercise without thinking about it, and simply writing for the sake of writing.
For all other 10-Minute shorts, take a look here.