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alvearis · 3 years

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Lost

When I first found myself awake, I could almost believe that it had all been a dream. That she was still laying in the bed beside me. I scrunched my eyes closed and could almost smell the comforting scent of her, of vanilla and her favorite perfume. But when I reached towards her, the space where she had always been was empty. The shade of her presence shattered like the glass that had fallen from my hand the night before.

The tears started falling before I could think, and I rolled over to bury my face in her pillow. The scent was stronger here. Sobs wracked my body as I remembered her smile, her laugh, how we would talk as she drank her morning coffee and I ate what passed for breakfast. Memories of her danced through my mind, laced with the sorrow of her absence.

After an eternity, I pulled away from her pillow. It had suddenly occurred to me that I might ruin it. Right now, it smelled like her. I didn’t want it to smell like me instead. The tears had slowed by now, anyway. I knew that I should at least try to get out of bed. A shower was beyond me, and I couldn’t bring myself to care about the knots that my hair must be in, but I could at least try to eat. She would have wanted me to do that, at least. After all, she was the only reason I even ate breakfast in the first place.

I could smell it as soon as I opened the door, the scent that been there every morning since we moved in together six years ago. My vision was blurry as I stumbled towards the kitchen, but I still caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror as I passed. I hadn’t changed before bed, and I still wore the same dress as the day before. She had always said that loved this dress on me, which is why I had put in on after making dinner. I wanted to look nice for our anniversary.

My thoughts shied away from the thought, but the tears were already falling again. I hurried on my way and almost stepped in the broken glass, stopping only as I noticed my foot hovering inches over it. I fell backwards before I could catch myself and could do no more than curl up on the ground. The aroma of coffee permeated the air here, brewed strongly as she always set it to. After a dazed moment, the chime of the coffee maker rang out.

I didn’t drink coffee. I never had, but it was ready.

#writing #prompt based #reddit prompt #The coffee is ready. I just don't know what it's ready for...#still don't know what i'm doing

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alvearis · 4 years

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The Night Wind

Throughout childhood, we were constantly reminded of the dangers of the world and how to avoid them. Don’t go out under a full moon, for that’s when the wolves came out. When entering a room, knock three times to expel spirits. Mirrors were to be treated with the utmost care to avoid the years of bad luck if one breaks. There were many rules to be learned, some more serious than others. But there was one that should never, under any circumstances, be broken. If you hear the wind at night, lock your windows and don’t make a sound. Demons rode the night winds and the only protection was absolute silence.

I had lived for twenty-five years before I heard the wind at night. My daughter was only four. The windows were already locked, as they were every night, and I was just tucking Olivia into bed when I noticed the wind chimes. The noise had been soft at first, but it quickly grew louder and louder. A lifetime of hearing the warning made my voice die instantly. I couldn’t silence Olivia in time.

“Mamma!” she said excitedly as I reached to put a hand over her mouth. “The wind chi-” My hand and the frantic shaking of my head quieted her, but the wind had already been upon us at her outburst.

The windows started rattling, straining against the locks that held them closed. When the windows refused to open, the wind moved to the doors. As I ran to the basement with Olivia in my arms, I could see the doorknobs rattling. The whole house seemed to be shaking as I ran down the stairs. We sat in the corner furthest from the stairs while I did my best to keep her calm and silent. The wind hadn’t stopped, though, and I heard a window break somewhere above us. The wind had gotten in.

Olivia was shaking violently in my arms; she knew the wind was coming for her just as well as I did. With all the commotion from the wind, stuff started falling off the shelves around us. Jars of preserved food hit the floor and shattered. A terrified shriek pierced the air as one of the jars splattered her with its contents. The sound only lasted a second, but the wind reacted immediately.

Before I knew what was happening, the wind was swirling around us. The sound of it filled my ears and I couldn’t open my eyes against the pressure. I hugged Olivia close to me in an attempt to protect her, but as the wind raged I felt her disappear from my grasp. It was as though she had dissolved into the wind itself. It took everything in me to not call out for her.

The moment Olivia left my arms, the wind raced back up the stairs. In its absence, I was at last able to open my eyes. I could feel tears filling them as I scrambled to my feet to chase after it. I sprinted up the stairs, no longer concerned with being silent. I just wanted my daughter back.

The house was a disaster. The dishes that had been drying by the sink were shattered on the ground with the window above the sink also broken. The wind chimes were silent. The wind was gone.

I started screaming Olivia’s name, searching through the entire house for her, but she wasn’t there. I ran outside. Up the street one way then the other, all the while screaming for my daughter. She couldn’t be gone. She just couldn’t. The people in the nearby houses started to emerge, no doubt summoned by my frantic cries. My neighbor, Bethany, ran over and pulled me into a hug, stopping my pacing. No one asked what had happened. No one needed to.

“Come inside,” Bethany said in a voice that in any other situation would be soothing. “You can stay at my house if you need to. John’s already calling Roy.” I followed her numbly into her house, where she sat me down on the couch. After a while, John came into the room shaking his head.

“Roy’s not picking up. I’m going to go look for him.” He grabbed his keys and ran out the door. An hour later, he returned alone and explained how he had found my husband’s empty car parked on the side of the road with the windows shattered. I had lost my entire family in a single night.

The next four months I lived my life as though through a fog. The first week was full of news of more people taken, more families torn apart. At some point I found myself living back in my house, though I couldn’t remember returning. I avoided looking in Olivia’s room. I could hardly enter my own. The memories of my family filled my empty moments, which were often. It wasn’t until the fifth month after the wind that I started coming back to myself, but I wasn’t the same person as before.

I started questioning the rules and warnings. I started asking about the wind. Where did it come from? What happened to the people that it stole? While most people didn’t want to even so much as think about the subject, there were a few that would talk with me. No one had any answers, though. I tried searching online and in books, but there were no answers there either.

At last I came to the conclusion that there was only one option left to me, and so I started my preparations. The next wind came only a year after it had taken my family from me. This time, I was ready for it. I put on my good hiking boots, grabbed my bow and quiver, strapped my knives to my belt, and slung my backpack of supplies over my shoulder. I didn’t know what the wind did with its victims. I didn’t know if I would ever see my husband and daughter again. Whatever happened, though, I knew that I would get my answers.

I opened my front door wide, and screamed.

#writing #short story #not sure what I'm doing yet #first post #not sure if anyone will even see this

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