Wind Spirit: Little Sister

The wind carried him over the land, his thoughts rising and falling with the drafts. He sped where the wind sped, through the trees, between the houses, over the roads. He twisted in the eddies and spun in the currents. There was freedom here; Father Wind carried him with strong arms. He was a wind spirit. His essence darted between the flowers, carrying the pollen. His essence herded the waves, lapping at the shores. His essence was playful, curious, but ancient.

The wind spirit began to slow. Father Wind brought him to a hovering pause high above the houses that blanketed the landscape below. The sun was creating a delightful updraft that tickled at the spirit as he waited for Father Wind to whisper a task for him to perform. The updraft subsided and Father Wind drew the wind spirit closer to the ground, slowly descending until he floated over the back yard of a single storey brick house.

There was a swing set and a small kangaroo shaped see-saw sitting in the yard. A toy or two had been left on the ground and a lawn mower sat patiently in the corner. The spirit felt a tickle spark through him, his essence glowing with joy. He darted over to the toys and inspected them, tossing them around a little. He tried to wrestle with the kangaroo see-saw but found it too static and inanimate.

Father Wind began whispering to the spirit. The deep, endless whisper of his voice always filled the spirit with awe and dread. Such a mighty presence and yet so gentle. He had seen his father gently caress the back of the wonderer and he had seen his father savage entire landscapes and flatten entire forests. Both of those aspects were present in his voice, but he felt safe there in Father Wind's embrace.

The whispering lead the spirit to the back door of the house. The glass slider was tinted and the spirit found it difficult to see through to the room inside. Father Wind gave a gentle push and the spirit began to slip through the space around the door. Inside, outside, there was no difference to the wind, where did the air indoors stop and the air outdoors start?

The air inside was warm but still, the wind, having little effect on the enclosed space, was unable to flow and refresh the air inside. The spirit began to slow, he could feel the emotions that lingered in the air like perfumes. Some where tart and sharp, others were soft and sweet. Without Father Wind to move him, the wind spirit moved as though swimming, the warm air around him was amniotic in its warmth and texture.

A little boy sat in the middle of the carpeted floor. He was gazing intently at the colourful blocks he held in his hands. All of a sudden he brought them together with a forceful clack and began laughing. His laughter rippled through the air and tingled the wind spirit to the core. The wind spirit began to giggle, intoxicated by the young boy's uninhibited peels of laughter.

Hello little prince the wind spirit whispered to the small boy.

Who are you? wondered the young boy. The spirit warmed at the child's curious forthrightness. Children always responded in kind, adults were too quick with words. Children just went with the flow, their minds far outstripping their mouths for expression. Even then, this boy looked too young to be talking much, if at all.

I am a wind spirit. Replied the spirit. What are you playing little prince?

These blocks make a funny noise when I hit them.

Do it again. Encouraged the spirit. The boy brought two of the blocks, a yellow one and a purple one, together with a loud clack. Again laughter filled the room and rippled through the wind spirit.

I'm going to have a little sister. Said the boy confidently.

The wind spirit shivered with delight. He could feel the expectancy and joy in the boy's heart over the idea of having a little sister. The spirit moved closer to the boy and enveloped him. The boy giggled but otherwise let it go.

The spirit peered deep into the boy's heart, letting the wonderland of the child's soul draw him in. He saw a lush green rain-forest, an ancient and spectacular place. The wind spirit entered the image and revelled in the scene's natural glory. He flitted from flower to leaf, leaf to rock. There was a gorgeously clear stream running through the middle of the scene. The rocks had been worn smooth and seemed to beg the spirit to jump from one to the other.

The spirit let the breeze catch him, bouncing him down the flow of the stream, the sound of the rock pools pouring into each other soothing him. He came to a larger pool, one where the water had time to sit and be still before continuing. On the edge of the pool, on a wide, smooth rock, there lay a King. The King was asleep, his countenance so peaceful that the spirit wanted to slumber as well.

The spirit felt the image pull away from him. There was a moment of sadness before he returned to the room with the child. A woman had entered the room and he could tell from the boy's reaction that it was his mother. She was a beautiful young woman and looked as though she had only just entered adulthood. The boy smiled at her and began to coo, going back to his blocks.

All of a sudden, the boy looked up at his mother. He looked worried, as if something had gone wrong. A moment later the woman's expression cramped as she bent at the waist. She was obviously feeling quite major discomfort in her abdomen. The boy sat and watched as his mother walked to the couch and sat down heavily.

“Hey sweetie.” she said lovingly but through semi-gritted teeth.

Is mummy okay? Asked the child.

The spirit hovered for a moment, taking in the auras of the room. The little boy's aura was a pale pink as it stretched out towards his mother. Even though the boy sat in his place and continued playing with his blocks, his aura was stretching out to her. The spirit could see the boy's little soul trying to hug away his mummy's hurt. It was at once both precious and sad.

The woman's aura was flickering. From the rich, deep, red that swam out to encircle her son, it would flicker to a harsh grey. The spirit began to shield itself as it saw the grey come dangerously close to black.

There was a third aura. This aura was tiny, barely present but immeasurably deep. At first the spirit didn't notice its presence because of where it was. It was surrounded by the mother's aura. The Aura was coming from the woman's stomach. Her womb. There was a baby, ever so young, not even showing in the woman's figure, bathed in a glorious white aura. The little prince was right, there was a little sister on the way.

The woman arched her back and her aura flashed grey again. The spirit watched in horror as the aura inside of her started flashing black.

The wind spirit kept his focus on the little aura inside the mother as it began to fade. Something wasn't right. He wanted to protect the little prince. The spirit swam over to the young boy, wrapping the small child in the spirit's own aura. The boy sighed, then yawned, then began to curl up in a drowsy little ball. He was still awake, but he was only barely aware of the hurried phone calls his mother was making.

The child was almost asleep when, as his mother lay weeping in pain on the couch, his next door neighbours came rushing in to help her. The spirit watched an older man, bathed in a deep and calm violet aura, swept up the young boy in his arms, patting him gently on the back to keep him calm. An older woman bent down to speak with the boy's mother, her face concerned but resolute.

Then everybody left.

The spirit tried to follow the young boy, but the boy was asleep now, and the spirit couldn't follow the young prince's thoughts. He tried to follow the woman, but her flashes of pain kept pushing him back.

The spirit moved to the glass doors to the back yard and slipped back through the gap. Father Wind picked him up immediately, throwing him high into the clouds, spinning him, disorientating him. The wind spirit let Father Wind take him over places he had never been before, or could not remember.

Things grew dark and the Fire Father slumbered before the wind spirit found himself tumbling back to the brick house with the glass sliding doors.

The spirit slid through the gap above the door and again swam into the room. The room was empty save for the blocks that had been left there by the little prince. There was a disturbance up the hallway as people came in through the front door. The little prince came in first, still being carried by the old man. His face was washed out and blank, his mind wondering off to another place. His aura moved sluggishly but remained the pale pink the spirit had seen before.

The older woman guided the boys mother in through the hallway and onto the couch, gently helping her sit down. The mother had been crying, streaks of hastily applied make-up painted a sorry picture on her young face. The spirit looked deeply into the ruddy ash of the woman's aura. It was alone, the tiny life inside her was no longer there. All that remained was a dull ember of what once was.

Clack!

The little prince began to chuckle as he brought the two blocks together. The spirit took his focus off the woman and went back to the small child. His pale pink aura was back to its original strength, brightening and shimmering with the goings on of the individual blocks that he played with. Each clack brought a ripple through him, followed by the same shrill peels of laughter.

There was something different in him though. The wind spirit drew in closer, peering further into the boy. He saw it, the little white aura that had once belonged in the mother's womb now found it's home in the little boy's heart.

Little sister. Thought the boy.