The Tenth Night: Above The Clouds And Through The Trees
The wind rushes through my hair and over my weightless body. It breathes a cool life into me while I marvel at the beauty below. Tops of fluffy white clouds drift underneath as a feeling of pure joy grips my soul. I am free. Now I drop.
Shades of blue and purple mix with orange beams of sunlight to create a magnificent glow on the Earth below. I can see hilltops looming high over clear streams and casting mighty shadows over round lakes. Golden fields of wheat rise and fall with the passing wind, and I feel as if I’m a part of it all. My body is the wind; tickling the leaves of the many trees, brushing against the fur of a wild rabbit, and pushing tiny ripples of water together to form gentle waves. All is calm. All is as it should be.
Then I hear the faint voice of a child crying out somewhere in the lush green forest. I’m carried down along the forest floor—pushing through tree limbs and blowing wood debris all over. I pass through thick brush and slip into the spaces between impenetrable foliage. Finally I make it to the child; a small child of seven or so.
She is crying—near hysterics as she is lost in the unforgiving wilderness; alone, helpless, lost, the poor girl won’t last long out here once the sun settles behind the nearby mountains. I fly high above the trees in one great whoosh. There is a cabin nestled in a minute clearing about half a mile in the opposite direction she’s walking.
I sink back down through the trees with an intense gust. I push my invisible hands against her body in an attempt to turn her around. She fights me. I’m forced to push harder and harder, nearly knocking her to the ground. In a loud cry she finally turns and faces the right direction. I push harder—crashing heavy gust of energy into her little legs until she starts walking. I guide her through the forest, knocking aside any obstacles I can.
An hour has gone by and the sun is sinking faster than a waterlogged life raft at sea. Her panic is now at an all-time high, but there is hope. Another voice cries out in the near distance. This one of a woman. It’s hard to hear through my constant pushing, so I stop.
The name echoes through the trees and makes it to the child’s ears. She perks up and her heart beat stops for a split-second. She takes off running toward the voice. I guide her with a gentle hand until she makes it to the clearing where her worried mother is dropped down to both knees and arms are stretched wide. The child jumps into the waiting embrace. They both cry in joy and relief.
I rush through the space between their arms—blowing their hair up in my wake—and return to my position above the clouds. Such a beautiful world this is. Each moment so vital and precious. I wish to travel like this forever, but I know this cannot last. Such is life, only the individual moments truly matter.
If you liked this you should check out the rest of the series!