Chasing the Wind

The wind had a voice. I was certain of this. All of us were told, through the whispers of our mothers before tucking us into bed, the influences of our teachers and masters, and through the writings of old literary dignitaries. Only I knew more than this, I knew in my heart, in every part of me, that the wind was a beautiful thing, and it had something to say to all of us. It wasn't one to demand eminence, but it had such an elegance that would show it's natural ascendancy over everything on the earth. The way it brought what it wished and carried away likewise; the way it whistled and sung and danced with all of us who were rooted by gravity. I was willing to chase it wherever it went. We were taught as early as primary school that our world was only able to exist because of the elements that so faithfully lasted through the times. Even when the animals died and the plants withered, when the people grew lost and depressed, and when countries and nations were torn apart, the ocean persevered, the plants lived, the sun shone, and the wind never died. The ouders realized this pattern and were able to create a revival on what was left. So, as long as there was air, I had a place here.

My favorite place to go was the bridge over Wachsenda River, near the Stadt. I would ride my bicycle down the southern road in Ruderplatz, where I grew up. I would sit on the bridge and wait until no one was looking, and I'd play my violine. I dedicated my songs to the wind, hoping one day it would indulge in whispering something unforgettable; something beautiful I'd carry with me, and tell my children, 'The wind is real,' never forget. While I waited to call Brantley Kefner, I was dangling my legs over the edge of the bridge all child-like, enjoying the peace of the moment, as the breeze swept down and flirted with the surface of Wachsenda's water. Brantley and I were going to be married, we had decided it was only a matter of time before we could take it to the governors and let it be done. Coincidentally enough, two weeks before he was going to surprise me with that vital question, he was drafted into the Heer for the Provence. He promised to marry me when he returned, so whenever I became doubtful, I'd pronounce the name 'Danielle Kefner of Ruderplatz, Provence Drie'. "Danielle Kefner has a lovely sound about it, don't you think?" I said. I wondered then if the governor's consortium would let me contact him. I knew he loved me just as well as any man should, he told me that all the time before he left.

Brantley Kefner would be the first to break my heart. Though, before he did, I loved him dearly. This is how it happened; he and I were going to apply for the Provence Drie, institution together. Even though he could no longer attend, I told him that I had enrolled and was going that season in tribute to him. He was glad for it.

"I'm learning so much in the military, it's strange, but also strengthening. It's …Like nothing I've ever seen before. Danielle, I never would've expected the world to be what it is—and… well, it snows a lot here in Provence Dertien, even more than in Agt." It was wonderful to hear his voice.

"Oh, Geliebte. Are you warm?"

"Warm enough, I suppose. Of course, it's the army, so they tell us 'You don't need warmth, you Schwächlinge' …that being the less profane version, at least." He chuckled in his hard tone. I told him how my life was, and my family. Time passed like every gale on the bridge, every topic we spoke of was like a note in the songs, where we moved on as quickly as we started, and in no time our session was over. I bid my love goodbye, and immediately began preparing for school, as a new zephyr of inspiration had been ignited in me. I vowed to keep in touch with Brantley, and not lose the love I had, as this new experience steadily changed and matured us. "Danielle Kefner…" I whispered to the wind.

I began to develop my individuality, and with the inspiring words of my professors, I decided to take my path as a writer, I also learned to better play the violine. I studied linguistics, as well as culture, and arts, as my peers and instructors said were best for my chosen career path. With all the teachings, I began to realize the world was much better off than it used to be. Every time the masters would say "you are individual", "You are independent", "You are unique", I felt more and more confident where I was. I made friends, who were all pushing me to be a writer; I was glad to have friends who supported my dreams. The teachers shared a passion for the elements, they knew the gracefulness of the wind, I was glad to have instructors who believed like I did. Turning in my assignments, my instructor talked with me, "Your writing is excellent; you really were destined to be a writer. You must love to learn and grow as a novelist. I believe even the wind is saying that it is the best path for you to take. You think for yourself, and you are independent; that is good of you. You are intelligent, you know what you are doing. let me offer you some advice; never take no for an answer, don't let anyone tell you that you're wrong, you don't have time for those offensive people." I smiled at her courtesy. One weekend, I was standing over Wachsenda River basking in the breeze. I hadn't been standing there long when one of my fellow students came riding her bike.

"Hallo, Danielle." She stopped.

"Good morning." I smiled.

"What are you up to?" Emilia came and sat on the railing of the bridge. "It's the wind isn't it?" She said before I answered. She closed her eyes, "It's always so breezy here, on this river. Don't you love the wind?"

"I do."

"Don't you feel like it talks to you sometimes? Has it ever felt like it's spoken to you?"

"I keep wanting to be a writer… I keep seeking after those things, the things that will help me get further in my career, and I feel like the wind and everyone around me wants me to, and I always find myself running back, trying to find it, it's so peaceful—I want to chase it down, and see if really talks to you. . . or is it just an inanimate object? You know?"

"I felt the exact same way! It's addicting. My mother used to tell me stories in that—"

"—The wind had a voice." I watched it spin down, taking the leaves off the trees, and helping them to fly. It was so satisfying. I wanted to tell Brantley about it when I talked with him that day.

"You know, I appreciate being able to go to a school that teaches and understands our individuality. You know? They never try to confine us to a box, they understand and recognize how everyone of us is different; they teach and give us, like, all the details of opportunities that we can take, and provide the recourses to go after whatever it is we choose, you know?" I had been saying to him.

"Danielle, our society is not what we have always thought it is." Was his response, this threw me off. I called him every month, but this time there was something so strange about him.

I told him I didn't understand.

"I mean, they are controlling all of us. Driving their agenda into us, making us just like everyone else."

"What? No! I am not like anyone else—I am unique."

"No, you're being manipulated—listen to me, I am learning, experiencing things, that I have never seen before, there used to be a place where we were free; and people all over the world fought and died for that freedom, and no one controlled them. Freedom's nothing like it is now."

"Brantley, that's kind of offensive. What has gotten into you? Why would you say that?"

"Look around you, how can you not see it? They are manipulating you, making you think that it is your individuality, but really, they are getting you to do exactly what everyone else is doing, and making you think that it's your own ideas, your own plans, your own dreams. They keep telling us here, in the Heer, that they're teaching us to save and protect. Do you know what they're really teaching us? They are teaching us to kill."

"No… You're wrong. I don't know what you are talking about, but you are wrong."

"Just think—How have you been talking to me, Elle?"

"I scheduled a session—just like I do every month."

"Yes, you applied to schedule a long-distance, calling session. The government has the technology to talk to anyone, form anywhere, at any time. You are standing in a Consortium Office! Did you know that they used to have devices that everyone could talk with anyone, at any time they wished. They have that technology, but they are keeping it from us!"

"Brantley, that's just conspiracy. I am afraid the army is having a terrible affect on you!"

"No—it's not! Why do you think I was drafted right before we were supposed to be married, huh? Was it just a coincidence? Have you talked to your brother? He's apart of the Drie Heer, is he not?"

"Well—"

"Yeah, what about the wind? It’s the only thing that can fly, and that's what makes it beautiful." He sounded like he was mocking it, which, at this point didn't surprise me. "They have the technology to take a person into the air!"

"I'm sorry… My session is over. I have to go. Goodbye." I hung up, panting.

My session wasn't over.

In class that week, I wondered what had gotten into Brantley. Was he mocking me? I wondered it we really were destined to be together. My teacher spoke with me again after class, "You will be very successful, Danielle. I'm sure you'll have a husband, who is tall and handsome. Two kids—a girl and a boy, I'm sure. You'll be a writer, and a violinist."

Brantley wasn't tall.

"I'm sure I will."

I was talking with some friends on the bridge—we shared so many similarities, I was glad to have friends who understood my passion. Someone came running up to us suddenly, it was frightening, it made my heart race. I realized as he approached, that it was Brantley! Had he run away?

"Danielle, look at this!" He held up a small pendant, shaped like a heart which hung on a chain. "I found this—It's called a necklace, but they don't let you have these—which is why you've never seen it. Understand me--They are telling us 'color outside the lines, be different'. But can't you see? No one is coloring inside the lines! It's not uniqueness at all anymore! It's just messy." He tried putting the strange chain inside my hands.

"No—Brantley…" I wouldn't—couldn't take it.

"They are dictating your future!" I dropped the necklace on the ground. As it hit the ground I felt an unforgettable pain in my heart, as it broke into pieces. I started to back away, leaving the man I once loved with his delusions. As I left, he called after me, "All they are doing is breeding you, teaching you, to do nothing other than forever chase the wind,

you are forever chasing the wind."