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Connor and the Cloud

by Isla Wilde 5 months ago in Fantasy

A Tale From the Cloud Realm

Connor pushed through the tangled sea-grass, breathing hard, and stood facing the waves. A fallen tree lay beside him on the beach, its limbs bleached and broken. He climbed its massive trunk and pulled off his hat, wanting to feel the full punch of the wind.

Clouds animated the horizon from edge to edge, traveling in a slow migration across the sky. There was a softness about them tonight, and as he followed each subtle movement, searching every shape and shadow, he felt that the clouds were watching him, too.

Suddenly, one of the clouds broke away from the others and began to flow in his direction. Roiling into the fierce shape of a grizzly bear’s head, chest, and forelegs, it bounded with alarming speed across the sky. Then the cloud transformed again, making a river of white mist that dropped like a waterfall to the sea. The mist changed course when it touched the waves, flowing just above the whitecaps, all the way to the shore. Once it touched the sand, it poured downward, like water filling a vase, condensing into the shape of a man about the age his grandfather would have been.

The man placed his hands in the pockets of his mist coat and looked at Connor. There was music in his eyes and a quiet wind behind them. He walked to the fallen tree and sat on one of its thick branches. Connor noticed that the man's coat and hair were still the same soft white as the clouds that floated above the ocean; lighter even than the silver strands in Connor’s hair, and brighter than the frosted wings of the seabirds who called out to them from beyond the waves.

The two waited quietly for some time. The man ran his fingers along the smooth surface of the ancient tree, as though remembering an old friend. Finally, the man spoke.

“I felt you, from up there in the sky,“ he said, nodding toward the horizon.

“And what did you feel?” Connor said.

“That perhaps you could use the company of an old friend.”

"I used to think I needed someone,” Connor said, his voice almost a whisper. “But then I learned, just this morning, that there is no one in this world who needs me."

The man breathed out slowly, the sound of a faraway storm through an open window.

“Come, sit,” the man said. “We will watch the clouds together, you and I."

Connor lowered himself to the sand, leaned against the tree, and covered his face with his hands. The wind hummed through the seagrass and whispered through the brittle limbs of the fallen tree. Tears seeped between Connor’s fingers. They drenched his hands and dripped down his wrists.

He felt the man move next to him on the sand and gently wrap his mist coat around Connor's shoulders. Soon Connor felt, but could not quite see, a grey haze flowing from himself to the man's heart space. He glanced at the man, whose expression had become as pinched and pained as Connor’s own.

As the man took on the weight of sorrow that flowed from Connor, he became the grey-blue color of a raincloud in spring. He breathed a sound that might have been thunder, or the protective rumblings of a grizzly bear.

A beam of light shone from between the clouds, illuminating the two, and at the same time easing Connor’s pain, in the way the sun soothes a wound that has been covered for too long. All the while, the sorrowful haze that had flowed from Connor's spirit to the old man now drifted up to the sky, where the clouds solemnly gathered it to themselves.

The man's face lightened. He lifted his hand and blew across his open palm, sending his breath upward. The clouds began to move in silver-edged shapes that brought to Connor’s mind childhood play and light. Wyndwhirls thrummed in horn-like sounds, filling the air with their lovely sky music. Puffy dolphins darted among them in the sapphire blue of Sky Sea, and beyond, white horses with feathery mist wings and streaming tail fins spiraled the peak of a mist mountain. The sky horses shimmered with muted light. The wind scattered their bell-like voices across the sky.

"The sky is alive, you know.” the man said. “A realm of its own.”

“I had forgotten," Connor whispered. He turned to the man, whose mist body began drifting toward the waves.

“Do you ever grow tired of watching over me?” Connor said.

“My child! Watching over you has been my greatest joy.”

The man smiled and touched Connor's cheek. His touch was cool, like dew-covered grass on an April morning.

“Let me show you something,” he said. “and I want you to promise you will always remember. Will you do that for me?"

Connor nodded. "I will try," he said.

The man pointed at the sky.

"There is love there, within the clouds, and in the blue between."

Connor watched the clouds shift and change. The shape of a swan with a mermaid's tail flowed through the blue stillness between the clouds.

"It is a love just for you; a message without words, and therefore deeper in the telling.”

"But what if I forget again?" Connor said, tracing shapes in the sand. “Like I did today.”

A breeze moved through the man, and he fairly floated with lightness, like wisps of cottonwood with moonlight behind them.

“Only remember to look up," he said.

The man melted into a mist river and flowed up to the sky. As Connor shielded his eyes from the setting sun, he spotted the silhouette of a grizzly bear, rimmed in silver, bounding lightly, joyfully, into the clouds.


About the author

Isla Wilde

Isla Wilde is a writer and visual artist living in the Pacific Northwest, USA.

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