When Winds Change

There was something different about today. Jeremiah could smell it on the wind. Its buttery soft warmth floating in cascading swirls. Warm but also clean as morning dew, rising like glittering smoke, up, up, up, into his tower tossing his golden locks playfully. It smelled fresh, the promise of an adventure tickling at his nose, he breathed deeply. From his window, Jeremiah’s whole world consisted of that which he could see. From the golden meadow down below painted with a rainbow of wildflowers to the trickling clear stream around the tower’s base, to the misty mountains in the distance, it was his, and this was his golden hour. When dawn breaks and the world yawns in sleepy contentedness, rubbing its eyes at a glorious dream, it stretches and breathes. Deep in his core, Jeremiah knew with perfect certainty as if it was something he had always known. He was ready. Today was the day he told himself. Today, I will leave this tower and my life will finally begin.

But first breakfast. Jeremiah at last turned away from the open window and withdrew into the chilled circular stone living room. A kitchenette hugged the eastern wall, its oval island covered in books both old and new, most open to a specific passage or picture. Lying haphazardly, one on top of the other, they filled the space, covering notebooks of sketches, pencils, rocks, crackled dried leaves, and a multitude of other assorted items. But what to bring, Jeremiah thought. He sat down on the kitchen stool staring at his books. They were his companions, his enemies, his family, and his friends. How was he to leave them all behind? He tried to lie to himself and tell himself he would be back, but that was not the plan. All his life he had been afraid. Afraid of the world and the people in it who would do him harm. But he was done being afraid. He wanted to experience the world even if that meant putting himself in danger. He was after all turning eighteen tomorrow and it was about time he lived.

Jeremiah plucked a thin brown book from the pile, its title worn off by age, and quickly grabbed the newish notepad underneath. Both of these items he placed into his knapsack along with a pair of jeans, two white t-shirts, and several undergarments. Tension picked up in his muscles as he began to move quicker around the tower. Once decided, he felt anxiety eating away at his thoughts. Now, he screamed in his head, I must go now. Jeremiah grabbed six links of sausage, a hunk of aged cheddar, and a crusty brown loaf of bread, stuffing the lot into his bag, now so full it barely closed. I can eat on the road he told himself just as his stomach growled in protest. It suddenly felt so urgent that if he did not leave that very moment, he never would.

A sharp whistle brought Cicerone, his mostly white barn owl, careening from the rafters scattering feathers everywhere. Jerimiah snorted a bark of laughter and proceeded to scoop her off the chair she fell upon. Then tucking her safely into his open-collared shirt, her soft feathers tickling his neck, he was ready. With one last look around the space, dust motes floating in the air, Jeremiah whispered his goodbye. There was a time and place for everything in this world and now this part was over. He swung his long golden hair out the tower window, hooking it around a great metal ring, and slid himself down.

As soon as his foot hit the ground he was off, splashing across the stream, his sandaled feet spraying droplets of liquid into the air. He slid up the embankment on the far side, grabbing handfuls of grass in support. The earthy smell enveloped him, and he smiled. Alive, he felt alive. Jeremiah jogged through the wildflowers, his muscles pulsing in sweet release, and all too soon he was sweating. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky and the air around him felt slightly sticky. Jeremiah made good time throughout the morning under the sun’s heated gaze until finally, he burst through the lofty shade-bearing tree line that served as the entry into the thousand-year wood. Jeremiah paused to rest on a moss-covered log. The hill up ahead was as far as he had ever gotten, ever dared to venture, and even then, that was further than he ever admitted to his Uncle.

Cicerone nuzzled out of his shirt, playfully nipping at Jeremiah’s chin, and hooted a quick goodbye as she darted off into the trees to hunt. Well, I guess now is as good a time as any, he thought as he withdrew two sausages and a hunk of bread for lunch. He sorely wished he had remembered to pack jam, a mustard, something, to make the dry loaf a little more flavorful. The cheese he held off for later.

He was halfway through the second sausage when he heard the first twig break. His heart thumped wildly in response. It was just an animal, he chided himself, calm down, man, quit being so jumpy. But his ears continued to strain as the sausage stayed hung in the air hovering in front of his lips. Several tense seconds passed, which surely must have been many minutes, until finally out of the corner of Jeremiah’s eye three shadows emerged from the far side of the clearing. Frozen in fear, Jeremiah could not bring himself to turn his head fully to see the newcomers; instead, he sat as a statue, listening to them draw near. More tree branches crunched underfoot and suddenly he wished with all his heart to be back in the safety of his tower.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t our lucky day boys”, the tallest shadow chimed as he rounded the log into view. He was quite tall and lanky with greasy black hair cut short in the back with thin bangs slicked onto a pale forehead. The boys he was referring to, as it turned out, were actually girls, twins by the looks of their flaming red hair and freckles.

“Oh, hello there, blondie”, the closer one sang in a sickly-sweet voice that crawled up Jeremiah’s arms like an infestation of red ants. She sauntered over to the black-haired boy and wrapped her arms around his waist continuing to stare at Jeremiah. “What’s a boy doing with such long blonde hair? Ha-ha. She pouted out her lower lip. Did mommy wish you were a girl?” she sneered, cackling aggressively into the silent air.

Jeremiah said nothing in response. His eyes darted from the two strangers to the second red-haired girl still standing back in the shadow of a tree. She at least did not seem as amused as the other two, her arms crossed over a blue knee-length dress, her bright green eyes narrowed and frowning.

“Oh, come on, Marnie, the tall boy said to his female companion as he pulled her even closer, we don’t want to make the little girl cry.”

“I am not a girl; Jeremiah spoke up at last. And even if I was, what business is it of yours? I am nobody, just go. Leave me alone, please, he added hopefully, which only brought on another wave of cackling laughter.

“What beautiful golden hair," Marnie sang, as she bent down to yank on one end that was braided and curled up into a soft pile on the forest floor. "Now, this could make a very nice wig all right. What do you think Cyra, she turned to face her twin, Fancy not matching anymore?”

Several tense minutes passed where holding his breath, Jeremiah’s mind raced to figure a way out of the situation. Where once he thought himself quite capable of being on his own, he began to see just how wholly unprepared he was. He knew what his Uncle would have said, See, Jer, see? What I have always told you? People are horrible, liars and thieves and cannot be trusted. You should have stayed with me, Jeremiah. I always cared for you and kept you safe, didn't I? And all I ever asked in return was for you to care for me back. Was that so bad? Don’t you love me anymore, buddy?

Maybe Uncle was right, Jeremiah thought to himself bitterly, but fat lot of good that’s going to do me now. However, out loud he said, “Look, I don’t know you, but I have food if you are hungry, he said hoping to ease the tension. Adding quickly, "But you cannot have my hair, he said firmly trying in vain to shake it loose from Marnie’s grasp. It is mine, now if you please, kindly sit or be on your way.” Good, he thought, that sounded good, I’m in charge.

But just then, Tall Boy took out a switchblade from his left jean pocket, snapping it open so the metal gleaned in the rays of sunlight that poured in from in between the tree canopy. “I’ll make you a wig, my love,” he sneered, ignoring Jeremiah completely. He grabbed the golden hair from Marnie’s hand pulling hard knocking Jeremiah off the log and watched as he fell face-first into a puddle of mud.

Several things then happened all at once. Cicerone, who had been watching from a high branch above Jeremiah’s head, dove down with talons directed toward Marnie causing Marnie to scream and fall squarely on her backside. Tall boy managed to get his blade under one of Jeremiah’s braids and cut. The golden color bled to black instantly and he jerked back dropping the hair. “What the hell!” he cried, just as the other sister, Cyra, Marnie called her, darted out from the trees, and ran at Tall boy. They collided when he jerked back, his knife plunging into the blue fabric as he fell on the redheaded girl.

The forest became silent once again as Cicerone landed on Jeremiah’s shoulder and they all stared at the bleeding girl, mud still dripping from Jeremiah’s face.

“Shit, Shit, Shit,” Tall boy muttered staring widely at his blood-stained hands, having left the knife in the girl’s chest. Marnie proceeded to crawl over to her sister, tears streaming down her face.

“Oh god, oh god, what do we do?” She looked at Jeremiah in desperation.

Jeremiah could only stare back. He knew what he could do. He also knew what he mustn’t ever do. The thing that would expose him to the world and cause him to be hunted to the ends of the Earth. If Uncle were here, he would have walked away, tugging him behind not looking back. Jeremiah knew this because as it so happens a long time ago it had happened before.

Jeremiah was seven when his Uncle allowed him to finally tag along to town. It was his birthday gift, after months of begging, followed by months of yelling, then months of bargaining, which turned finally into moping. Jeremiah remembered that muggy summer day. The dust on the road kicked up as the mule pulled their wagon at a slow jostling pace, him sitting in the back, legs dangling over the sides, bumping along listening to the sound of Uncle’s snores. It was a long road to town, and as they were set to arrive just past dusk, there were many hot hours to go.

It was only when the mule sunk its left leg into the crater did Jeremiah register the snap of a broken bone. He jumped off the cart immediately, going over, his golden locks wrapped tight around his wrist. He touched the mule’s leg and began to whisper softly.

Jeremiah only managed the first two bars of his healing song when Uncle slapped him in the back of the head. “No, son, he spoke with a tone that did not broker argument. No.”

Jeremiah did not fight. He did not continue. Instead, he went back to the cart, gathered up his knapsack, and followed his Uncle on foot home. Jeremiah did not ask for another birthday gift after that, nor did he ever accompany his Uncle to town again.

Now, Jeremiah stood over a bleeding girl, unable to move, Tall boy and Marnie still on their knees hovering over the prone form. He bent over and picked up his blackened braid, considering what that might mean. What any of this could mean? What he did right now, what he chose to do or not to do would change the course of history, his history to be sure, but maybe even the world’s.

Modest aren’t cha? he murmured to himself inside his own skull.

Jeremiah took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He once again caught the scent of the wind. The smell of adventure, of change.

“Move”, he spoke, forcing steady determination into his voice. Marnie pulled Tall boy back to make room for Jeremiah to bend down, his knee dipping in a warm puddle of blood. He pulled his other braid over his shoulder and laid it on Cyra’s chest.

Softly, he began singing, his voice deep and more vast than oceans combined. His voice was starlight and space and eternity. Jeremiah held Cyra's hand, staring into green unseeing eyes. His hair glowed ethereally as it began to heal.