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Wind, hate and sorrow

She had heard the whispers of the wind

By Victor ChavarriaPublished 4 months ago 6 min read

A heart-wrenching scream pierced the cold atmosphere of the night. The night dome went pitch black as even the stars tried to hide from the pain on the mother’s voice. Clouds dissipated and rains found somewhere else to fall.

Her brown hair falling to her shoulders was darkened by sweat. Her cheeks were dampened by tears and her sheets stained by blood.

The red pool she was sitting on painted a reflection of her soul. Pain and misery filled her, the rage and sadness mixed in ways she couldn't even begin to comprehend. Her heart kept beating inside of her, relentlessly and strongly but there was no life in her body.

She dared for an instant to raise her gaze, away from the drying blood between her thighs. She dared to look at the lifeless form in front of her.

As quickly as she saw, she turned her head. A new wave of tears flooded her eyes and a cry died on her throat. The sadness was overwhelming. She tried to scream again but it was muted again. Muted by the hate that grew on her. Hate for herself, hate for the world, such profound hate she didn’t even need a reason to hate.

But, she had a reason.

The wind started crashing against the walls of the room making it shake and creak as if in pain. A wooden plank from a wall in front of her broke and fell to the ground. From the hole, a dark dense liquid poured. A putrid smell filled the room. It was as if something evil was there and joined in the mother’s pain.

Without looking this time, the woman extended her arms in front of her. Feeling the sheets, leaving her marks on the half dried blood.

She reached the small figure.

Her fingers crawled through the lifeless body. Each finger tip landing softly on the wet skin, pressing it, sometimes too strongly as if looking for a reaction. She knew there would be no answer.

With her eyes closed, she could see, upon every touch, the promises of an empty future. She saw her child crying for her to feed him.

She threw up.

She saw herself, gently rocking her baby to sleep, kissing him as she laid him on a small cradle.

She reached the baby’s head.

She saw her baby smiling, looking at her.

The mother realized she was burying her nails on the tender skin.

Shaking, tears flowing non stop, she picked up her dead baby and pressed it against her chest. She opened her mouth and screamed at the night. She screamed at the world and called for something. Her soul cried for something out there. Something she didn’t know existed. Something she didn’t even know was listening.

And the wind answered.

A dark veil covered the night. As if darkness itself was trying to hide from the events about to unfold. The woman stood in front of the dark woods. White figure in contrast with the world around her. Her eyes, full of pain, shined as if they had a light of their own.

The wind danced around her, inviting her to join, teasing her, whispering to her ear in a language only known to the forest.

Between her arms she held the empty vessel of her heart. Pushing it as hard as she could to her chest, maybe her heart could beat for both. If only hers could beat strong enough.

The mother was walking, with a smile on her face, holding her son by his hand. He was talking to her, telling her about the new adventure his mind had taken him to. His voice was a melody that warmed her soul, his eyes were two stars that shed light on every corner of her soul.

She took a step.

Her naked foot slapped the uneven ground. The air grew colder as she got closer to the woods. Tall trees towering over her, she could feel their gaze. She could feel them judging her, she tried to hide her baby from them. She could hear them laugh at her, how could she ever dreamed of being a mother.

She tried to stop but the wind whispered in her ear again. A seductive song she couldn’t understand but feel. There was a promise, there was a hope. She could also smell the taint of evil carried by the wind but it was easy to ignore. At least for now.

So she took another step, and another.

As she crossed the threshold marked by the tall trees. She stepped on a different world. The air was still and cold. The trees’ laughter was more than an echo and she could hear their evil laugh clearly and unmistakable. There was no light but she could see as if each of the million drops of water floating around her had a light of their own. Like a luminous mantle that was out of place among shadows, and darker shadows.

The wind didn’t push her or dance around her anymore. She could see its spirit, its form, standing in front of her. It had no shape or sense at all, but it was there, calling her. Calling her to come closer.

She walked towards it.

She was starting to smile herself.

The mother woke up from her sleep as she heard the baby crying. Quickly she went to pick him up from his cradle and started comforting him. Rocking him in her arms. His cries quickly died and she could see love in his eyes, she could see her own reflections on the baby’s dilated pupils. She could see her whole life in his smile.

The woman danced with the wind. Madness laughter came out of her mouth, resonating with every spin and every jump. The wind guided her dance on a circle around the dead body she had dropped on the ground. She laughed as if in madness but inside her mind she could see. She had heard the whispers, tasted and saw the promises of the forest. She had seen her baby alive so she rejoiced. Offering her soul as payment, everything she owned. She danced and danced until her soles were bloody. And then she danced even more.

She offered everything she was to the wind, her own essence to the forest. Her naked body didn’t even touch the ground anymore as the wind took her on a dance around the ever seeing trees. She then made a pact with the forest. She then promised her own body as a vessel for the forest spawn. A twisted promise and a payment too high.

A heart-wrenching scream pierced the cold atmosphere of the night. The newborn cried, hungry, looking for the touch and care of the mother who brought it to this world. He was not a human baby, his skin darker and eyes yellow. He was the heir of something darker, something beyond natural.

He heard the horrorized scream of her mother. His skin ached for the touch of her hands, his eyes wanted to look at her but he was too weak to move on his own.

So he cried, and cried until all his strength was gone. Cried until his life was gone.

The mother knew, as the wind crashed against the walls that she had little time left. The one she met long ago had come to claim its own, and she had left the baby to die. She smelled the stench and saw the dark liquid start pouring through the walls. She felt the wind start to break through. She felt its claws on her throat.

The ancient forest, the angry force of the wind was claiming her soul.

She saw her lifeless body laying in a pool of blood. The small shape of a baby next to it. She saw the liquid reach and swallow both. She saw no more but she heard the whispers of the wind.

She heard.

The evil laugh of a child.

PsychologicalShort StoryHorrorFantasy

About the Creator

Victor Chavarria

I'm a writer not cause I write. I'm a writer cause I'm truly myself when I do.

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Comments (1)

  • Novel Allen4 months ago

    This was terrifying and interesting and filled with lovely horror. The devil always comes back for that which we promised. And a child shall lead the, inso many different ways. Great story.

Victor ChavarriaWritten by Victor Chavarria

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