Wind. Daniel Mello
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She was sure the divine light at the end of a tunnel would be coming for her soon. She just wished that it would arrive before the wind. That way she could just spend eternity with God, instead of changing all the time.
Quite suddenly, she grew an awareness of her body. It felt like her very consciousness had blossomed outward to fill a silhouetted border of her frame. She couldn’t pinpoint her extremities yet, let alone move anything, but she felt she knew where her body stopped and eternity began. She wanted to look around, to turn her head in order to find the wind, but she couldn’t.
And it was getting louder. The rushing windstorm was closer now, almost upon her. But it must’ve been shifting inside the Universe, because it would get louder and louder, then quiet again, almost as if it was moving two steps forward and one step back. And every time it got louder, there was a freezing sensation of despair that washed over her newly formed body. Though she couldn’t turn to see the wind, she almost wished it would stop toying with her and consume her already.
From somewhere deep inside the Universe, light began to break through the darkness. Finally, Heaven was coming for her. She willed it to hurry, to reach her before the wind. Strangely, however, the ever increasing light had a bluish tinge to it. Wasn’t heavenly light supposed to be dazzlingly bright?
As if in response to her thoughts, she suddenly shot across the entire Universe at an unimaginable speed. An ethereal wind rushed and roared past as her unearthly hair flapped in the gale behind her. The bluish light, the icy despair, and the roaring wind all collided at once as she snapped back into her human body, crushed against the inside of her skull.
She felt her finger tips, her toes, and her heartbeat. She felt the warmth of sunlight soothe her skin as it dried the water on her face. She felt the despair cripple her body as the ice cold ocean washed over her again, before receding back down the shore. And she felt that same cold water bubble inside her lungs.
Instantly, she heaved her body over as it ejected the salty seawater from inside her chest. She coughed as she vomited out what felt like the entire ocean. And she clutched at her throat as every new breath and every painful swallow burned like the inside of the sun itself. Half-alive, she forced herself to crawl away from the frigid sea, up further onto the shore until it couldn’t touch her anymore. Finally, she collapsed onto the sand and breathed in the crisp air. It relieved the pain from her burning throat, while the sunlight warmed her skin.
She lay there for what seemed like hours. As her strength gradually returned, she lifted her body up to look around the beach. With any luck, she would have drifted back toward Flowerpatch and back toward her grandmother. She could only imagine the look that would contort Hildabrand’s face when she told her what she’d just been through.
But her surroundings were not like the shore she had just left. In fact, they were unlike any place she’d ever seen on Hyrendell before. Around her, almost framing the shoreline, was a huge hill that reached toward the sapphire sky. It was covered in a soft, flourishing greensward that swayed with the sea breeze, and it had massive boulders jutting out of the soil, dotting the landscape. But as she focused her eyes upon the huge rocks, she noticed that they were actually marble stones formed into squat circular pillars. They were artfully engraved with an unknown script beside simple images; there were little figures who were either offering food to the sun or gardening, while the strange jagged language must’ve been describing the whole scenario.
Suddenly, Lythina noticed that a person was standing atop each stone. Not carved of stone themselves, but men and women of real flesh; and they were all looking upon her. Though their expressions were of joyful curiosity, however, she noticed, none of them seemed too eager to jump off their rocks and help her up.
As she caught each of their eyes, she unintentionally gave them a weak smile. She was examining their figures, their features, and their clothing. All of them were exceptionally beautiful, with perfect curves of toned muscle and blemish-free skin. Some of them looked exotic, due to their sharp features, while others looked softer, like they were from Hyrendell. And the clothes they wore were extremely unusual due to their brilliant, pure white hue. The women were vivid with their wind-swept hair, and slimming, sleeveless dresses with a silver band tied high around the waist. Some of the men wore robes with long trumpet sleeves, while others wore only straight, loose-fitting slacks, allowing their bronze, chiseled physiques to absorb the generous sunlight.
“Okay,” Lythina quietly admitted to herself, “maybe I’m in Heaven after all.”
For a moment, she reveled in the many possibilities that eternity could possess, though a painful realization was throbbing through her veins; if, in fact, she was truly in Heaven, why was her body in such turmoil? After a disheartening sigh, she concluded that pain of any kind was unfathomable to her in the afterlife, and thus she had instead washed ashore upon a distant land.
While gazing at the landscape and its people, she noticed a long weaving staircase cut into the hillside. It led straight up to the peak of the hill, where Lythina had to shield her eyes from the brightness of the day. And that’s when she noticed a small flash of light. It looked as if the sun itself had momentarily peeked over the crest of the hill. It vanished as soon as it appeared, and in its place was a person descending the stairs toward her. Lythina realized that she had better get up to introduce herself, and as she pressed against the shore to ease her body off of the sand, she wobbled and settled for a gentle sitting position on her legs instead. She wasn’t strong yet, what from nearly dying and everything, and she was sure that whoever was coming to greet her would excuse her impoliteness.
As she waited, Lythina noticed that the person was a woman wearing a sleeved robe fashioned in the same stunningly white brilliance, yet she was much older than the others; indeed, old enough to be their grandmother. Her silvery hair trailed behind her as she descended the stairs, and when she reached the sand, she walked right up to the young lady with a compassionate smile.
Lythina was about to say hello, but the woman bent down to kneel in front of her, mimicking her exact sitting position. Uncertain what to make of this, she found herself suddenly speechless.
But the old woman must’ve sensed Lythina’s thoughts. “Are you alright, dear?”
Her voice carried a delicate accent and an undercurrent of authority, seeming to vibrate dominance along with empathy. Lythina got the distinct feeling that if she decided not to speak, it would be perfectly acceptable. However, she did have much to say.
“I...I think so,” the young lady replied, hearing her voice for the first time since everything went dark. It was abrasive and unused, as if it was coated with sand. “I’m Lythina Graham.”
“It is very nice to meet you, Lythina,” the woman replied. “We’ve never had someone arrive on our shores in that manner before. We were quite worried about you, but everyone has relaxed now that we know you are safe.”
“Where am I?” Lythina hoarsed.
“That question is more important than you know, I think,” the woman said. “I’ll show you.” She gave Lythina the once over and rose to her feet with a gracefulness that was not reminiscent of her age. Lythina noticed that the woman didn’t have to brush the sand from her robe; it simply fell off, as if the fabric had dropped it back to the shore. Leisurely, the woman held out a hand to help her new guest up from the beach. Cognizant of the fact that she needed help, Lythina took it and found that it was unusually warm. Carefully, she stood to her feet. She rested for a second, allowing her spine to pop into place and compress with the weight of her body. She rolled her neck and caught in her sight the full length of the stone staircase. With a moan, she began toward the hill. The old woman intertwined