The Wind and the Window

The wind whispers at my windows, the promise of winter wet upon its lips.

“Let me in” it whispers with a slow seduction.

“I shall never let you in for you shall kill me and feast upon my bones.” I say.

“But I am the wind; I cool you in the summer and blow away the leaves in the fall. Tell me child, why will you not offer me the comfort of your home?”

“You are not the wind”

The wind moans, and shakes my window, the glass rattling like dice in a cup.

“Someday, boy you’ll open this window for me and I shall kill you and feast upon your bones.” The wind outside whipped against the glass and I was afraid.

“Someday I shall, but not today. today I keep my windows closed, today I resist your temptations, today I still have things to live for and things to do. But someday I shall.” And with that the wind died down, and I breathed a sigh, not of relief but of regret.

“Someday I shall.” I whispered to the dark.

 

Author's Note

I respectfully ask is that you don�t critique my work or my grammar, but I welcome comments with open arms.

Reviews

[Max Murphy]

Nice concise story, takes me back to when I was young; in the dark every sound was amplified and petrified me irrationally, my curtains became monsters every time the light went out. Great piece, methodically written.

[Deaths Cold Kiss]

love this story

[Raevyne]

I really adore this.

[megaluv92]

i like this a lot. ♥

[Glassboxes]

WENDIGO! I don't know but it sounded sort of similar. Eerie and very 'prosetry'.