The man who sells misfortune

SORRY IF I MADE YOU CRY OR ANYTHING! Please comment though. Story belongs to me.

He didn't know why he was here. The wind brought him here but he did not know why. As the colours drained away with the sun's orange ray, the playground was replaced with something foreboding. Swings turned into gallows, birds turned into owls, trees into nothing. Darkness had consumed everything even the bright moon and stars. He then realised that this darkness was life draining; there was no owl hooting, no wind that led him here, not even a cricket chirping. 

"Why am I here?" the man asked particularly to no one. 

As if something heard his words, the wind suddenly kicked up again. Dry leaves crackled as the strong wind blew them dancing across the dark playground. He held on to his scarf that threaten to fly off his neck. However, the wind seemed to have another plan for him. With one mighty puff, the soft red fabric broke free from his iron grip and went dancing with the wind. He let out a curse as he chased the scarf that snaked across the sky. The wind appeared to be teasing him; it would die down, dropping the piece of wool just a several feet in front of him but when his fingertips reached out for just a thread of it, the wind would kick up again, snatching the scarf out of his hands. 

"Blasted wind!" he growled with frustration as he watched the scarf fluttered away. 

Time and time again the wind would fall and victory would bubble up within him, only to be yanked away once again by the wind. Finally, after several feats of launching himself onto the scarf, the wind appeared to be bored of this song and dance. It gently blew the woollen fabric up into a tall tree, hanging by the tip of a thin branch. He let out an exasperated sigh. The tree stood ghost like - a silent observer of the playground. Its branches fanned out wide like petals of a blossom. Something about it drew him closer to it like a moth to a flame but he couldn't tell what it was. 

He ran his hands across the bark, his fingertips traced each rough crevice, mapping out their path. It was chaotic like cracks in a parched summer earth. It was so familiar yet so distant. He racked his now foggy brain trying to pull something out of it but he just couldn't. The man dug his nails into the tree, pulling himself up and grabbing onto the branch as he climbed the tree. Suddenly, a high pitch sobbed broke the silence of park. His eyes darted around to see a child crying underneath the same large tree. 

Her eyes were covered by her small pale hands as more sobs broke through her mouth. Her blonde hair fluttered along with the wind. It was autumn now; the park was awash with the multi-coloured offerings of the trees and the commuters wrapped their coats around themselves tighter instead of allowing them to flap in the breeze. None of them seemed to notice the young girl crying at the tree as more pearly tears slipped past her hand. 

"What's wrong?" a voice asked. 
"My scarf! The wind blew up into that tall tree," she pointed at the tree, her ocean blue eyes filled with tears, they were just so familiar. 

The man looked up at the tree. As she said, there was indeed a scarf hanging on the highest branch of the tree; a bright red woollen one.

Just like the one he was wearing now

The man scratched his head at the sight of the hanging scarf. He walked up towards the tree and took a deep breath. His hands dug into the rugged fissure as he pulled himself up from the ground. Slowly but surely, he reached up to the top, his hand reaching out from the red fabric that threaten to fly away once more. The little girl watched him, her mouth wide open with awe. His hands grabbed the scarf and he was about to let out an "Ah ha!" when there was a loud crack. The branch beneath his feet gave way and gravity pulled him down back to the ground. There was low groan of pain followed by the sound of dry leaves crunching by tiny feet. 

"Are you okay?!" the little girl asked.

There was no movement from the man on the ground. It was silent for a while when suddenly, one eye flickered open. The man let out a playful roar and grabbed the little girl. She let out a squeal of surprised delight as he tickled her and peppered her with raspberries. Hearty laughter broke the out in the playground as the orange red leaves danced across the sky. Soon the laughter diminished into childish giggles.

"I love you sweetie," the man smiled as he wrapped the red scarf around her neck.

The little girl gave him a large toothy grin between the innocent giggles.

"I love you too, Daddy,"

He reached out towards them, only for the memory to fade like rippling water. The memories were flowing back to him like a tsunami. In the midst of them was a choir of scream followed by the screeching of tyres. For a moment, the world seemed to be made up of blurry, distorted shapes, wavering as if through a rain-drenched window. He looked down at the scarf in his hands. 

The last thing left of his daughter

Sorrow clawed at his heart and finally out of his throat. Wails of anguish, of grief, of heartbreak, noises that should never ever come out of a human. His hands are clenched into bone-white fists with the red soft fabric over his lips. His body wrecked with painful sobs. Pearly salty tears rolled down his cheeks as he screamed in between heart wrenching sobs. He was screaming at the sky, at the star, at the world, at anyone who could hear him. His heart was shattered into a million pieces as more howls of pure misery tore out of his throat. Fate was cruel; taking the last thing that he truly loved and cherished. He pulled the red scarf close to his broken shattered heart. He wanted to watch her little girl grow and blossom into a bright beautiful strong woman like a flower in spring. Life had a wicked sense of humour

Hours of howls and wails finally died down into broken sobs. He looked up to the skies through watery eyes. The black before him had a velvet quality, like the air had been thickened somehow. There were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. The stars twinkled back at him sadly. Then he looked around him. He on the roof of his apartment. Millions of lights caused the dense mass of skyscrapers glitter. People were needle points and cars were blood cells flowing through the veins of the city. Despite the time, the hustle and bustle never came to a halt. The city's residents were off to the movies or to spend time with their love ones. 

The thought of it brought tears into his eyes

He no longer had the strength to stop the tears, to cry until his throat was raw, to feel anything else around him. Shakily he got up to his feet, his hands clutching onto the red scarf for dear life. 

I am so sorry 

His bloodshot eyes slid shut, darkness consuming him. 

He could no longer feel anything except the wind kissing his cheek.



CRACK!

Reviews

[VinneTheCreator]

It was a good story. The exposition was not haphazardly shoved in the beginning like so many stories but was instead ingeniously spread throughout story. And the part in the middle where his current experience intermingled with a memory had me questioning what was happening which, assuming that's what you were going for, was refreshing. Some parts though were a bit overly histrionic. For example, the "Sorrow clawed at his heart..." paragraph, while very passionate, was considerably overplayed. While I might expect these emotions from a young girl or even a young man with a prominent feminine side, I feel it would be more fitting for a man old enough to have a daughter, albeit a dead daughter, to experience somewhat more muted emotions, though not any less tragic.
-Vinne