“Gone With the Wind”

By Theresa Walker

Gone with the Wind

A warm breeze blew on the sunny spring afternoon, making the loose hairs which had escaped the girl’s ponytail sway, every so often tickling her cheek. As she walked down the street a dandelion fluff appeared floating before her; she loved chasing fluffs.

The routine began as it always did. The fluff would arrive on the spring air to the girl and pass before her, sometimes even being so bold as to lightly brush her face. The girl would then strike out her hand in an attempt to snatch it from the air, but as always it evaded her. The first few attempts would be aggressively frantic, but soon the two would find a rhythm with one another.

When the wind blew stronger, causing the fluff to race down the street more quickly, she would sprint after it, smiling and giggling like a toddler. The fluff acted as if performing calculated moves, drifting forward and back, swaying side to side, and the girl just followed suit. When a hitch in the breeze caused the fluff to leap up higher, the girl leapt right along with it. Those times the wind would change direction, the fluff quickly moving behind her, the girl would twirl around and all the time the smile would never leave her face. The two moved so in sync it was as though they had silently choreographed their own dance, so full of delicate grace even the best ballet dancers would have shed a tear.

As she pranced and twirled down the street, she sometimes wondered why she loved chasing fluffs so much. She had already begun secondary school, a teenager she was, too old to be enjoying such things. As well she was too old to believe this fluff was more than just the result of a dandelion shedding. For no teen would possibly still believe catching the fluff would actually grant her heart’s desire, nor would they believe the delicate floating object to be a tiny fairy, beckoning her to follow. No, of course this could not be true, though why not? Why should she believe this fluff had no reason to come to her this day? Perhaps it was just as bored as she and thought they could find amusement in each other; this could be the case. Why should people stop believing in fairy tales and magic? Why must only the little children be the ones allowed to dream? As she wondered this, she continued to follow the fluff, for something so small it was like a beacon guiding her, to where she knew not.

Following after the tiny dancer she felt even more like a child, not only that but she felt lighter than she had in years. As she pounced after it the weight of her home life first melted away from her and she vaulted higher as she reached up for it. Then soon, the stresses of school blew away with the breeze and she leapt higher still. One by one her problems lifted off of her until she felt as if she was flying right there alongside it with each bound. A wave of happiness washed over her and she never wanted this moment to end.

The further she went and the more she ran and jumped the more it taunted her, sometimes going as low as brushing her thin, graceful fingertips arrogantly before bouncing back up out of their reach. Even as she began to tire, she did not give up. She began to pant, sometimes so much so that it was she who would cause the fragile fragment to blow beyond her span; her golden tendrils of hair burst out of their restraint and flowed around her, encircling her face in a shining mane. Soon her face dripped with sweat, her arms grew heavy and her swats required more effort, but still she remained resilient; and still her grace knew no bounds.

She still laughed and giggled, in her own little world. It was not until the horn blared that she noticed she had stepped right off of the curb and onto the road. But the warning came too late…

The car struck her with a sickening crunch, and she lay there on the ground, her body splayed out as if welcoming what came next. Her hair encircled her head like a halo, and she looked just as angelic and full of grace as before. Though she could not move, her breaths becoming shallow, she never lost the smile on her face. For as she lay there, the cold creeping in, she still felt the lightness of all the weight that had left her. As her vision was consumed by the darkness, she saw what looked like a fluff dancing across it; soon more and more appeared until the darkness was filled with them. As her life slowly faded away from her, she realized she had never felt so calm. She was the happiest she had ever been.

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Theresa Walker’s work has previously appeared in the Juvenis Festival Time Anthology and the Wingless Dreamers’ “Writers of Tomorrow” Issue.