The Artist and the Angels (#OnceUponNow)

Where the Wind Blows

The wind blew swiftly and silently across the barren Midwestern Plains. The grass shifted and swayed like little chiming whispers; the great trees made great lonely rumbles, not to be heard by any other of their kind, for they were few. It would not take the breeze long to pass through the cluster of manmade structures: the cracking, beaten, crumbling buildings situated like a knot in the rope that was the long, winding road. The place was entirely insignificant to all but those who lived there; its name was unimportant to all including those who lived there. They would prefer to simply call it 'home.'

Finally the wind received its due recognition, as it rattled and sang through beautifully rusted wind chimes on the Anderson's front porch. The chimes kept their noisy clanging alive to herald the entrance – or rather the exit – of a freshly awoken seventeen-year-old. The triumphant song fell on unappreciative ears. She glared at the noisemakers with contempt. They were cheap, old, and had endured one rainstorm too many. Most importantly, they were loud. They drowned out the sound of the teenager's thoughts, and to Jenny May Anderson, that was the sweetest sound she could ever hear.

"It's going to be cold today! Did you bring your sweater?" A sound called from the other side of the screen front door.

"Yes, Mom!" Jenny called back, instinctively raising up the gray wool sweater she carried as a testament of the statement's truth. Autumn got cold fast around here.

"Okay! Have a good day at school, honey!" her mother responded from the same position as before.

"Okay! I will!" That part was a lie. It had been for a long time now that Jenny found school to be dull and lackluster. But she only had one more year. She was so close! Soon, soon she will be far, far away from this place. She would go to college, a good one, no matter how much it cost. And it would be very far away.

Jenny hurried off down the road, her long, dull braid of sandy brown hair trailing behind, awkwardly sharing space with her stuffed backpack. She wore a sharp plaid shirt and blue jeans, faded, just like everything else in this town.

"Hey, Jenny!" a wiry blonde boy cantered up to her side midway through the walking commute.

"Morning, Harold," Jenny smiled back to her friend, somewhat pleased to see him despite the lack of inflection in her voice. His presence always did at least a mediocre job of shaking her from a melancholy mood.

"Getting cold, isn't it?" Harold added with a grin that showed that he really didn't mind the fact at all. "So how are ya? How's your grandma?"

"She's fine. They say's she's getting better," Jenny replied casually enough, though now her face fell and her eyes became well-trained on the ground.

Harold was wise to change the subject. "Say, where's Ruby? She's not sick, ain't she?"

"No," Jenny waved her hand and shrugged. "She just left early today, on her own. Said she wanted to work on some project or something before school starts."

"Sheesh, all on her own?" Harold echoed in a befuddled tone and dramatic raise of the eyebrows. "She seems awful young for that."

Jenny resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn't the first time, and he knew it. It was no big deal. And yet, she couldn't help but feel that he somehow sensed that it was. "She's turning ten in just a little over a month. She's old enough."

"But ain't it lonely? Walking all this way by yourself?"

"No," Jenny replied curtly, effectively ending the conversation. It didn't matter. It wasn't even a long way; she lived right here, in the main town; some people had a full forty-five-minute driving commute to get to school. It wasn't a big deal, really. She just wished she could stop lying to people so much.