"Lila," a voice whispered. "Lila."
"Hm?" She hummed, sitting back in her chair to admire her work.
"It's almost midnight. You should get home," he murmured.
"I will," she said, packing up her paints and washing her brushes. "I'm going, hold on a minute."
"Hurry, Lila," he muttered. "Your Mama is waiting."
"Of course she is," Lila snapped. "She always is."
"Come on now," the West Wind whispered softly as he ushered her to the door. "Hurry along."
"I'm going!" She huffed.
The wind jerked away.
"Why must you always push me around?! I know I'm supposed to go home, I just don't care to! Just- just leave me alone!" She shouted. When there was no response, she spun on her heel and slammed through the door, running towards home.
The West Wind, meanwhile, had blown in the opposite direction.
He was hurt.
While the streets near Lila's home remained quiet, silent even, the north side of the city was screaming with the ferocious windstorm.
Lila was sent to sleep with a soft tune murmuring from her mother's record player in the parlor.
But the wind, he didn't stop to rest. He kept going and going, tearing across the earth and through the universe, straight into the sun.
----------------
"And so," the teacher said. "That's why we have no wind in the south."
"But Miss Lila!" A kid insisted. "What about the north?"
"They have wind, dear," she murmured. "They've got plenty of wind."
YOU ARE READING
Lavender Lullabies / complete
Short Story"But Lila," he whispered. "You'll miss your curfew." "So?" I stared him down. "Curfews are for children." ------------------- Since she turned twelve he's been there, watching. Always watching. And as the clock ticks past twelve each night, he whisp...
