Question of the Nightwind

 Question of the Nightwind 

By JessicaRae 

 

 

The Nightwind touched a gentle leaf, and asked “What does aloneness feel like?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” the leaf relief, waving in the warm breeze. “There are hundreds of us on this branch. I have never felt the emotion you speak of. I certainly am not alone.” 

In confusion, the Nightwind kissed the leaf and traveled out into the darkness. It looked left and right to find someone to ask and ran straight into a concrete wall.  

“I say there,” the concrete laughed boisterously. “Am I in your way?” 

“Why no, dear me, no.” the Nightwind asked, embarrassed, pulling itself together again. “Grand skyscraper, please, I have a question.” 

“Go ahead,” he replied, golden eyes winking as little square lights along his height flickered on and off.  

“What does aloneness feel like?” The Nightwind waited with eagerness, holding his breath for an answer. 

“Do I look alone to you?” the skyscraper laughed kindly. “I have people living inside of me, hundreds. They play here, and live here, and die here. I am their castle, their tower above the world that they live. I definitely am not alone.” 

The Nightwind faded at the skyscraper’s words, and he slumped into a whisper of a breeze. “Thanks anyway,” he sighed, and the last blinking eye flickered out, leaving the skyscraper silent and asleep.  

Nightwind traveled on into the city, finding a busy traffic light gleaming into the darkness. “I say there, Mr. Green, might I ask a question!” 

The rectangular device chuckled and swayed as the Nightwind wrapped a friendly arm around him.  

“Ah, Night Wind, good to see you. Bit of a busy chap I am right now. Got to keep the traffic going. Say there, you blooming idiot! Can’t you see the light is turning red, get the brakes on, there’s a good Laddie! Hey, East and West, your turn now, off the reds, take the green!” 
“Aye, aye, captain!” shouted the opposite set of lights. They flashed brilliant green in the darkness, and the roar of motors and exhaust dissipated Nightwind into vapor. He quickly reassembled and asked again, “Mr. Green – ah, Red, can I ask you a question.” 

“You got my full attention for thirteen more seconds, Nightwind, go ahead.” 

“What is aloneness?” 

“What is – blast, what an unusual question, don't know anything about it. East, West, get the yellows on, there we go, watch the guy in the turn lane, give him an arrow. Alrighty, back to green for North and South!” 

The weary Nightwind drifted away from the busy intersection, feeling a bit sad that no one around him had experienced aloneness and could at least explain to him what it was.  

He drifted through the Central Park, pausing beside a sleeping bird. He opened his mouth to speak, when the sound of tiny cooing reached his ears. The babies slept peacefully. This bird knew nothing of aloneness.  

He swished down a chimney to find a small family sitting around the fire chattering and playing games. They were not alone. He flew back up the brick tunnel, hearing something about a draft and soot, as he poured out into the night sky again.  

He wandered down by the ocean, the roaring of the waves mixing salt with his water vapor. “What is aloneness?” he shouted at the ocean, but the myriad of dancing waves drowned out his voice as they played and raced each other to the shoreline. They were not alone.  

Nightwind flew high into the atmosphere, where water vapor just like him floated in the form of blissful clouds. “What is aloneness?” he asked hopefully.  

“Not now, wind!” The pillowy cloud scolded. “We are making shapes for the people to guess at. They love that game. Timothy, that is not a whale, come on you can do better than that. Give it some more tail. Matthew, that is – oh that is not going to be work, we can’t have people seeing that. They will think we have a sense of humor. Come on, pick a different shape. Chop-chop now. Don’t be a child. You, wind, stay back, we don’t need you ripping the shapes apart!”  

So, the clouds were not alone.  

Wistfully, the wind flew higher and higher, bursting through the atmosphere into the canopy of lights above the earth that he called home. “What is aloneness, please, please say you have an answer!” He begged a twinkling star. The shimmering light smiled and looked away. The wind turned, following the gaze of the little orb. Spreading out, as far as eye could see, twirled playful galaxies, and myriad stars, all shining and singing to each other.  

So not even the stars were truly alone. 

Nightwind dove back to earth, frustration intensifying his energy. He flew through empty passageways, up the side of buildings, and tossed garbage into the air in reflection of his pain. “Somebody, somewhere, answer me!!” 

He drifted back to the surface of the ground, spreading the dew of his tears over the blades of grass. There was no one else to ask.  

“So, you found it,” the leave chuckled above him, a simple rustling to the ears of the passersby.  

“Found what?” the Nightwind murmured from his place near the ground, too cast down to look up at the leaves above him.  

“You have found the meaning of aloneness. It is the cause of the way you feel right now, the pain, the feeling that no one understands, no one feels what you feel, no one else relates to you. It is the absence of something else.” 

“I do not like it,” the wind whispered softly, looking up at the leaves and the clouds and the stars and the still skyscrapers above him that all seemed to be content.  

“Go find someone else alone, and stay with them,” the leaves said kindly. “Make sure no one else feels that way on your watch.” 

“So I shall!” The Nightwind rushed from his dewy bed of self-pity and swept through the city. He touched the cheek of a security guard, standing outside of a small shop. This reminded the man of summer nights on his porch steps as a kid, catching lightning bugs, and memories surfaced to keep him company. Happy to have made a difference, the Nightwind danced along, picking up a newspaper clipping and tossing it into the hands of a man sitting dejected on the curb. The ‘Job Wanted’ add gleamed up in the streetlight, and he jumped to his feet, the hope he felt obvious in his stride as he rushed into his house calling “Honey, I am going to call this guy! Everything will be okay!” 

Further encouraged, Nightwind swirled up a high-rise apartment complex, coming to rest at a balcony. Standing alone on the balcony was a young woman, her robe wrapped around her tightly, as if to keep off the chill of the night.  

She appeared sad. She appeared alone. 

Nightwind swirled closer, brushing her skin with a kindly touch. “Maiden fair, why are you alone? Why are you sad.” 

“Who am I kidding, we can’t ever be together,” she whispered into the darkness, a damp tear glimmering at the edge of her eyelid.  
“No, no!” the Nightwind panicked, brushing back her hair. “Do not cry, his name, what is his name?” 

“Vincent,” she whispered in the darkness, the glimmering tear tumbling down her cheek. “My dear Vincent.” 

“Got it, this guy is Vincent, and what is your name?” The Nightwind grabbed a twig lying on the balcony floor and write a reminder in his mist. 

“Catherine,” she whispered, imagining how it would sound, if a certain someone said it as softly as the wind.  

The Nightwind nodded.  
“Got it, Vincent, Catherine. Wait here!”  

Immediately, the Nightwind rushed away, flying through the city in search of this Vincent. He flew up chimneys and down bridges, through tunnels and across highways. Desperate, exhausted, the little whirlwind searched and searched. Dawn kissed the skyline and it blushed, red and shining against the black sky. Time was running out for the Nightwind.  

“Vincent, Vincent!” The Nightwind swirled through the leaves, rustling them in their beds. “Be quiet,” the mother bird hissed at him, her beak frowning in reproof. “The children are sleeping!” 

Miffed and exhausted, the Nightwind drifted to the ground again, soaking the poor grass blades in his dewy tears. He knew the pain of aloneness, and he had finally found someone whose aloneness he could not change. The pain of it would die with him at dawn’s glow, and he would be a failure.  

The soft swishing of a cloak came to his ears, and the Nightwind sighed. People were awake now, and it was a matter of time before the sun would dry the grass with its warmth. “Better to have felt than to have never felt at all,” the Nightwind told itself sadly.  

Firm footfalls came closer and closer, and the wind glimpsed a cloaked figure making its way through the shadows that were slowly dissipating in the sunrise. Long golden hair hung from beneath the hood, and the head hung in the position of one who was - “Alone!”  

The wind swirled up from its dewy grave attempting to redeem itself one last time. He ruffled the edges of the dark cloak, caressing the drifting locks of hair. “And who are you,” it asked kindly, brushing at the dampness it felt upon the creature’s cheek.  

“Catherine,” it spoke softly, as it could not hear the wind. “Dearest Catherine.” 

It simply could not be. What luck, what chance! The Nightwind glanced at the horizon, alarmed at the depth of the glow of the sunrise. The sun itself would be peeking above the edge of the city soon, and his chance would be lost.  

“Go to her,” the Nightwind spoke firmly. “She waits for you. Go to her.” He carried the sound of the lovely woman speaking this name of Vincent and released the sound in the creature’s ear. 

“She will not be mine,” the Vincent creature whispered, pausing for a moment to glance up at the fading starry sky. “Dreams, that is all it will ever be. I shall always be alone.” 

“GO TO HER!” the Nightwind shrilled loudly, desperately stirring up a whirlwind around them. The leaves and dust swirled round Vincent, and he could have sworn that the night air spoke to him. A hopeful desire sprang up at the sound of the gale, something he could not explain. Something that he felt inside. He had to go to her.  He had to try.  

He turned and ran for the city. If he were fast enough, perhaps he could reach her before the sunrise bathed him in its revealing light.  

He leaped, he ran, he climbed, he jumped. The towering buildings of New York City held no restraint for him, and he finally landed softly on the surface of the lone balcony.  

“Vincent,” she spoke softly, turning from her night air reverie.  

“Dearest Catherine,” he called, just as quietly, and they rushed to embrace each other.  

“Why did you come,” she asked gently, looking up into the kind eyes that knew her like no other could.  

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I think I heard you call my name.” 

“Did you?” she asked. “How, you could not hear me from here.” 

“I think it was the wind,” he smiled, and they embraced again.  

“Ahem,” the sunray touched the blissful Nightwind’s shoulder and smiled. “Sorry, buddy, it's my turn.” 

“I relinquish the world to you, dear sun,” the Nightwind responded graciously. “My work is done.” 

He flew up the skyscraper, as the blinking eyes awoke for the day.  

“I say!” called the concrete surface, as the Nightwind swirled upward. “Did you find the answer to your question!” 

“Yes,” called the Nightwind, as he flew up into the atmosphere, leaving the world he knew behind.  

“Aloneness is not a feeling! It is an absence. You cannot be alone unless you know what it is to be loved. If you feel alone, you are searching for something you have lost. Go seek it, find it, in day or night, and once you do, never let it go, and you will never be alone again!” 

 

Remember this, when you feel alone, and the wind gently touches your face, that you are not alone anymore. There is a gentle stillness that sits with you, to comfort you, and make you feel as if there is an ear to listen. The Nightwind is still swirling through the leaves and the sky, searching for those who need a touch, or a whisper.  

So no one is ever truly alone.