Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Hi hi! I've decided to start posting a story that I'm writing for Lazarus, and I thought that the rest of gaia might like to read! So, gaia, enjoy!

Wind. Warm and brisk and violent and barely there wind. Not seen. Not felt or heard, but could be heard if you paid close enough attention. No, not see or hear or feel. Maybe taste if something floats on the air, but not tasting the wind. More of tasting the thing, not the wind. But smell. Can smell the air. Could always smell the air, and whether it was good for flying. Safe or dangerous or almost both. Clear day or cloudy or storm good or storm bad. Always smelling the wind. Wind says where it's going and where it came from, too. Always can tell where you're going. Never lost, never afraid. Bigger things are afraid-making things, eat-you things, but can fly above those. Stay on wind, stay safe, stay not lost. Never stay at "home". Always make new home, find new place, better place. Keeps us alert. Keep track of seasons with wind's help. Move fast. Always better to move on. Never stay, or the Bigger things will find us, find ways to hurt us, eat us. Much better to be always travel, never "settle down". Always move, always alert, and always smell the wind.
"Adrian!"
Adrian's head snapped up, a small bit of drool still dribbling down her chin. She blinked wearily. "Mmm?"
"I do not believe class is over yet, young lady. Now please, pay attention!" The stuffy English teacher glared down at Adrian, carefully calculating her appearence for the up-teenth time. Her cold eyes took in the untamed masses of black waved hair to the claw-like fingernails to the golden yellow eyes and back again. "Hmph," The teacher sniffed once, straightened her glasses, and turned back to the board, where notes were beginning to form.
"Now as I was saying, before Ms. Adrian's snoring rudely interrupted us, Cornell notes are an effective and useful way of..."
Adrian let her mind wander. The teachers here had always looked at her like dirt, giving her D's and F's without giving her a fighting chance. She had eventually given up on getting by in school. Nothing her mother tried to beat into her was going to make the teachers stop hating her.
Again Adrian looked out the window. The tree outside was in full bloom, and the birds had returned for spring. Adrian wished to be out there with them, singing little songs that no one understands but them, drifting on the currents of the wind, smelling the air and finding a new home for the seasons. But here she was, sitting in an English class, failing once again another year of high school, not even allowed to go to the bathroom without an escort. Her mother made sure of that.
Adrian's mother hated Adrian. Always had. Adrian knew why, of course, but prefered to think of her "abnormalities" as a gift rather than a curse. Because her "abnormalities" were nothing easy to accept.