Another Novel.

Now I know how you all LOVE stuff that I write outside of my blog, so to fill in the space of a post, today I'm going to show to you my unfinished Chapter 1 of my un-named novel. Here ya go!

Chapter 1

A Greeting

It was in Chicago, where the wind gently blew from house to house, apartment to apartment. Flowing through the leaves like silk in water, brushing the hair of children at play. A leaf gently landed on a tiny shoe and a child giggled and picked it up. A feather fell from a bird overhead, which then landed in front of a dog, who sniffed it and moved on. A car passed. Wind. A child threw a mixture of grass and dirt at another. Wind. It was infinite in one of the only slightly happy neighborhoods in Chicago. It searched.

The wind searched nature and its making for a boy, a boy in ragged clothes, so as to soak his short matted hair in a cold wind. It searched through the tall blades of grass and the lawn mowers cutting it, it slivered through the gravel and the cars driving on it. It searched and finally, rested upon the boy, chilling him to the bone until it moved on to search some more, to leave the boy silently listening to a fizzing radio and feeling the now uncovered sun to shine upon his body.

There, in a fenced back yard, a teenage boy no older than fifteen lay. He was covered in a shade down to his neck, revealing his clothed body to the sun. The wind visited its previous victim again, weaving in and out of his holed, baggy black jeans, and washing over his favorite red hoodie. There he lay, pondering that specific feeling, the feeling of nature taking his body and making it pure for just a few moments, and then leaving him to listen intently to a radio.

The wind looked beside him for another acquaintance, although not a human. It stared at what appeared to be a ball of fur, which then had been content, sleeping next to its owner. The wind darted behind it and struck it violently, opening its eyes ever so slightly to wake it up. It closed its eyes again, opened them, and stood up as the wind struck it again. The dog walked past the fizzing radio and continued inside, safe from the hateful wind, which gave up to search for a new victim. To the people of Chicago, the wind was their companion, their mentor and their enemy. It hated and it loved, it searched for people content enough to feel it grasp them tightly and have them embrace the feeling for only a moment.

Parents had no time for this. The experienced ones didn’t. They knew full well that the wind was a vicious competitor, violent and frightening. They knew that upon moving there, the wind met them and their family with a strike of cold non-evadable air particles, all of which then took to their new victims and crawled underneath their clothes, tickled their skin, and forced them into their new home. The wind treated the adults uniquely.

Allison Fandell certainly did not have time for enjoying the sunshine. She was pacing around her new apartment in Chicago, opening this box and seeing what’s inside it, giving up on setting that object up, and opening another box. Her beautiful leather black couch, wrinkled and full of memory, lying there hopeless in front of a crooked television was not at all in the right place. The precious 7-doored desk that was scratched everywhere except in a square in the middle for her laptop, was shoved violently in a corner and left there for her to deal with. The kitchen table, her bed, her clothes, all of the depressing and delightful colorful decorations, the microwave, this, that, her mind, were all in the wrong place. The dog had no place to sleep. Ashton, so it semed, had to sleep on the couch the first night in town, and there was no dryer and no washer for her sheets and what-she-thought-was-beautiful tight jeans. A 38-year-old now-single parent shouldn’t have to deal with this after what happened, she thought. She plopped on her couch, rested her head, called out to her only son about nine times before falling into a light dreamless sleep inside a tiny crowded apartment to a fizzing radio.

But in the outside air, children familiar to the wind could feel the colorful golden leaves falling down on them from an oak tree, followed by an acorn dropped by a squirrel. The creatures were lured to children by their food, creating a bond of trust between unknowing children and skinny, furry, cuddly, and deadly squirrels. The ants kept their homes safe and occasionally, wind blew their food towards the children, creating another bond of trust. The wind had a kingdom, and it created the flows of love and trust, and struck upon hatred. It was unfair to unfair animals, joyous around loved ones, glad to sink into the ground and rest underneath a black sky, or create ghosts for those who needed them. In retrospect, everything happened according to plan for the wind. When there was no wind, there was no emotion, no life in Chicago. But there was never not any wind. Even when you couldn’t feel it, it existed in you from your feet up. Newcomers knew this. And in the sun a newcomer lay, listening to a fizzing radio.

The boy, however, was by then fast asleep. The wind happened upon him a final time, seeing him deeply breathing, dreaming about it. So it moved on. And so did he, sleeping through the yelling of his mother, the barking of his dog, sleeping through the sun being covered and uncovering by the clouds. There he lay, content in his new home that was Chicago. The wind welcomed him with a hug.

Hoped you enjoyed it. I'm writing this farewell before I put in the double-spacedness, so you can all see my say my goodbyes without it being annoyingly double spaced and indented. Hope you enjoyed it the unfinished first chapter! *lick lick, salute!*

Always yours,

-Alex

PS- Is Chicago even windy?

PSS- I'm also entering this for a contest, so if anyone steals this, it will be considered pr... prof... no... That word where it's illegal to copy speeches and novels and stuff. So yah. Can't steal this time, sorry.