The Unseen

The morning greeted them with the omen of a new storm-not the descendent of the rain that showered yesterday-this was a force of its own source. The clouds obscured the morning lights into a dirty brown colour and the tension in the wind rising. For soulless entities, this was a blessing. For the idle ones, their plan is shifted for many mugs of coffee and an watch over the outside distress. For those with agendas, they can only curse.

Therefore she was singing.

The day projects her with no social duties. Her little prim apartment had all its lights switched off, except for the lifeless lamp with its dull glow on the table. Her house was still in the mess as yesterday, the little reckage the boundless wind has caused were never restored. The house wore its colours from the day before.

The front window was open with the curtains pulled aside. Outside some men were walking away in hasty steps to avoid the storm before they reach their venues. Some dogs barked and sought sanctuary under parked cars. The storm will put things upside down-it was predicted.

She knew by her sixth sense, it’s going to be much apprehensive than that. She’ll let the hopes dwindle.

Her humming touched the wind-a sonorous recitation of wordless charm. The girl always counted herself differently than all other human beings changing courses on the street below her. She was not like them. When they busied themselves in files and documents or even to brew a cup of coffee, she was out there seeking the darkness, for a shadow she can bring home.

She can see. She can hear. She can feel and touch and hurt. That was what divided her between all the speck of souls floating away in their mortal shell and her-her hollow self.

She turned back, walked in steady steps to the refrigerator and opened the door. Wammy was not sighted in there. But her better self knew better. She clutched at the shadow inside it and Wammy whinced. His slumber was devastated but his mother’s eyes bore even greater devastation.

“Your sleeping beyond the clock.” Her plain voice accussing. However the voice was still the same.

“Little children must not over sleep. It’s bad for health.” She lifted him up and sat him in front of the big open window.

“It is a beautiful day. A day of greater power.” She murmured in the same tone.

Wammy’s shaking eye balls stared outside-a day for restless wind. The day was too quite to stay still. He did what his instinct wanted of him. He howled.

“Cccchhhhhoooollllddd!”

The ominous howls filled the dense air inside the little apartment. For Wammy’s age, the howls were like coughs but the effort resonated soon enough. More howls joined the spree from near and far.

“More children” she commented indifferently.

“Cccooollllddd!” More robust voices were heard. The sheiks in the wind in accordance to the gurgling of the sky once made her weep. Just once. They were now music.

The wind took pace, tugging at her dirty almond colour hair, throwing them into tangles in the wind. She didn’t care. Her steel grey eyes were pondering on the scenes outside-that is if her mind ever ponders at all.

Her ears picked something.

“Tommy” she told the wind. The howls became sharper.

She turned on her feet and gracefully took her overcoat and slowly, in proper steps she buttoned the olive knee length coat and pulled the hoody over her head. She turned back at Wammy.

“Be a good child Wammy. I am going out to find your brother. He has been missing.” She told him in her usual tepid voice, her face a stranger under that hoodie.

Wammy’s ball like eyes stared more intently.

“Do not open the door unless it’s me. Stay in your room and play with your toys”

She looked at him before stepping out. “And don’t step out of the house.” She commanded without any emotion. “There will be punishments if you do.”