Inclusion
The wind brought me comfort as it passed through the trees. The familiar whistle that I had become accustomed to was as soothing as a lullaby. A single malt whisky to accompany a good read, I was secluded from the pressures of the outside world. I was at peace.
The nearest populace was at least a two-hour walk with a thicket so dense no vehicle could penetrate. I took great delight in my solitude. As I finished my whisky I contemplated another but decided to continue with my chapter. Captivated, my eyes could not leave the page. I was not disappointed by the climax, which was most rewarding.
Satisfied, I placed my book on the arm of the chair as I rose to please my thirst. As I poured the cool yet burning liquid into my glass, I noticed there was a disturbance in the wind. A dull unfamiliar moan.
Now, I am hardly one to startle easily. Regardless of how strange the noise may have seemed, I was too content to entertain it further. I returned to my leather chair and eased myself back into my book.
The noise was nothing but a memory that would have remained there had I not heard it again. This time it was louder, yet no more distinguishable.
I sipped at my drink, allowing the book to dangle in my hand. My eyes glanced towards the sole window the room had to offer. I could see nothing beyond the pale glass.
I put it from my mind and returned to my literature, but, I was once again interrupted by the same sound. Now, it was more vulgar and lingering. It begged for my attention.
Allowing curiosity to get the better of me, I lay my read down and approached the window with haste. The trees were mere shadows cut out from the darkness, scarcely lit by the moon. The wind sang, easing my tense psyche.
I turned from the window, took a drink and smiled. The moan returned with such volume that it drowned out the wind. I spun back towards the window and the noise ceased.
My heart was racing. I regained my composure, a little startled. I had grown too comfortable in my private Elysium that the wind began to trouble me.
How ignorant I was that I believed that I could conduct nature and expect it to stay silent for my convenience.
I laughed at my own arrogance but there it was again. Vociferous. Sustained. Gone. I took a large gulp from the glass, but it did little to ease my growing anxiety. I was undecided as to what to do, did I go back to my chair and ignore it, ascribe all concern to my probable inebriation? Or did I dare investigate further, go so far as to stick my head out the window?
Minutes seemed like hours as I contemplated my decision. I listened to the wind, shrieking now, waiting for that moan to return. I waited. Patiently I waited. Yet, it did not resurface.
I can’t say I was disappointed. With a slight air of triumphant glee, I raised my glass to my lips only to hear the cry once more. Thunderous, prolonged. Closer.
I felt an intrusion, a presence even. I downed the contents of my glass to assist my courage. I allowed it to fall to the floor and threw the window open with both hands. It swung open and the sound stopped. The wind was all that could I heard. I looked upon the trees, or at least I thought I did. I found it was more arduous to distinguish between their outlines from the dark canvas.
I stumbled backwards from the open window, daring the moan to return. When it did not, I closed the window and locked it shut. I turned my back and the sound returned. I clamped my hands to my ears but I could not block it out. I pressed my palms tighter, I could still hear it as it turned into a violent wail, becoming louder.
I ran to my bottle of whiskey and began to greedily guzzle at it, my eyes fixated on the window. The wind had now mixed with the shriek becoming a cacophony of nightmares as they struck both the pane and my soul. Louder, relentless and without mercy or compassion my senses were beaten. My spirit eviscerated. I screamed for it to cease, I pleaded with it to yield. On my knees, I begged for that which was unforgiving for clemency.
The window smashed open and covered me in the glass. The lights of the room extinguished, enveloping me in darkness. Desperately I threw the bottle at my intangible foe and allowed the gloom to claim me.
I awoke the next morning by the warmth of the sun. It poured radiantly through my broken window. I examined the glass that littered the floor before drawing my hand across my face. I carefully traced the small cuts that had formed, fingertips ran over dried blood.
Groggy and unsteady I rose to my feet. I stumbled over to my chair, grabbing it to steady my balance. Wearily, I pulled my watch from my shirt pocket. I had under fourteen hours until the sun would succumb to the night. Whatever was out there would return. I had failed at evading my past and vengeance had found me.
My fate was sealed. My demise was now inevitable. Carefully, I selected a book from my personal library, then I poured a large glass of whisky. I sat back in the chair. And waited.
