Dada Terasa Ada Angin Novels & Stories

-GREY- The cold sharp wind squandered in from the open window, making me think of early Spring after a long harsh unending snow. Sadly, winter and spring doesn't exist in this tropical country. The wind, with its gentle touch, caressed my bare skin. Papers on my slender fingers danced with the wandering wind and it didn't take long enough for me to twitch my lips with an ample annoyance. Mr. William, which seemed to have been aware of my obvious annoyed face, fetched for the double glass window and shut it close without further delay.

I gave him a 'whatever' look and followed him to the terrace outside. On reaching the terrace, it was blowy a day, just as he had predicted earlier. I leaned against the railing, letting the wind brush past my hair. The wind greets concrete and skin just the same, yet I am blessed to feel it. Its giddy currents flow through woodland canopies, unaware of how its song soothes those who can hear. I have always thought of the wind as so free, chaotic even, yet it too has its path, even if there are infinite possible destinations. It is air with passion, a drive that powers onwards, every direction an option.

The winter storm raged on, the winds howling through the trees like anguished spirits. Then, cutting through the storm like a thread of silver, came the sound of a mandolin. Napatigil uli kami. "Ano nanaman 'yon?" I asked nervously. Ang daming tunog sa gubat na 'to. The melody was breathtaking, delicate yet haunting, as if it carried the weight of a forgotten past. Each note danced through the frozen air, weaving a spell around us. It was beautiful—too beautiful for a place like this.

The crowns of deciduous trees resembled fluffy green pompoms. The elemental flew smoothly, merging with its element, easily soaring on the air waves without experiencing any fatigue. The wind ruffled the blue-black mane, hit me hard on the chest and face, but now that the fear had passed, it seemed more warm, envelopingly pleasant, rather than cold and angry. After a while, I was surprised to realize that I was enjoying the flight.

What the Wind Left Behind Selena’s POV There was something different about the wind today. It didn’t whisper the same way. It didn’t bite like winter or drift like spring. It pressed itself against the windows of the lake house as though trying to speak not loudly, but insistently. A breeze that came with memory, not weather. As if the sky itself had been holding its breath since I walked away from Kieran’s world and had finally exhaled.

When I opened my eyes again, I looked down and stared at the ground. I watched some of the leaves of the trees rustle as the wind rushed through them. Then another gust of wind suddenly rushed past me and lifted the hair from my forehead. The hair felt cold and damp, almost wet. Another gust of wind blew past and it was blowing directly at me. The hair that was previously covering my forehead flew into my face and I reached up and tried to push them back, but they refused to leave.

When I was a kid and not a wreck of a person. Dara gave him a skeptical look, but when he waved at the porch, she headed toward the door. The air had a clean, fresh smell to it, the kind that rain always brought with it. Zane wished the storm could cleanse his brain the way it did the landscape. He took Dara's hand, feRafeng the fragility of the bones. It was a wonder the wind out on the bay hadn't just blown her away.

She stated. “Oh, Ok. What do I need to do?” “First, we are going to try air. I want you to close your eyes and imagine the wind blowing through your hair. Like when the windows are down in the car and your hair is whipping around.” I nod and close my eyes. Then I felt it. The soft caress of the wind on my skin in a gentle breeze. I heard Aunt Em squeal and I opened my eyes. “That was awesome. It looks like wind is your forte but I still want you to try the other three. Next, I want you to imagine rain coming down.”

My heart thumps frantically, adrenaline mixing with fear as I wipe off sweaty palms on my shirt. My eyelids twitch, breathing turning ragged when I feel a force from behind me. Black fog lifts from above me, a gust of wind blowing alongside, sweeping gravel and sand into the air so that it forms very small tornados. Loose curls dance to the pressure, blocking part of my vision, dust gathering in my nose. I barely blink when the fog clears completely, its replacement a bluish cloud that seems to blend into the ground like a backdrop.

Confusion clouded his mind as he tried to comprehend what had just transpired. A sudden rush of wind, swift and forceful, brushed past him from behind, causing Ronin to shudder involuntarily. It sent a chill down his spine, leaving him unnerved and unsettled. This eerie encounter with the wind carried an uncanny familiarity, as if he had known it intimately for an extended period. It was a puzzling sensation that left Ronin bewildered and captivated.