Stories About The Wind の小説・ストーリー

This wasn’t like the movies, this was fucking reality and I might end up shooting myself in the face, or worse — end up mistakenly shooting Chris, if I tried using a gun in a situation like this, for the first time. The ground suddenly vibrated as a loud, ear-shattering sound went off, leaving my mouth hanging open and my heart jumping into my mouth in fright. My ears rang loudly for long seconds as I struggled to get a firm grip on my surroundings. The ground still rumbled and the air smelled of sulfur. Like I just stepped into hell. My mind grasped onto the tiny thread of thoughts that made sense now, wasn't that the bomb that Chris and I abandoned? What the fuck did I unknowingly get myse

The wind grew stronger by the second, making it difficult to continue driving. Liam lifted his gaze and spotted a grand hotel nearby, its towering structure imposing against the darkening sky. Without hesitation, Liam and Elena stepped out of the car, braving the fierce winds as they made their way toward the hotel. The wind howled and whipped around them, sending debris flying and forcing them to cling to each other tightly. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the safety of the hotel's entrance, relieved to have escaped the ferocious storm.

So he had to think quickly and salvage the situation. The first time this wind swept through them, one of them was whisked away before Dike figured out that if they hold onto themselves that no harm would come to any harm. So whenever they hear the sound of the wind, blowing like a mighty tempest coming back towards them, they’ll stop and hold onto themselves firmly till it passes away, and then they’ll continue their journey till the tempest begins to return, then they’ll hold themselves firmly till it passes. This they kept doing till they crossed through that land losing just one more warrior.

"In the past, There was someone who loved you for a long time But yet, Wind gradually, Blows the distance far apart." "It's not easy. Once again, be able to love a day more. But at the end of the story, it seems like you still said bye-bye." Will they also say goodbye at the end of their story? ****** Back of the story

“A piece of me, in his hands, and he walks like it’s nothing.” The wind swirled one last time. It was so playful yet knowing, whispering secrets to the city that only it could understand. “I'd keep my Windax with you for a little bit longer.”

Suit pouted childishly at Anderson, and continued, “Do we have a deal, Mr. Anderson?” Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive ten stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation.

Ivy narrowed her eyes slightly and went back to the work that lay in front of her. Her life had already moved far ahead, much like a feather being carried in the wind.

As the winds settled, Xienma, Xavier, and Cassie felt the exhilarating pull of Zephyr's power coursing through them. The tempest that had roared only moments before had transformed into a gentle breeze that caressed their skin, a testament to their newfound bond with the Wind Spirit. Yet, while they reveled in their victory, a heavy sense of foreboding began to creep into the air. Xienma turned, her senses heightening as she scanned the horizon. The once-clear skies now bore dark shadows, swirling ominously above the peaks of Stormpeak Mountain. “Do you see that?” she whispered, her voice laced with unease.

The third night after the siege, the wind shifted. It wasn’t the usual howling breath of the storm, nor the bitter bite of war’s fury. This wind came quietly, rolling in from the north with a chill so ancient it seemed to suck warmth from the very air itself. It was a wind older than memory, older than the stones of Emberhold. It whispered of things forgotten, things better left undisturbed.

My dad even told Vincent that he had to bring me back, or he would beat Vincent to death. However, none of that had anything to do with me anymore. Standing up, I looked out the window at the vast white field of snow. I couldn't care less how they were doing now. I only cared that it was snowing. I could invite Madison to go skiing with me. Why waste time mourning the past when I was heading toward a beautiful future?