Short Little Stories

A wind blew across the quad in the midmorning sun. Invisible and silent, it moved with speed and grace.

Past a young lass it went, a chilling breeze in the summer’s heat. A smile it glimpsed and then ’twas off again.

Across a concrete path it blew, grabbing loose paper, twirling it through the air once, twice, and again. The paper lifted higher than it had ever been… then fell back down to base earth once again.

Across the grass it trailed, through the trees it soared. The wind blew heavy… and then, as stilled the air, it was no more.

The wind’s existence had been short. In that time, however, it had not been unhappy.

Some would say that this is due to the fact that it was wind, and nothing more. It had no sentience, no awareness. It was a nonbeing, and such a state as unhappiness could not be attributed to a mere aspect of nature.

And this was true.

But there are those who would say it had led a fulfilling existence. It had left is mark upon the world – a smile, an upturned paper, a ruffled pair of branches. That is more than many can claim, to have left a mark in such a short time. And so, having fulfilled its purpose, it could cease to be without regrets or sorry, despite its nature.

And this… was also true.