There was a specific story that always floated around the community. It wasn't world-wide like Jack Frost or Sandman, this story originated in this little town and no further.
The town was small and somewhere floating into the countryside, barely counting as a part of England. It was in this town that the rumors started. Rumors turned to stories and stories turned to fables. Every child experiences the same feeling when one particular fable crosses their parents' lips. Just the same, every child feels the splinter of hesitation over whether this fable was truly just make-believe or if it held even a speckle of truth. The underlying seriousness in their parents voices slowly convinced them to follow those rules the fable put into mind and always, always, pass it on.
There once was a girl with the universe in her eyes, milky ways filtered in an out of her irises like flames danced in the wind with stars that could easily be mistaken for sparks of mischief. She never spoke, never uttered a word or anything with a semblance. It seemed the best she could do was create a quiet whistling sound that made the birds chirp and tweet, almost like they were talking. Her hair was like a black hole; dark and alluring, enough so that if you stared for too long you'd feel as though it was trying to bring you in, to hold you in its clutches. Bathing in layers and layers of shadows that didn't scream of danger, rather of comfort and reassurance. It didn't help that there was so much of it, often the only thing you could see was wide eyes peeking out of the blackness with a look so entrancing that for the contact to be broken felt like a crime. Skin ghostly pale, whispering memories of snowy days and rainy nights under the covers and frosted breath weaving through the air like a last goodbye.
No one knew her parents, or where she came from. You'd have an easier time explaining an aurora borealis to a blind person.
It seemed from how quietly she slipped into the lives of everyone in town, it was almost as though she was always there, waiting, watching.
If anyone paid any attention to the wind, one might start to think that it had feelings. Mood swings and a temper to be reckoned with, but always there. If the wind could twist itself into a being and walk through the streets as though they had, for many generations, walked those roads and skipped the cracks, caressing flowers surviving on only what nature had given it and resting on the old windowsill of a widow that had always had bad sight, which only seemed to get worse with age. Some people described the wind as a man, with big bulging muscles and a long flowing beard that twisted the strings of fate, curled the winds between his fingers, forged havoc through hurricanes and tornadoes creating lines through towns and villages like a child dragging their finger through the sandpit, drawing a design only they could understand. Drawings that linked together and created stories of beings who brought ice and frost wherever they went, fire that could never be put out lest they die, seas that could bury continents until they were nothing more than whispers that fall on deaf ears.
Many also see the wind as a woman, beautiful as they can be with hair that floats instead of sways and a smile that carries your worries away for another night. The fresh moment of relief on a hot summer's day. The curls and silent laughter as it messes up the hair you spent hours putting together and pulling invisible strings on leaves to make them dance like it was what they were made for. Of a woman that sees the pain and heartbreak you go through, that always goes unnoticed and underappreciated. Of a woman who watches with sad eyes as you grow red in the face with eyes swimming in pools of hatred over that one guy you liked who asked out some girl you never saw before, as you quietly sit in the shadows of your own room, heart squeezing and shuddering so hard you feel winded, breathless, as you wonder… why her and not me? The woman who sits beside you and dries your tears, fills your lungs with air so crisp and clean you feel it enter your bloodstream, swirl throughout your body and for a moment, just a moment, you feel weightless.
This was the presence the child became throughout her days in the town. The excitement everyone felt then breathed a time of radiance, the whole town seemed to be rejuvenated. All from the appearance of a girl no one could explain.
When the day came, that a bystander saw the girl enter the forest, that the town borders. And disappear. A panic overcame the people. The town could only be described as deserted that night, as everyone who didn't have mouths to feed were in search parties, looking for the girl that had captured their hearts with a single look. The townspeople searched day and night for weeks, however, as the days flew by, so did their hope. Soon the only evidence of nights spent in the maze-like forest and hours of calling and screaming were the bags and droopy eyelids, the way no one talked as much as they could for days to allow their throats to heal.
The town had dulled down once again into its dreary state from whence the girl had revived them from. Over time, the adults called themselves silly, for relying on a girl they didn't know to bring them happiness and soon they all came to a mutual decision.
Any word of the girl would be silenced.
Instead, warnings of the forest circled through bedtime stories to warn their children, though should they question the story's relevance, they'd be written off as old fables; fairy tales.
Though the look in their eyes as they spoke of the one particular tale left an imprint on the receiving child's mind, as a story they would never forget. Many dreamed of times where it happened and would suggest to the parents that they go out and find the girl, be the ones that brought the light back into the town. All they'd get in reply would be a soft shush, that put their suggestions up into a shelf of dreams never to be acted upon.
Since then, everyone who lived in the town believed that if you entered the forest uninvited, then you go missing. Just like the girl who became the light of their world. Newcomers would be informed through whispers that the remains of wind would carry into the sky, the power it once held merely a fragment of what it had once been.
Authors note: Hey, this is my first fanfic on here, I hope it is recieved well. Feedback is appreciated :)