THE BOOK ON LIVING (SHORT STORY COLLECTION)

Large opal-coloured waves brushed over the jagged rocks below. The night sky surrounded her, and glittering stars flickered above her. Or so it looked. Twenty-three-year-old Anna Grayson stood on the rocky edge of the sandstone cliff, in nothing but a white nightgown stating the number 107. Her snow-white hair whipped around her oval face. Anna bent over the edge as if to test her fear and her judgement. A burst of wind pushed her backwards, whispering quiet words of fury. In a burst of emotion, Anna slipped to her knees, placing her hands over her tear-drop eyes and wiped her diamond-coloured tears away.

“Anna, be careful!” A voice yelled from behind her.

“Leave me be!” she cried.

Dom pulled Anna from the rocky ledge of the cliff. He wrapped his muscular arms around her, breathing rapidly from the moment of panic. He had been so close to losing her a moment longer, and she could have jumped. She would have been lost forever.

Anna stared at her thin self in the black-framed square mirror. She gazed into her reflection, a set of tear-shaped eyes with smokey pupils sadly returned her gaze. Anna’s winter-snow-coloured hair lay lifelessly on her breasts. Covering the bruises if her nightgown failed to do the job. The small cell they had given her to live in is a simple setup. A small foam bed, a sink, a simple toilet. There is a small vase of dusty fake flowers on her desk. A packet of pastel crayons and a ream of A4 white paper. The only time she left this cell, which soon became a haven, is when they trained her, used her powers, or when a guard needed her.

Anna’s parents had left at the rotting wooden doors of Pantea Orphanage at three. The head-teacher found her in nothing but overalls and red-teary eyes. At five, Anna learned she differed from the other kids her age. No one else spoke to the wind like she did. On her seventh birthday Anna met the thin built, black spikey haired Dom. Maybe it was his calming green eyes that won her heart, maybe it was his ability to protect her. Whatever it had been, Dom had changed her dull life to one of hope. His parents crashed and left him orphaned, the darkest of times until he had met Anna.

Their tender moment came to an abrupt end in the third year of their friendship. At sixteen, they ripped Anna from the orphanage, from Dom, from all things she knew. The headteacher had gained a penny or more from selling Anna and her gifts. The ability to speak and control the wind. He watched on with a wicked smile while Dom tried to pull her back to him. Ten years and not a word is heard from Anna. The government kept in a small cell, day-in, day out.

At twenty-six Anna escaped. No longer is she the same as she was. Anna is nothing but a mere shell of who she was. The abuse, the controlling tactics, and the forceful loss of her innocence made her a ball of manic darkness. Even the wind only whispers its thoughts these days. Even now, Dom searched for her, for one little sign that she was still alive. A single source spoke a single sentence on a private number. That moment took Dom on an adventure. He bent fences, cut locks and found her empty cell. Falling to his knees as he knew just how close he had been.

A single drawing lay on her foam bed, the coloured painting of a cliff, an ocean and a setting sun in pastel colours. The clue, the hint, the key she had left. He knew where she headed, and he knew time is ticking. He ran, jumped and squeezed through the places he had just been. His heart pounded. He felt her. He felt the wind whisk him forward. And suddenly, there she is. On the edge, the nightgown fluttered around her. Salty waters call to take her, the wind fighting to keep her. The sun was setting, and Dom panicked. The light of his life is standing on the cliff, and he yelled at her. Then she turned around. And he knew, he knew, they would get through it. And she hoped, with every bone, that she would. She curled into his arms, felt his rapid heartbeat. Cried her sad tears and laughed at how perfectly he timed it.

At this moment, they both gazed over the opal waters. They looked into each other’s eyes briefly and then once again admired the sunset, only this time they recited their childhood poems they once wrote for each other. The poems about freedom, their will and their love. The difference is this time; it had all come true. Despite the past, despite Anna’s dark few years. They wanted to make it happen and make a future, but only if they are together. They both remained, the hope in each other and the light in one another’s eyes.