This story is for young teens and up.
This story uses anthropomorphism. Literature is full of this technique. What other stories do you know that contain non-living or non-human characters? I recently read Olivetti by Allie Millington, which I highly recommend!
While it contains rhyme and meter, this story is purposely written in paragraph
form. Read it as if written in normal sentences and don't try to force
it into poetry. I did not start out with the idea to write this story this way. A common thing you hear from writers is that the story decided how it would be written. This is very much true.
What other life experiences or wishes could I have included in Zephyr's grants to the little girl? Why might I have chosen not to name any of the people? What questions do you have about this story?
A Zephyr Tale
Early afternoon on a seaside hill, daisies and lupines standing still.
Summer heat rises toward noon, families settling for lunch soon. A
zephyr is born, begins to stir, brushes the cheek of a little girl. "It's
time to eat," daddy calls his child, "Put down your flowers and take a
seat." She picks one last one, and another, then under daddy's watch
is reluctantly done.
Little girl tosses her flowers down, jumps over stones, all on her own.
Zephyr follows with gentle air, matching its new friend's independent flair.
Ruffles the dress of the skipping child, better watch out, Daddy, this one is
wild. The little wind whispers into her ear, "Listen to daddy, you'll have
nothing to fear." Then wishes the daddy all its best, looks for something to
borrow, but leaves the rest.
Zephyr grabs a napkin from the picnic lunch, lifts one up but not the bunch.
It needs just this, just one small token to start the wish. A zephyr knows this
job by heart, how to plan, its secret part. Toward the nearby little park, where
they'll next go to play, Zephyr brings the napkin and lets it lay. Not to worry
the napkin will be found, what matters is the future, one that will pass along
this ground.
In the park a pinwheel suddenly spins, dizzy with childhood games and
grins. This little breeze unseen, joins the fun just as keen. Wishes a girl a life
of fun, friendships and laughter, joy and hearts to be won. The zephyr weaves
through slides, dips under swings, and knows the good life that play brings.
Some day a young girl will be here, to dance, to sing, to catch the goodwill
a gentle breeze brought near.
Over at the schoolhouse a flag flutters, in a room where Zephyr's child
will someday study. Books and lessons galore, errors and corrections and
more. A wish for learning is deeply inspired, all the best teachers found
and hired. Zephyr whispers his scholar's name, will watch her grow, she
will learn the things she needs to know. Papers rustle to the floor as a little
breeze heads to the door.
Zephyr meanders through the seaside town, senses another wish that
must be set down. It rings the chimes on a door of a shop, searching around
and doesn't stop. And there it is a scent so sweet, daddy's favorite perfume,
on a lady so pretty, kind, and neat. She feels a wind upon her cheek, is sure
there is someone she must seek. Our girl and her daddy have each other, as a
bonus Zephyr has found our young girl a new mother.
Happy and content and feeling free, the breeze picks up a slight speed.
Down to the beach it goes, under umbrellas, tickling toes. Good health cannot
be forgotten, nor rest and relaxation unto those best begotten. Fresh air and
sunshine, shovels and castles, splashing and dashing, as the tide measures time.
Zephyr lifts a kite forever it seems, carries skyward the girl's hopes and dreams.
Even the wind knows when to let go, leaves the kite as it drifts down low.
The ocean is a place to reflect, the horizon calls our hearts to inspect. Zephyr
looks out to sea, wishes wisdom for this tale's small family. The soft breeze is
welcome on the hot sands, but bigger winds will sail the boats to other lands.
Somber or thrill, serenity or courage, the difference is knowledge, and a girl's
will is the wind's will.
Zephyr spies a church made of stone, heads back to town but not alone. It
tosses the hair of a quiet young boy, is now ready for this part of the story. They
both quietly go inside, with hushed steps of respect for those who have died.
Zephyr whispers into his ear, "I know a girl you will hold so dear. She will heal
your heart in a place that's near." It lifts the tie of the little boy kind and true, a
perfect match for when the time is due.
There is so much more of life to live, so much more to wish and give. Our little
breeze prances on, looking for treasures to grant upon. The feathers of chickens, the
tail of a dog, blankets on clotheslines, and rain in the fog. Smoke in a chimney, letters
to send, the steam of a stew, and clothes to mend. The sounds of children and years
that fly, Zephyr grants them all and more to the girl and boy, with nothing at all left by.
A little wind is but a gentle breeze, barely felt and never seen. It is hardly felt
upon your skin, but do not ignore it among life's din. Wishes and dreams are light
as air, zephyrs are too and almost always there. Perhaps one will take hold of
something yours, fall in love like ships to shores. Take note of the tiniest breeze
passing along, love neither can be seen, but believe it can be just as strong.
Zephyr sweeps up a hill, bends down the grass and is suddenly still. Ahead there
is a graveyard scene, with wildflowers growing, precious and serene. Several of our
story's beloved will rest here, deep and covered. Zephyr stirs a bit once again, with
wishes for peace, to finish the plan. All stories must end and so must this, no matter
the sorrow or the bliss.
Past the graveyard the dying little wind blows, toward picnickers heading down
in rows. With baskets and lunchboxes and packs, sunhats and children upon their
backs. Zephyr searches for its young friend and her daddy, but can no longer go on,
sadly. It watches from afar as it scarcely sways. "I love you," the zephyr calls but
here it must stay.
"Wait!" calls a child we know, "I need my flowers before we go." Back up the
hill she skips, daddy follows tries not to slip. Back to the spot, the stones jumped
over, the flowers tossed down, resting in clover. Zephyr reaches up, brushes her
cheek, ruffles her dress and tries to speak. It has no words, it's just a breeze, can
not grant wishes, love or weep.
Zephyr watches as she turns away, rests on the ground to finally lay. Then
suddenly she glances with a thought, "Daddy, I felt a breeze," she says and again
she turns to leave. "Let's go to the park," the daddy says, and Zephyr's end is
not so dark. Into each day the wind may blow, when and where we never know.
Daisies and lupines standing still, late afternoon on a seaside hill.
