Abigale, a short story

Abigale

The girl walked happily beside the road, a small spring in her step, looking first down at her feet then up at her umbrella and sideways to the larger hand that was holding hers. She grinned and continued looking around. That hand made her feel safe and secure, the surety of its grip keeping her from wondering what was up ahead, round the corner, just out of sight. She didn’t need to think about that, because when she was holding onto that hand she could walk onwards with all the confidence she had. Everything was fine, until the gust of wind caught under her umbrella and rattled it violently in her grip. Wrestling the errant brolly back under control with one hand (because she didn’t want to let go with the other hand), she looked up in irritation and stuck out her bottom lip. That naughty wind was causing mischief again!

She shouted at the wind to go away and play hide and seek. A rumble of laughter from above became audible when, to her surprise, the wind did die down.

“Well done, it seems that you’re the wind whisperer,” chuckled her dad. She smiled at that. She didn’t think she could really talk to the wind. Could she?

When it blew again, she thought it was worth another try. She screeched again, really telling the wind off this time, and once again it retreated. Perhaps she could control it?

For a while, they walked on in silence, both at ease, their umbrellas unshaken and keeping the drizzle off their heads.

“Where do you think the wind is hiding now?” asked dad.

Silly old dad, you couldn’t see wind. Surely he knew that?

“Watch out, it might be hiding round that corner,” he continued.

Now he really was joking, she knew that was a silly thing to say, until they walked round the corner and were suddenly buffeted by a tremendous gust! Cheeky wind! The girl stamped her foot this time as she shouted at the wind to calm down and hide again, but this time it didn’t seem to work.

“The wind must be seeking us,” suggested dad, “so perhaps we’re the ones who are supposed to be hiding?”

That did make some sort of sense, but why wasn’t the wind listening to her now? They hadn’t finished seeking the wind, it wasn’t allowed to change turns until she said. She thought the wind had been listening, but now it wasn’t doing what it was told. That wasn’t fair!

“No, it isn’t fair,” said dad. “But it does sound familiar. Can you think of anyone else that sometimes listens and then suddenly doesn’t do what she’s told?”

The girl shook her head with a lopsided grin. She wasn’t about to admit it.

Dad grinned and said, “Do you know they name storms? Perhaps we should name this cheeky wind?”

She smiled and nodded at that idea. But what should they call it?

“How about Abigale?” he said with a chuckle as they rounded the corner, their destination in sight.