Black Wind (an olderish short fiction piece)

Black Wind

From the Black Sea came the cold hellish wind that took my brother. It screamed and cried for two days and nights without ceasing. Wakening on the second morning, we found him bloodied and dying in the corner.

Father had fastened the oak shutters over the French windows when the tell-tale moaning of breeze in the eaves started. Now he nailed large timbers taken from the floor in the master bedroom across the windows and entrance door. There was a somber darkness in the Great Hall where I cowered in a corner, casting fearful glances everywhere. The sixteen-candle chandelier could not dissipate shadows.

I huddled in the comfort of Mother's bosom and tried to block out the hungry wind and Father's ominous foresight. "Remember my prediction. Before the dawning, this one will be gone too."

I fell into a restless nightmare scarred sleep but was woken from a harsh jerk and even harsher words. Father stood over me grasping a wicked looking knife. Flames’ reflections gleamed and danced upon the blade and his feverish eyes. "Let me send the boy to the Black Wind so that the rest may see the morning."