Page 13 of The Elementalist
I laughed and was about to answer, when I noticed a man at the far end of the counter staring at me. He had Hollywood hair and wore a leather jacket. Late June was way too warm for a leather jacket. Over the years, I’d seen him around town here and there, although we never spoke. Small towns were like that. You could see some people nearly every day and never speak to them once in years. Most people who lived in bigger cities thought all small town folk know each other. Sure, we might recognize each other, and we might even nod and say hello, but we certainly don’t know everyone’s business. Anyway, I wasn’t casually friendly with this guy, although I saw him often enough... and usually at night. At the bars, in fact, of which Shadow Pines had about five or six. Anyway, you would think if you’d seen someone a few dozen times, you would eventually nod or say hi. But this guy never gave me an opening, and years ago, I’d quit looking for one. Who he was, I hadn’t a clue. What he did for a living, I didn’t know that either. But he had nice hair.
It stood out to me at the moment that the guy had taken a sudden keen interest in me; in fact, I caught him looking over at us two or three times. Perhaps most interesting, the blowing wind didn’t seem to bother him, unlike everyone else in the cafe, who all still looked around and chattered excitedly about the bizarre wind.
As if my being able to summon wind hadn’t been the weirdest thing I experienced, I had the distinct impression that despite him sitting all the way at the far end of the bar, he somehow listened to us.
Impossible, I knew. Then again, so was controlling the wind.
“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s walk, I’ll tell you outside.”
“Yeah, no shit. This place is a mess anyway.”
I laughed, and left some money on the table.
On the way out, stepping over some broken glass, I discreetly shoved a few twenties in the tip jar on the bar, which was presently being tended to by a befuddled Reggie Smith, owner of the Pine Stump Cafe.
Chapter Seven
The Internet Has Everything
I spent a good long while pacing around my apartment.
Ron had gone home, probably to drink the night away. Truth was, I felt like finishing a bottle or two myself. Except getting drunk wouldn’t make this problem go away.
Wasit a problem?
“Yes,” I said to no one. “It was.”
Then again, I thought, as I wandered aimlessly in front of my worn-out couch, it was kind of fun to see Ron’s surprise. And to see the reactions of everyone in the cafe. Except for the one bloke who didn’t much react at all.
Fun or not, something very weird was going on. Yes, I lived in Shadow Pines where the bizarre had become commonplace, but I had always seemed to exist outside of all that... drama. On the fringe of weird, not immersed in it. My life had always been decidedlynot weird, and I liked it that way. No, I preferred it that way.
I raised my upturned palm and a swirling gust of wind circled my simple dwelling.
“Welcome to Weirdsville,” I said.
I took in some air, held it, and paused on my way into the kitchen and that first of many beers. “Why wind?” I ask myself out of the blue. “I mean, what was the deal with that?”
For an answer, I did the only thing I could think of.
I fired up my laptop.
***
I poked around on the Internet for a bit and stumbled across various chatrooms with people claiming to control the wind with their mind. I mean... really? That’s a thing? And who was I to say otherwise?
I pinched myself again, for the dozenth time.
Not dreaming. Unless I dreamed I pinched myself.
I read many of their experiences, but none sounded like mine, or how I went about controlling the wind with my upturned palms and intention. As an experiment, I focused on creating the wind in my mind only, and mustered a slight breeze. Hardly anything at all, actually. But the moment I brought my upturned palms into play—whammo—a burst of wind blew the dining table chair over next to me.
More digging, more reading. I ended up in the ‘strange shit’ section of YouTube. I watched a lot of people standing around fields, ‘controlling’ the wind with their minds, pointing to swaying tree branches as evidence.
After some more online searching, I headed to Amazon and settled on a book calledThe Elementals: Earth, Wind, Fire and Water.
Elementals. It was a word I’d come across a number of times now in the last hour of being on the net. I waited for it to download to my Kindle, then settled into a nook on my battered and abused couch... and read until my eyes hurt.
According to the book, Elementals were four nature spirits that embodied the elements of antiquity. The embodiments—or incarnations—of these elements took on the characteristics of the elements. In fact, Shakespeare’sThe Tempestwas about a wind Elemental who aided the main character. According to legend, Elementals, often under the guidance of archangels, were responsible for creating, renewing, protecting and sustaining life.
