A Change In The Wind

• Bre Hague, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2013

Hidden amongst the swishing, swaying blades of grass, luscious vegetation and petite yet majestic tree trunks that towered either side of her, Alexandra crouched, waiting. Detached flower petals – whites, pinks, purples - meandered about her stagnant form in the gentle, subtle breeze. Bundles of grey clouds rolled in overhead threatening a wet afternoon, however Alexandra paid all this no notice. Young, agile and able-bodied, she was completely oblivious to the happenings around her, her attention solely devoted a hundred metres or so away.
There, directly ahead, Alexandra watching her family – her mum, her dad, sister and brother -, extended family, friends and even the family dog, huddle together in the chilly air. All dressed in an ensemble of blacks and greys, their tears made the afternoon wet enough without the sky’s contribution. Someone was speaking, their speech a mournful and melancholy tone. Nobody looked particularly riveted by the talking, their heads down and arms around each other. Alexandra pictured standing up, revealing herself to her family, all being forgiven and forgotten…
With a deep, shaky sigh she shut her eyes and remembered the day he first approached her, the day her life completely changed. It had seemed a lifetime ago, she felt so immature and small back then, those few months ago. He had approached her on campus, dressed with an air of superiority and obvious importance. He introduced himself and said a few vague words, then presented her with a choice. One that would change everything about her life, whether she accepted or denied.
That man had been a symbol for her, he represented everything a young adult ever dreamed about the world; a secure job, substantial paycheque, an exciting and adventurous life, and most of all, he was something different, something new, something mysterious. He had departed as abruptly as he’d arrived, without a word, leaving Alexandra with only a single slip of paper. A plain white business card with nothing on it besides a phone number and the government’s insignia. She remembered examining the car, her gaze fixed on the number, yet searching somewhere far, far away in the future.
The ensemble ahead of her began departing, and the rain, as if on cue, was finally released from the clutches of the clouds. Slowly, hesitantly, Alexandra rose, trying desperately to block out the cries and sobs of her family’s retreating figures. She wandered aimlessly through the yard, absently dodging the rows of cemented blocks. Gradually she made her way to where her loved ones had previously been gathered, watching the black cars disappear into the distance one by one. The reality of her choice began to sink in more and more with each car that drove away from her. Her family, her old life, seemed further and further away from her, like water escaping through her fingers.
Alexandra squatted down in front of one of the stone structures the party had congregated around, her eyes lingering over the words for a long time. She let her hands trace around the rough stone, around the numbers written there, and then finally to the letters down the bottom.
‘Well, it’s too late to go back now,’ she murmured to the changing wind, as she traced around, with a single, solemn tear, the letters of her own name engraved in the tombstone.