Do you ever think about how many people you’ve met in your lifetime? Ho many faces have you seen? Has it reached a thousand? Ten thousand, hundred thousand? Perhaps a million people’s faces have passed through your line of vision. Do you ever think about how many emotions you’ve felt in your lifetime? What variation of emotions have you felt? Anger, happiness, sadness, excitement, disappointment? Rapid surges of emotion that play on your face that you can never really see except through the reflection of a mirror.
It was trying to move me, the gust shifted my mood as it passed, rustling the leave. When I lifted my eyes to the horizon I wanted my mood pull me higher into the mists, I wanted to walk and see distant hills and far horizons. But the attempt to ameliorate my humour was poor and frail, it failed and I hunkered down into my thick coat. The weather was not going to aid me, I would have to string myself along on the promise of warmth and sunshine tomorrow or some time next week.
A gust of wind went flying thought the tree tops, shaking the trees into a forced dance. Limb broke off, tumbling to the ground in great numbers.
Kirstien
The gust of wind picked up the back of Donna’s skirt just as she was leaning, arms full, into the trunk of her car. Mothers covered their children’s (and husbands’) eyes while Marie — who really should have made haste to come to Donna’s rescue — did nothing but laugh helplessly. “Perhaps you should think about wearing underpants the next time you’ve got on such a short, flouncy skirt,” she giggled, finally collecting herself enough to smooth the fabric back down over Donna’s bare bum.
Miss McVicor whipped around the assembly hall like a sandstorm, sizing up each girl from headband to sports socks, scrutinising their faces for any trace of makeup and measuring the length of their skirts, which must land strictly two inches above the knee. She moved quickly for someone so stout. She liked to take you by surprise. When she had been once around the entire perimeter of the room I started to breathe easy. A mistake. She moved to the centre of the hall, quiet and still, in the eye of the storm. She smoothed down the unruly gray hairs in her Germanic bob and turned very slowly towards me. Then in a fresh gust of fury she launched herself at me and my ridiculous orange hair.
Candace sighed, wishing she’d put on more than the worn, faded denim jacket before abruptly leaving the studio. A short gust of wind blew through her brown hair and she shivered, goosebumps pricking her plump arms. She’d been short with everyone all night, but she honestly hadn’t meant to snap at Geoffrey like that. The insult just slipped out and before she could apologize, he’d stormed off in the other direction. She’d dashed out the building as well, frustrated at her own stupidity.
“Candace, here.” She recognized his gentle voice immediately but before she could even respond he’d placed his suit jacket over her shoulders. Its warmth embraced her, the faintest hint of his cologne still lingering on the lapels. “I don’t want you freezing to death out here.”
She mumbled her thanks as he moved to stand next to her beside the streetlight in the parking lot. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed heavily, and Candace could see his breath in the darkness. “Me too…I don’t think you’re stupid.”
She managed a smile. “And I know you aren’t childish.”
“Correction, I’m very childish.” He grinned goofily which made her laugh, but the smile left as quickly as it came. “Seriously, though, Candace…I know I hurt your feelings—”
“Shh, it’s okay, Geoffrey. Really.” And then wordlessly, she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “I try, but I can never stay mad at someone like you.”
Geoffrey smiled.
AJ Kenobi
There was a gust of wind that swept by the house blowing all of the dust bunnies up into the air. I wanted it to take me with it. The way it took the thistles for a ride on its gentle wings. I was scared and i didn’t feel solid at all. Like the wind could just blow me away and that would be okay with me.
Like a gust of wind, you swept up the leaves in the corners of my mind and my heart to make room for something new. Of course, like the windy autumn, my heart has been prepared for snow.
Holly
A gust of wind, unexpected in its’ severity, sent a wave of sand straight for them, the tiny grains slipping through their protective layers of clothing with uncanny ease only to settle against their sweat-dampened skin.
This sigh could have been a range-y, prairie gust for all I cared. The lists always settle into piles. Just one good shrug and it all gets left behind. For a time a least, and that’s all I can say for myself. I just need a bubble that falls apart slowly. I need to see that sheen evaporate into misty droplets that disperse in a shimmery radiance as more than a billion prisms light the scene. This is where the road begins.
I felt a gust of wind roll over my shoulders.
“Soul,” I said, looking at my weapon. stoic as ever. he didn’t even glance at me. I get that he’s mad and all, but he’s taking this too far. suddenly I felt something on my shoulders and I instantly felt warmer.
“soul?”
his jacket. it’s on my shoulders, but he’s still walking ahead as if nothing’s changed. he doesn’t even glance back. I’m more grateful than ever, even if he is mad at me.
Noel
A gust of wind blows it to my feet. It’s a lone page, dusty and tea stained and as the wind blows in into my face I catch the faint smell of coffee. The street is deserted. I can hear footsteps and voices in the nearby streets, but here, in this corner of the city there’s no one.
A small crack in the grey, dampened stones let in a salty gust of Northern air. The winter here was more like a purgatory: there was no snow, only cold.
it blows away his hat with no regard for propriety and it is the only time he has ever truly panicked; he reaches forward to catch it and his hands meet hers instead.
they stare and he notes her scarf is long and she notes his eyes are blue and it has the potential to be something more than an accident –
‘sorry,’ he says, pulling away knitted-gloved fingers,
‘but have you seen my hat?’
A gust of cold wind played around the hem of her skirts. She turned slowly, blinking against the white light. Her nose turned cold. And there he was, a silhouette in the doorway. He was older, thinner, and more careworn. But it was unmistakably him.
Everything that made us up was just a gust of wind. We were so volatile. Those dark summer nights with only the moon and each other lighting our paths. The stormy spring fights where we would pour our heart and our soul and our mind into every shouting breath.
Maggie
A gust of wind overtook him, pushing him along the sidewalk. His collar was up, umbrella open, chin nestled deep in a nest of scarves and layers of jackets, but none of it helped. The wind pierced through every defense without trouble – a steak knife cutting through butter. It didn’t even notice he was there. So he trundled along, stumbling against the superior forces of weather that could have swept him away at any moment with a fierce blast, miserable, wet, and cold.
There was a gust of wind that blew inside of my room. I couldn’t help but feel alive, I had all the time in the world. There are things so much bigger than me than this life, in this world. You just have to look and find it.
The rain fell down as the wind tore at the tree branches causing them to whip and snap at her as she made her hasty retreat through the woods. She could almost imagine the phantom footsteps crunching against the autumn leaves whistling in her ears demanding she surrender and turn back.
Yesterday I experienced stronger gusts of wind that I can remember. I was on the back of a Motorcyle coming back from Napa Valley. I felt like I was about to be nearly blown off the motorcyle. Without a seatbelt, and holding onto a floppy chair as my “anchor,” I felt a sense of danger and anxiety.
Adam
A gust of wind slammed the windows shut and opened them again and again, trapping the scared children in nothing but loud noises and terror. They didn’t dare look up, fearing what was going on above them. Their teacher told them about it in school. They remembered every word, heard them ringing in their ears.
Clara
You start small. No matter how angry you are, and how backed into a corner, your abilities are limited and there is not much you can do – but the beauty of being a weak beginner is in the vast mountainscapes of potential before you. There is so much to build up. There is so much to be gained.
A gust of wind, a flurry of snowflakes, a sense of impending change. The air was suddenly alive with new feelings.
Zoe
A gust in the wind I suppose. I’m not even sure what gust means, what it translates into, but it reminds me of autumn. Of leafs dancing in the wind, and little children getting blinded by their own hair as they use the swingset on the playground.
Hannah
A huge gust of wind threatened to knock her over, but instead just blew off her hat instead. She started chasing after it but eventually gave up after a few moments, standing in the sand and shaking her head. She’d rather liked that hat, and it didn’t seem like she could get a new one. But a few moments later, she saw the hat once again – this time being carried by someone rather attractive.
As a gust of wind will send packets of leaves fluttering along the ground, so did the sight of her rouse a multitude of bad memories in his mind. And, also like the wind, they were seemingly eternal – a force of nature…
John Doe
A gust, that’s all she thought it was. Then she realized she was inside and then she realized, it wasn’t just a gust of wind, it was created from the angry and re faced girl across the room from her. She felt the fear then. She had gotten cocky she assumed she was the only one with the gift. Stupid, proud, arrogant, of course there would be others, there were always others.
A gust of wind pressed against my shoulders like a puff of hot breath, and I actually spun around to see if anyone was behind me. No one. The city had never felt so empty. I knew that most likely, everyone was staying indoors because of the sweltering heat. Not me. I found enjoyment in walking beneath the heavy sun, the sweat cooling off my face as it leaked from beneath the rim of my sunglasses and dripped down the bridge of my nose.
Belinda Roddie
A gust of wind made the wisps of her hair go in her eyes. He smiled and gently wiped them away. Slowly, he lowered his head and kissed her. She had been waiting for this moment since the first time they saw each other. Waiting was probably one of the best decisions of her life.
The gust blew all the papers from my hands. They dispersed and developed the physical shape of the wind, arcing through the air and then back down to the ground like an attenuated, disjointed sail.
Clayton
A gust of wind blew though the trees, her hair golden hair blew about. He smiled at her elegance, she was beauty, and he was so happy to call her his.
there was a gust blowing in the breeze, the sea moved steadily. the salt was thick int he air and the gulls chirped overhead. There was a strong breeze that day, that mingled with the seafoam waved, and the salty seamen of the docks (hehe). There was a pirate ship poting, and people were running around screaming and shit. Oh my God, it was terrible. Turrible.
Do you ever think about how many people you’ve met in your lifetime? Ho many faces have you seen? Has it reached a thousand? Ten thousand, hundred thousand? Perhaps a million people’s faces have passed through your line of vision. Do you ever think about how many emotions you’ve felt in your lifetime? What variation of emotions have you felt? Anger, happiness, sadness, excitement, disappointment? Rapid surges of emotion that play on your face that you can never really see except through the reflection of a mirror.
It was trying to move me, the gust shifted my mood as it passed, rustling the leave. When I lifted my eyes to the horizon I wanted my mood pull me higher into the mists, I wanted to walk and see distant hills and far horizons. But the attempt to ameliorate my humour was poor and frail, it failed and I hunkered down into my thick coat. The weather was not going to aid me, I would have to string myself along on the promise of warmth and sunshine tomorrow or some time next week.
A gust of wind went flying thought the tree tops, shaking the trees into a forced dance. Limb broke off, tumbling to the ground in great numbers.
The gust of wind picked up the back of Donna’s skirt just as she was leaning, arms full, into the trunk of her car. Mothers covered their children’s (and husbands’) eyes while Marie — who really should have made haste to come to Donna’s rescue — did nothing but laugh helplessly. “Perhaps you should think about wearing underpants the next time you’ve got on such a short, flouncy skirt,” she giggled, finally collecting herself enough to smooth the fabric back down over Donna’s bare bum.
Miss McVicor whipped around the assembly hall like a sandstorm, sizing up each girl from headband to sports socks, scrutinising their faces for any trace of makeup and measuring the length of their skirts, which must land strictly two inches above the knee. She moved quickly for someone so stout. She liked to take you by surprise. When she had been once around the entire perimeter of the room I started to breathe easy. A mistake. She moved to the centre of the hall, quiet and still, in the eye of the storm. She smoothed down the unruly gray hairs in her Germanic bob and turned very slowly towards me. Then in a fresh gust of fury she launched herself at me and my ridiculous orange hair.
Candace sighed, wishing she’d put on more than the worn, faded denim jacket before abruptly leaving the studio. A short gust of wind blew through her brown hair and she shivered, goosebumps pricking her plump arms. She’d been short with everyone all night, but she honestly hadn’t meant to snap at Geoffrey like that. The insult just slipped out and before she could apologize, he’d stormed off in the other direction. She’d dashed out the building as well, frustrated at her own stupidity.
“Candace, here.” She recognized his gentle voice immediately but before she could even respond he’d placed his suit jacket over her shoulders. Its warmth embraced her, the faintest hint of his cologne still lingering on the lapels. “I don’t want you freezing to death out here.”
She mumbled her thanks as he moved to stand next to her beside the streetlight in the parking lot. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed heavily, and Candace could see his breath in the darkness. “Me too…I don’t think you’re stupid.”
She managed a smile. “And I know you aren’t childish.”
“Correction, I’m very childish.” He grinned goofily which made her laugh, but the smile left as quickly as it came. “Seriously, though, Candace…I know I hurt your feelings—”
“Shh, it’s okay, Geoffrey. Really.” And then wordlessly, she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “I try, but I can never stay mad at someone like you.”
Geoffrey smiled.
There was a gust of wind that swept by the house blowing all of the dust bunnies up into the air. I wanted it to take me with it. The way it took the thistles for a ride on its gentle wings. I was scared and i didn’t feel solid at all. Like the wind could just blow me away and that would be okay with me.
The air always moves
about my face
stirring and lifting
the common place
devoid of reason
without a purpose
sent from hither
and going where ever.
Like a gust of wind, you swept up the leaves in the corners of my mind and my heart to make room for something new. Of course, like the windy autumn, my heart has been prepared for snow.
A gust of wind, unexpected in its’ severity, sent a wave of sand straight for them, the tiny grains slipping through their protective layers of clothing with uncanny ease only to settle against their sweat-dampened skin.
My hand jumped to my hat at the next gust of wind, struggling to keep it from blowing away. Ugh.
‘Walk to work’, they said. ‘It’ll be good for you’, they said. I was dying of fucking frostbite.
This sigh could have been a range-y, prairie gust for all I cared. The lists always settle into piles. Just one good shrug and it all gets left behind. For a time a least, and that’s all I can say for myself. I just need a bubble that falls apart slowly. I need to see that sheen evaporate into misty droplets that disperse in a shimmery radiance as more than a billion prisms light the scene. This is where the road begins.
I felt a gust of wind roll over my shoulders.
“Soul,” I said, looking at my weapon. stoic as ever. he didn’t even glance at me. I get that he’s mad and all, but he’s taking this too far. suddenly I felt something on my shoulders and I instantly felt warmer.
“soul?”
his jacket. it’s on my shoulders, but he’s still walking ahead as if nothing’s changed. he doesn’t even glance back. I’m more grateful than ever, even if he is mad at me.
A gust of wind blows it to my feet. It’s a lone page, dusty and tea stained and as the wind blows in into my face I catch the faint smell of coffee. The street is deserted. I can hear footsteps and voices in the nearby streets, but here, in this corner of the city there’s no one.
A small crack in the grey, dampened stones let in a salty gust of Northern air. The winter here was more like a purgatory: there was no snow, only cold.
it blows away his hat with no regard for propriety and it is the only time he has ever truly panicked; he reaches forward to catch it and his hands meet hers instead.
they stare and he notes her scarf is long and she notes his eyes are blue and it has the potential to be something more than an accident –
‘sorry,’ he says, pulling away knitted-gloved fingers,
‘but have you seen my hat?’
A gust of cold wind played around the hem of her skirts. She turned slowly, blinking against the white light. Her nose turned cold. And there he was, a silhouette in the doorway. He was older, thinner, and more careworn. But it was unmistakably him.
Hurricane force hurls
Bodies resisting in vain
Defenestrated.
wind storm sails boat kite leaves rustling
Everything that made us up was just a gust of wind. We were so volatile. Those dark summer nights with only the moon and each other lighting our paths. The stormy spring fights where we would pour our heart and our soul and our mind into every shouting breath.
A gust of wind overtook him, pushing him along the sidewalk. His collar was up, umbrella open, chin nestled deep in a nest of scarves and layers of jackets, but none of it helped. The wind pierced through every defense without trouble – a steak knife cutting through butter. It didn’t even notice he was there. So he trundled along, stumbling against the superior forces of weather that could have swept him away at any moment with a fierce blast, miserable, wet, and cold.
There was a gust of wind that blew inside of my room. I couldn’t help but feel alive, I had all the time in the world. There are things so much bigger than me than this life, in this world. You just have to look and find it.
There was a gust of wind. It blew me right over. Toppled down the hill and it was over. Everything was over.
Swept away like sand from a kitchen floor like dirt from huts in africa like a piece of paper in the wind like victims of a tsunami like me by you
A gust of wind blew back her hair, and all he did was a pushing motion.
The rain fell down as the wind tore at the tree branches causing them to whip and snap at her as she made her hasty retreat through the woods. She could almost imagine the phantom footsteps crunching against the autumn leaves whistling in her ears demanding she surrender and turn back.
Yesterday I experienced stronger gusts of wind that I can remember. I was on the back of a Motorcyle coming back from Napa Valley. I felt like I was about to be nearly blown off the motorcyle. Without a seatbelt, and holding onto a floppy chair as my “anchor,” I felt a sense of danger and anxiety.
A gust of wind slammed the windows shut and opened them again and again, trapping the scared children in nothing but loud noises and terror. They didn’t dare look up, fearing what was going on above them. Their teacher told them about it in school. They remembered every word, heard them ringing in their ears.
You start small. No matter how angry you are, and how backed into a corner, your abilities are limited and there is not much you can do – but the beauty of being a weak beginner is in the vast mountainscapes of potential before you. There is so much to build up. There is so much to be gained.
A gust of wind, a flurry of snowflakes, a sense of impending change. The air was suddenly alive with new feelings.
A gust in the wind I suppose. I’m not even sure what gust means, what it translates into, but it reminds me of autumn. Of leafs dancing in the wind, and little children getting blinded by their own hair as they use the swingset on the playground.
A huge gust of wind threatened to knock her over, but instead just blew off her hat instead. She started chasing after it but eventually gave up after a few moments, standing in the sand and shaking her head. She’d rather liked that hat, and it didn’t seem like she could get a new one. But a few moments later, she saw the hat once again – this time being carried by someone rather attractive.
As a gust of wind will send packets of leaves fluttering along the ground, so did the sight of her rouse a multitude of bad memories in his mind. And, also like the wind, they were seemingly eternal – a force of nature…
A gust, that’s all she thought it was. Then she realized she was inside and then she realized, it wasn’t just a gust of wind, it was created from the angry and re faced girl across the room from her. She felt the fear then. She had gotten cocky she assumed she was the only one with the gift. Stupid, proud, arrogant, of course there would be others, there were always others.
A cool breeze,
A large gust,
All the same.
Wind
A gust of wind pressed against my shoulders like a puff of hot breath, and I actually spun around to see if anyone was behind me. No one. The city had never felt so empty. I knew that most likely, everyone was staying indoors because of the sweltering heat. Not me. I found enjoyment in walking beneath the heavy sun, the sweat cooling off my face as it leaked from beneath the rim of my sunglasses and dripped down the bridge of my nose.
A gust of wind made the wisps of her hair go in her eyes. He smiled and gently wiped them away. Slowly, he lowered his head and kissed her. She had been waiting for this moment since the first time they saw each other. Waiting was probably one of the best decisions of her life.
The gust blew all the papers from my hands. They dispersed and developed the physical shape of the wind, arcing through the air and then back down to the ground like an attenuated, disjointed sail.
A gust of wind blew though the trees, her hair golden hair blew about. He smiled at her elegance, she was beauty, and he was so happy to call her his.
there was a gust blowing in the breeze, the sea moved steadily. the salt was thick int he air and the gulls chirped overhead. There was a strong breeze that day, that mingled with the seafoam waved, and the salty seamen of the docks (hehe). There was a pirate ship poting, and people were running around screaming and shit. Oh my God, it was terrible. Turrible.