Fingertips: I Hear the Wind Blow
Fingertips: A Flash Experiment, is a project where I’m writing a different flash story for each bit of the They Might Be Giants’ “Fingertips” songs from Apollo 18
I Hear The Wind Blow. It Seems to Say, “Hello, Hello, I’m the One Who Loves You So.”
We all saw the harlequin enter the courtroom, but no one reacted. It like seeing a hearse parked at a movie theater or a three-legged goat in a department store. You saw the signs, you noted them, you moved on.
I was a single young law student, studying the argument style of one of the senior partners of the firm where I interned. He was defending a seventeen-year-old murder suspect-who I thought was guilty but it wasn’t my place to speak up. I had my legal pad on my lap and I was taking notes as the garishly dressed man sauntered into the courtroom and sat beside me.
My boss, Eric James, looked right at me, but I could tell he was assessing the situation with the harlequin. He had sat on Mr. James’s side of the courtroom, meaning that James had a good chance of winning his case-but an unforeseen situation would come up afterward. I could see it in the face of the prosecuting attorney, too, as she looked over toward us.
Even though he sat next to me, I knew the harlequin’s presence had nothing to do with me. He was there to impact the case. But I could feel the color rise in my face as his bejangled head turned toward me and stared. I didn’t look back.
Mr. James finished his argument and the jury went into deliberation. The court adjourned and people began milling about. I bent over and slipped my legal pad back into my briefcase. When I sat up, the harlequin leaned over and planted his lips on my cheek. I gasped.
The harlequin’s kiss was brief and soft, but I felt something freeze when he touched me. The chill spread slowly across my face and down my neck. The harlequin got up and made his way out of the courtroom, the bells on his hat tinkling merrily.
I stood and leaned over to Mr. James. I tried to keep my voice light. “How do you feel about the case?” I asked him, but my words sounded hollow and cold.
I coughed once, holding my hand to my chest. I didn’t feel sick. Mr. James paid no attention to me. “Mr. James? Are you OK?” I asked.
The defendant leaned in and asked, “How did it go?”
Mr. James looked over his notes. “I think we’ve got it.”
“Did that clown guy help out?”
Mr. James looked around, panicked. “You don’t say that. Never talk about that.”
Luke nodded. “Yeah, like how I can’t talk about how my baby niece was born with a cowl. I get it.”
A cowl? That information hadn’t entered into the court documents. Probably because he had been taught not to talk about it. A baby born with a cowl was a powerful sign, indicating the child will grow to great power. But as Luke was being tried for killing the newborn niece, you’d think they’d mention it.
Mr. James blanched and said, “Your niece was born with what?”
I realized I shouldn’t be interrupting this. Besides, the cold feeling was spreading. I reached out and touched Mr. James on his shoulder. “I’m going to hit the ladies room, I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t turn back to me, but he shivered, still staring at the young man.
No one acknowledged me in the crowd as I slipped past them to the restroom. Inside was nearly empty except for two women. One, identified in the courtroom as the dead girl’s mother, cried on a bench while an older woman held her. I averted my eyes and went to the sink.
What I saw in the mirror made me scream and fall back. What had that harlequin done to me?
The old woman looked up and said, “Hear that, Carol? My momma said when the cold wind blows indoors then a wrong is about to be made right.”
I looked at them, panicked. They didn’t pay any attention to me there on the floor. I crept back up and chanced another look in the mirror.
I was an icy blue, translucent. I looked carved from ice, but wispy, like a ghost. No wonder no one had paid me any attention. They couldn’t see me. “Hello, hello, can you see me?” I asked them, my voice sounding like a lonely, “HOOOOOOO.”
Carol composed herself but she looked up when I spoke. “Wait, I think I heard it that time.”
Her mother handed her a fresh tissue. “See, honey? The indoor wind helps those who have been wronged. It’ll be OK. That boy will go to jail.”
I fled from the bathroom, passing through the door without a thought. People gasped and shivered as I pushed past (to be honest, it was more like through) them. I ended up outside the courthouse, slumped on the marble steps and weeping. People around me pulled their coats tighter to their chests and looked around.
Just like they did when they noticed a portent.
The harlequin appeared in front of me, grinning. I looked up.
“Why me?”
“When the wind blows indoors, it rights a wrong. This courthouse needed a wind. You fit the bill.”
I made a face. “But I had a future-”
He waved his hand, interrupting. “Do you think we’re all just metaphysical representations? No, I was a mortgage broker with two kids when I got bitten by the black butterfly. Now I swing trials, but also appoint the winds. You will right wrongs and, when needed, appoint the granter of cowls to newborns. I thought it fitting.”
My mind whirled with possibility. I could feel the ties to my lonely life unravel behind me with a vague feeling of loss. I looked at the courthouse with a new sense of responsibility.
“I guess I should get back to work, then.”
This is released under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike license.
Fingertips 3 – I Hear The Wind (LP Version)
Fingertips: A Flash Experiment by Mur Lafferty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
Category: Writing
