Wind chimes are at once soothing and relaxing to me while also a trigger for fear
I ran out of gas in the power washer the other day and sat down for just a few minutes on the patio. As I leaned my head back I smiled at the noise of the trees blowing in the wind, the wind chime tinkling and the birds cooing and sighed contentedly.
I drifted off to sleep in the way you only can on a warm summer Sunday afternoon outside. But as I was caught somewhere between awake and asleep the wind chimes started changing. They became ominous. In my head I was moved from the blue chair on my patio to the green swing on the porch of their house. The concrete under my feet changed to painted gray wood weathered by a generation of feet.
I could see myself sleeping with a book on my chest on the swing while it swayed back and forth unaware of the footsteps approaching me.
She walked up to the back of the swing.
She leaned over and with the smell of bitterness rotting on her breath she hissed in my ear, "Bethany".
I startled awake in real life. I looked around and didn't see anyone. I rubbed my eyes reminding myself that I'm not there, and I don't have to go there ever again. I rested my head back against the chair again and immediately fell asleep.
I saw myself. Sitting in the grass under a weeping willow tree. Listening to those same wind chimes and the birds in the early evening cooing and calling each other home. I watched through branches to the ground and the windows older than I as they walked around the house. I felt the breeze lifting the hair off the back of my neck as I shivered, knowing I had to go in soon.
I startled awake as the patio door opened. Shouting out my heart pounded as I realized I was no longer small. I was no longer there. I was no longer powerless or at the mercy of angry women.