A windy night has begun to lick at the alleyways. It’s tasting and considering the delicacies. As it whorls around the city, lapping up alley after alley, the flavors tickle it and send it reeling faster and faster. But wait, there’s something different here. The wind hasn’t tasted this scent before. Oh, wait, it has, but this one is just a bit different. It tickles the winds memory, sending it far back in time; this corner, this red brick building. Oh, the building of this place was special in the winds long memory.
But this is new. New-ish. Old and new. Two things at the same time; holy and not holy, delicious and repulsive. The wind dances around this building, sailing through the cracks and crannies, trying to place what is new. In the alley beside it. That’s what’s new. It wasn’t there the last time this wind traveled through here.
The wind takes shelter in the alley, hunkering down, making tiny eddies in the air, many little versions of itself, gorging itself on this new delicacy. There is a moaning and a groaning that the wind does not make. This sound has reached out from under something, and is trying to tame the eddies, trying to tame the wind.
A little laugh begins somewhere in the one of the mini-winds, and soon it travels to the others, multiplying. The moaning that is not of the wind opens a new alley for the wind to travel through. The wind laughs as it rushes to the opening. But this opening is not an opening. The wind is not finding its way through; where is the other side of this alley?
Oh shit. Not again. This is why the wind hasn’t been around this building in so many years. And it won’t be here again for many more.