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THE WIND CRIES MARY

By Samira Wyld

Text copyright © 2018 Samira Wyld

All rights reserved

For Faith Yvonne


The woman trembled as I hurriedly pulled the outdoor furniture inside from the balcony. The wind whistled behind me, forcing its way through the gaps as I slammed the sliding door shut.

‘I’m sorry for overcrowding your room, but we need to bring all unsecured items inside. It’s just a precaution, because of the high winds.’

Her dark eyes filled with tears. ‘Are we going to be okay?’ she asked, her voice feeble.

Fear knocked at the back of my brain. I didn’t know how to answer her. ‘Try not to worry. Stay indoors at all times. Staff and management will keep you informed if anything changes.’

‘Changes?’

I looked at the desperation lined on her smooth, young skin, and placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to reassure her. ‘Look, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. The last report I heard said the cyclone is expected to die at sea.’

It was a lie, but I could tell by her expression she trusted and believed me, hanging onto every word. ‘Try to stay calm,’ I said and left the room.

The wind tore at me, slamming into my chest, as I stepped outside. Damn cyclone! I was supposed to be in Brisbane in a couple of days. Nothing was leaving the island anytime soon, no plane, boat, least of all me. I thought of Mum: she needed me. I’d got the call two days ago, and had booked the flights, then Mary turned up. A tropical depression that was turning into a bloody great cyclone, winding down the Queensland coast, with this island directly in its path.


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