Chapter 1. The Hurricane
Nino lived in the Green Heart of Paris, surrounded by a simple yet remarkable life, with his uncle and aunt, who were farmers, and his younger brother Chris. Their home was situated on a unique plot of land where space and tranquility reigned supreme. This place, hidden deep within Paris, was striking in its contrast: an empty field stretched out around them, devoid of any buildings except for their modest dwelling. The house consisted of a cozy kitchen, a spacious bedroom for the aunt and uncle, and a shared room for the brothers.
A trapdoor on the floor led to the basement—a mysterious, dark space with a ladder descending into it, where Nino sometimes ventured in search of adventure. His uncle proudly told him that despite the city's rapid expansion, their plot had retained its pristine nature thanks to its special status as a historical heritage site.
Only their family lived there, but Nino never felt lonely. They cared for a flock of chickens, geese, and even a couple of pigs, treating the animals like childhood friends. In the spring, their home came alive with visiting botanists and nature enthusiasts seeking temporary refuge from the urban hustle. Guests often stayed overnight, and although they were supposed to sleep in the children’s room, at night Nino and Chris would eagerly listen to their stories, often earning scoldings from their aunt for staying up too late.
Despite occasional thoughts about the monotony and emptiness of the surrounding world, Nino still adored his family and small home, which had become his cozy sanctuary. He was twelve years old and always found ways to have fun, even in this secluded corner. Every morning he greeted the day with anticipation of new stories and possibilities, filling each day of his childhood with vivid moments. Nino understood that happiness could be found even where you least expect it.
But today, the clouds were black, and this seriously troubled his uncle. He stood by the window, gazing sadly at the darkened sky, lost in thought about the unexpected storm that seemed poised to unleash all its fury on their little house. The light from the lamp cast a pale glow on his face, creating an eerie illumination that underscored his anxious thoughts.
Meanwhile, Nino was in his room, sitting on the bed and flipping through an old book with yellowed pages. Each word resonated in his mind with distant memories of peaceful times when storms seemed like nothing more than scary stories. Five-year-old Chris, cheerful and unusually serious for his age, was with their aunt, who, bathed in the soft light of the evening lamps, peered out of the kitchen window at the sky. Her worried eyes roamed the horizon, trying to predict what this unpredictable day might bring.
From somewhere far away, to the north, came the first faint gust of wind, bringing with it the cold breath of the impending storm. The man also noticed how the tall grass began to sway before their eyes, as if whispering its concerns. Then behind them came a loud whistle—the powerful squall rushed in from the south, overpowering the balance of nature. Turning around, they saw how the wind from the south drove gentle waves through the grass, relentlessly approaching their home.
The clouds, swirling like angry giants, intensified the ominous atmosphere, preparing to transform the familiar landscape into an arena of elemental chaos. Slowly turning to his family, the uncle's face was grave. Every sound in the room was permeated with the noise of the wind, howling anxiously and inevitably.
-"Dear, a hurricane is approaching,"- the man shouted to his wife. -"I’ll go check on the livestock."
With those words, he ran to the pen where they kept the animals. The sky rapidly darkened; thick clouds swirled menacingly, threatening to unleash a torrent of bad weather. Flurries of dust whirled in the air—he needed to quickly calm the animals and gather them under shelter. The wind attacked with unstoppable force, tearing leaves from trees as if nature itself was asserting its power.
The aunt quickly picked up Noel. One glance out the window was enough for her to realize—the situation was serious. Burrowing his face into her shoulder, the boy felt how tense her muscles were, how her heart pounded. Panic began to grip the woman, but she knew she couldn’t give in to fear.
-"Hurry, Nino!" -she shouted. -"Hide in the basement!"
Already frightened by the unfolding events, Nino hastened to obey her command. Slipping off the bed, but in his haste, he miscalculated his movements, his legs tangled, and he fell to the floor.
Deeply alarmed, his aunt flung open the trapdoor in the floor and began descending the ladder into the narrow, dark shelter. It smelled of dampness and earth, but it was the safest place in the house where they could take refuge from the storm. The noise outside grew louder, shaking the house as if struck by an invisible giant. Finally, Nino, having regained his footing, hurried toward the trapdoor. Each of his steps echoed in the empty house, the sound distorted and hollow amidst the anxious hum.
As he neared it, a piercing howl of wind erupted, and the house shook so violently that the boy lost his balance and landed hard on the floor. From the impact, shadows danced before his eyes, and time seemed to freeze.
The house trembled, windows frames whined pitifully, creating an impression that the building was about to fall apart. Nino, shaking from fear and excitement, gathered all his willpower, and rose again.
Then an incredible thing happened. The house spun two or three times, and slowly floated upwards. Nino looked out the window in horror and saw that the house had been caught in a tornado, giving the sensation of being on a hot air balloon.
It was very dark inside the house; the walls seemed to shake from terrifying gusts of wind howling around it, like a pack of wolves running through the forest on a moonlit night. However, despite this storm, Nino found that he was flying in the house quite peacefully, as if everything happening was no more than an exciting adventure of a barefoot boy who had first arrived at the big square in the center of a dusty city.
After the house initially spun a couple of times, as if it were on a giant carousel, it tilted once more, causing goosebumps and absolute bewilderment for Nino – how was all this possible? Only after a few moments did the house find relative balance and calmly floated in the air, like a mysterious ship on the sea of winds and uncertainty. At this moment, Nino's heartbeat slowed down a bit, and he began to distinguish silhouettes sliding along the walls from fleeting rays of moonlight breaking through rare gaps in the clouds.
The view outside the window struck his imagination: impenetrable darkness interrupted by lightning flashes, silver lightning bolts streaked across the sky, as if mighty hands of ancient titans. Thunderclouds rose like menacing waves, and cold stars flickered in their hearts, full of promises and secret treasures.
He imagined that the house had now come to life and gained its own consciousness, like the great ships of the round age of existence, setting off in search of new lands and adventures in the boundless ocean of the universe. The restless whisper of the wind gave way to a prolonged hum, leaving notes of mystery and eternity in the air.
Nino couldn't tear himself away from the window for a long time: he watched as the house, like an aerial dancer, twirled and played, still unaware of how to return to solid ground.
Eventually, Nino decided to go to his room. He slowly made his way across the swaying floor to his bed – his recently oscillating creative fortress, where he always felt safe, suddenly seemed to him to be a haven. Nestling into the cozy embrace of soft pillows, he covered himself with a blanket and, wiping away tears and adjusting his glasses, turned his thoughts to something distant, warm, and protective. Despite the rocking house and the howling wind, Nino soon closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.
He dreamed that he was back on the farm, where his voice solemnly echoed with the clucking of chickens. His younger and clumsier brother tried to keep up with him, pretending to be a hero leaping over invisible obstacles. Their aunt was knitting, and their uncle smoked a pipe on the porch, enveloped in the scents of jasmine and freshly cut grass.
But the most anticipated were the evening tea parties on the large veranda, where the smells of dried apricots and linden honey mingled with the light air. Aunt, as always friendly, set the table, and their uncle, telling another captivating story, gathered attentive listeners around him.
But as wonderful as it was, reality soon hastened to remind him of itself.
Nino didn’t know how long he slept, but a sharp noise woke him up, like an energy surge on the night horizon. He struggled to open his eyes and realized that the house was no longer flying, or perhaps the wind had become quieter. The silence frightened him more than any other creature in this world. With caution but certainty, he walked to the front door, listening to every creak of the wooden boards underfoot. Opening it, he realized that he was in a completely different place. He was no longer in the Green Heart of Paris, nor even in Paris itself. The wind surrounding him carried the scent of freshness and flowers, and before him stretched an endless horizon of a new world.