I'm here to tell a story, of what was, or is, or will be. It isn't an ordinary tale of triumphs and woes, but rather a truth to the perception. It isn't meant to be a mind game, despite what it may seem. Each person will see it in a different light, and think in different colors. If you realize or if you don't, it'll be the same to everyone. Completely different.



It was one of those rare frozen Kansas winters. The kind that make your face numb within a moment. The kind that pull the breath from your lungs. And the kind that drives some insane. Then again, perhaps it was just another winter, just another ordinary winter.

And imagine that the park was also just an ordinary park, with an ordinary girl sitting in an ordinary swing that had no age. In her hands, that were by all rights empty to her mind, was just another notebook, also empty to her mind.

What a silly little mind, the kind that knows nothing, and creates nothing of value to the ordinary values. Yes, quite silly indeed.

"Nobody knows, what I know. Nobody sees the wind. The soul of fire. The conscience of time. The sway of colors that trick mind into believing they're all the same."

Now don't you see? Even silly words. Not the type a writer should even think, let alone speak. That alone is a curse. Once spoken, there is no control, and insanity is chaos.

"Watching over me, you could never tell the secrets that please. You could never see the life or the rise and fall of the breath of it."

And again. A repeat series of events that have no sense. So take a different take.

She stands with no emotion. She's sort of stiff from the cold, but the type, she'll never admit.

Footsteps rise and fall, like the air from her mouth. Yet, she hasn't moved.

A boy. The same look, but a different style. Together the two are like a puzzle, alone each is a bit extreme. Each needs each, but neither wants either.

The girl is all of the colours that create space. The boy is coloured in its nothingness.

A creak from the metal structure that holds the chains, which hold the wood which together holds two creatures, excluding a very small bug.

"So, when do I get to find you?"

"You can't. You don't understand."

"What if I want to?"

"Doesn't matter."

She wanted to find him though, she missed him when he wasn't there.

"I die today," he spoke blankly.

She smiled, "I know."

He pushed his feet so he swung back and got pulled forward, captured in a pendulum like state.

"Are you going to come with?"

"Sometime. It'll be longer for you than for me though."

"Of course," he replied, his swing slowing to a stop.

"I wonder what time it'll be?"

"Perhaps the same as it was."

"I hope not, it's tiring after a while."

"Yes," she paused, "Perhaps I'll be able to find you once I'm not new anymore."

"You will."

She smiled. It was a happy though. She couldn't wait.

"How will it happen?"

He looked at her, "Scarlet fever."

"I think mine will be from a train accident."

"Yes, you look the part." He stood, "I have to go now, I'll see you."

"Always."

With the gust of wind, he was gone.

Then, moments later, seventy years ago, he died.