"Why, Fade?"

Appearing to be only a cool dry, Fall wind, the molecules conveyed along ever so imperfectly, the breeze gathered unto It any and all particulate matter. It called unto Itself whatever was found to be accessible; thereby, hiding somewhat a loneliness of vast and violent proportions.

The gregarious animation of those particles was forced plastically, and yet...gently, tenderly; perhaps even, affectionately. One whispering sigh of wistful Ardor slowly succoring up to the clean, bright, powerful Lifeforce of...a little child.

Listlessly, the boy sat on the windowbench, one leg bent partially beneath him. He shifted his feet, allowing them both to dangle loosely at the ends of his legs. Sadly, he remained crowded within the white rectangular confines of an untattered window frame, vacantly staring off into the yard beyond the panes of glass; bearing forth, no remembered...regrets.

Trailing at a distance, was an owl. Sensing something amiss, she serenely swooped into the midst of the breeze-Entity's presence. As she gracefully permeated the non-existent skin of the Being, she stumbled in mid-flight; a unique and uncharacteristic surprise for a creature such as this. Never before had she encountered anything with such intensity of design. And yet, it was so serene in Its maneuvers, almost completely hidden within a Nature she had been adept at nearly since birth.

The Entity had thrust an immense, ethereal "palm" over yet one more small, suburban New England house. Probing. Deathless. A loving, wont-encrusted Essence. Ever searching. Eternally longing. It was relentless. Wholly unstoppable in Its desperate hunt for sustenance.

The apparently benign Fall breeze hesitated, severely stunned by the positive sonar-like responses to Its inquiries. After so long a time, after so much random tasting, It finally had, yet once again, arrived at Its goal. Like a newly grown skin, this Force, this pressure-cloud, tightly encompassed the fragile structure of the house.

It simply ignored the owl that was still cautiously investigating, curiously gliding along Its parameter. Microscopic specks of dust, accrued from every edge of the globe and beyond, fell through layer upon layer of the Essence; attractively landing upon the cedar shingled roof top.

Magnetically, they settled there.

Slowly they joined together in small clusters, like tiny nebulae.

Automatically, they followed superficial cracks in the newly painted surfaces of the typically white residential building.

Promenading together with the all too prevalent meteoritic bits, bug parts, dead skin cells, and such; the Breeze-animated specks flittered along with that same samotous Force; only to at last sojourn delicately upon one, eight window-paned set of recently cleaned, bedroom window glass.

His youthful mind scanned and randomly searched for the memories, the misplaced memories of his lost Parents. They seemed so far away now. If only he could remember. If only...

Sadly, thoughts of a story his Parents had told him, of how his Grandfather, a Non-Denomenational Minister, had accidentally died in a War called WWII, the Big One. It had been his first explanation of death, of pain. At the time, it had been far from a complete one.

Aunt Dearth had vainly tried to reach Andrew's trapped consciousness. Her intentions, though a little over-protecting under the circumstances, had met with little success. Her second generation, German sensibilities, had told her to be strict with him. But her matronly intuition had countered that with the observation, in her excessively superstitious opinion, that Andrew was somehow, a special case in point. After all, seeing one's parents meet such a dismembering demise was, well, it was...a Sin.

Aunt Dearth was simply at a loss.