Shall I tell you a story?
Very well then … so it is, and so it shall be.
As is well known in most circles of any consequence, the many worlds on this planet do occasionally meet in the same space, at the same time, usually, but not always, in a surprising and most unexpected manner … if either dimension is to be believed.
If the reader wishes to believe that the worlds of imagination, for as some would say imagination, that surround us at all times are just that and nothing more, and in thinking so, it makes their lives comfortable and easier to cope with, so be it. To those who have lost the key to the doors unseen, this story may help you remember. Thankfully, the lad still had the key in his back pocket, although he never quite knew what it was for.
And then again, this could just be another story of a child growing up in the quickest of fashions. If it would help at all, I could tell you that the boy always fit into a smaller package. His parents gave him eyes of the sky, a pronounced economy with words, and a noticeable separation between his two front teeth. You would never be able to single him out because of his looks, although his desert mother would give him very blond hair and paint freckles all over his face in the summer months. Seeing, however, that this description will do little to serve, let us stop there.
From Chapter 3
The Vision Child
“The creature child has come to play. He’s so different from most of his kind. He respects my power and thinks I am beautiful just as I am, even though he comes from those who would change and defile me. I will watch over the child, even though Sister Wind is in a fierce mood. She whips at him as though he alone is responsible for the acts of his kind. Careful, sister,” the desert warns, “even you are no match for me, and this child is under my protection. You may not have him. He has made it to his Tumbleweed Fort,” the desert declares … “and she is waiting.”
From the last page of Tumbleweed Forts
“The candle-wax warriors have all but melted into the past. I never thought I would see the paint of excitement and gladness fade and chip away from those swing set memories. I don’t know … maybe it’s to make room for the excitement of new ones.” Then, I could see a serenity in Joshua’s eyes as a quiet smile appeared on his face. “But … I will always have those sticker-patch days in the tumbleweed forts.”