Swing Sets and Stormclouds
by Kurt KirchmeierWere it not for the boy's red-and-white striped shirt, Madison would never even have gone outside, much less approached the swing set. As it was, she felt compelled to move in for a closer look. Her brother, Justin, had been wearing one just like it the night he went missing, and it had been raining then, too. The double coincidence could not be ignored. She quickly covered half the distance to the playground, rain drumming against her pink and blue umbrella.
He didn't swing like a normal boy; normal boys tried for height and speed, pumping their legs as though trying to bring the whole set down. This boy swung more like a girl: nice and easy, like he had more important things to think about than testing the wobbly frame.
Despite that, Madison still couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous. It was one thing to pretend she wasn't shy when she was standing at her window, but quite another now that she was actually within shouting distance. Nevertheless, she soon found herself just feet from the sand-bed beneath the swings. The rain was falling in fits and starts now, soft one second, heavy the next, like the clouds couldn't make up their minds.
The boy smiled at her, water dripping from his auburn hair. "Hey," he said. "I was hoping you'd come."
The strange greeting gave Madison pause. "Do...do I know you?" she asked. A single shaft of sunshine broke through as she spoke, bringing the boy's eyes into sharp relief: steel blue, she realized, the same as her brother's.
For some reason, the small break in the clouds seemed to trouble the boy. He turned his gaze skyward, ignoring her question. "Uh-oh," he said. "Too late."
Too late for what? Madison was about to ask, but before she could push even a single word past her lips, the boy was gone, his body disappearing in a brilliant flash of orange light. Madison let out a startled yelp and stepped back as the now empty swing continued its downward arc. She then stood there motionless, eyes wide, mouth agape.
It wasn't until the swing slowed to a gradual stop that she finally moved, and even then it was just a few steps. She reached out and placed a trembling hand on the wooden seat. It was dry, and warm to the touch. An odd scent hung in the air: flowery, yet unfamiliar.
Tilting her head back, Madison breathed it in. It was then that she noticed it had stopped raining.
Madison slept in the following morning, the image of the vanishing boy having kept her awake long into the night. When she first crawled out of bed, she was almost certain she'd dreamt the entire ordeal, but after making her way out into the kitchen, she was forced to admit to herself that it wasn't so.
Her mother was standing at the window, gazing out into the park across the street. She turned as Madison approached, sunlight playing across her face. "Morning, sweetie."
"Morning," Madison replied, a bit stiffly. She'd told her parents about the disappearing boy over supper the night before, but neither would listen. Still, she wasn't about to just let the matter drop. After all, Justin had spent his fair share of time on the very same swing.
"So do you believe me now?" she asked, her father shuffling into the room mid-question.
Her mother averted her eyes, like she was more interested in watching steam curl up from the cup of coffee on the counter than talking about what might have happened to her son. Was the memory just too hard to face, Madison wondered, or was there something else? It certainly seemed that way sometimes.
Her father narrowed his eyes. "I told you not to tell stories," he said. "You're upsetting your mother."
"But Justin--"
"That's enough," he said.
Madison held his gaze for the span of several heartbeats. Fast heartbeats. Had it not been for him, Justin would never have run off in the first place. She bit back the accusation and turned to leave the room, but not before casting one quick glance out at the playground in the distance. There was nobody on the swings.
Before Madison's brother disappeared, he used to keep a painting under his bed, a rolled-up print by an artist who lived just down the street. Justin had stolen it from the mall while he and Madison were shopping for Christmas presents. He was always pulling stunts like that, and didn't seem to even care if he got caught. It was almost like he was trying to get into trouble, like he wanted their dad to yell. As if he didn't get yelled at enough already.
The tension in their house was thick back then, like a poisonous fog that drifted from room to room. Some nights it felt so heavy Madison could almost feel it on her chest. It was on just such an evening she first discovered her brother standing at his window, the stolen painting held up to the moonlight.
Madison had been crying for a while by that point, so her nose was running something fierce. That's what gave her away, a quick little sniffle. Up until then, she'd just been standing at his door, watching.
He turned at the sound, taking one hand off the painting as he did so. It rolled up by itself. "Can't sleep?" he asked.
Madison shook her head, and then sniffled again.
"Yeah, me neither," he said.
Madison joined him at the window. "Can I see?" she asked, motioning toward the painting. She hadn't really gotten a good look at it the day he'd taken it, and had since forgotten all about it.
Justin shrugged. "I guess so."
Seconds later, Madison was staring down at a scene that could very well have come straight out of a storybook. Even in moonlight, the colors were breathtaking. Deep blues and canary yellows, the trees a shade of rust. There was a cottage in the background, its front yard rolling down to a river so clear it was almost transparent.
"It's pretty," she said, and although she meant it, she still felt a little bit sad. If only their own world had such color. Maybe then Justin could be happy.
"Do you think it could be real?" he asked.
Madison narrowed her eyes. "Real?"
Justin nodded. "I know," he said, "it sounds stupid. Maybe I saw it in a dream or something."
Justin's dreams--the ones he'd shared with her, at least--were usually of the fantastic variety, complete with water sprites, unicorns, and an enchanted wood that, according to him, stretched to infinity.
"Maybe," Madison agreed.
Justin fell quiet for a moment, his expression becoming gloomy. "I just don't feel like I belong here, you know?"
Madison nodded, pretending like she did. She'd always gotten along with her father, so she never knew what to say when things got sticky. It was just different for her, always had been. Still, she had to say something.
"It's not that he doesn't love you," she began, "it's just..."
She always faltered at that part. As much as she wanted to explain things, she never really could. It was almost like their lives were one giant puzzle missing a single piece. Perhaps that was why Justin stared so hard at that painting. He was looking for it.
Madison's dad left four days after the incident in the park, his bags packed for yet another meeting out of town. He'd been traveling for work since before she was born, and although he was usually only gone for a week or so, it often seemed like he was never there. Madison wondered sometimes if her mother ever got lonely, being at home by herself all the time. If she did, she certainly didn't show it.
Madison waved from the front step, and then watched as the cab disappeared around the bend.
"Looks like rain," said her mother.
Madison followed her gaze toward a mass of clouds just off to the west, hovering over a distant neighborhood like a big gray hand. She nodded her agreement, doing her best to ignore the tingle of excitement that had begun to well up in her stomach.
The drizzle began an hour or so later, the all-out downpour just minutes after that. It swept against the house in waves, one after another. Madison watched it from the kitchen window, her fingers clamped to the edge of the countertop.
Although she could hardly see past the street, much less into the park, she somehow knew he was there, his red-and-white striped shirt plastered against his skin.
As usual, Madison had listened to the fight from beneath her covers, crying all the while. When the yelling finally stopped, she came out to find Justin talking to her mother in hushed whispers, shoes on his feet, a thin raincoat hanging from his fist. Where her father had gone to, Madison had no idea.
Justin looked up as she approached, the lights flickering as he did so. He then made for the door, the sound of his footsteps silenced by a sharp clap of thunder.
Madison immediately moved to block him.
"Get out of the way," Justin said as she put her back to the door, her palms pressed against the casing on either side.
She shook her head. Again, the lights flickered.
"Let him go, Madison," said her mother.
"But Mom, it's storming!"
"Get out of the way," Justin said for the second time. His eyes were teary and red, his bottom lip swollen.
Madison glanced back to her mother, wishing she would intervene. Justin usually just locked himself in his room after an argument, but sometimes, when things got really nasty, he would take a walk to clear his head. He'd never done so at such a late hour, though, and never in weather like this.
"Let him go," her mother said again. "He'll be fine." Her voice sounded hollow, distant. She was shaking, too.
"No!" Madison said, clenching her fists in frustration.
Justin reached out and gently grabbed her shoulders. "It's okay," he said. "Mom's right, I'll be fine."
For long seconds Madison just stared at him, but then finally gave in and moved to let him pass.
Justin paused on the threshold, as though reconsidering, but then continued out the door.
It was the last time Madison ever saw him.
As tempting as it was to just throw on a raincoat and head out into the deluge, Madison knew that her mother would never let her near the door. Rain was one thing, a full-on storm quite another. So instead she just stood there, watching, waiting.
Her patience was soon rewarded. Her mother appeared from the hall just seconds after a particularly loud roll of thunder, a laundry basket under her arm and an iron in her hand.
Madison waited until she'd gone down the stairs, and then quickly made for the door.
The rain was colder than she'd anticipated, the wind-swept droplets like ice pellets against her cheeks. She squinted her eyes and bolted down the drive, her raincoat billowing out from her back like a partially inflated raft. By the time she hit the street she was already having second thoughts. It was far worse than it had appeared from the window. Nevertheless, she splashed through the puddles and onto the grass, and quickly found herself halfway there. Only then did she look up for confirmation. The wind died suddenly as she did so.
Despite her hunch, she still felt a little surprised at the sight of him. That someone would go swinging in such a downpour was almost unthinkable.
"You came back," the boy said as she drew near. Calm as his voice was, it somehow carried over the thunder and rain, which seemed to be easing up a bit now.
Madison shrugged, and then sat herself down on the swing next to his. She'd thought of a hundred questions to ask him if she ever got the chance, and yet suddenly couldn't remember a single one, like the memory of the orange light had somehow drained them from her mind. "Where...where did you go?" she finally managed.
The boy continued to swing, his every pass like a whisper in her ear. He was smiling now. "Close your eyes," he said, ignoring her question. "Swing with me."
Madison stared at him, her confusion growing with every second that passed. Even so, she finally went along with his request and began to pump her legs.
After a minute or so of anxious waiting, during which the boy uttered not a single word, she closed her eyes and steadily fell into a rhythm, the repetitive squeak from the bar above lulling her into an almost hypnotic-like state. She could still hear the thunder, but it was further off now, or at least it seemed like it was. Then again, everything seemed far off all of a sudden. It almost felt as though she'd been wrapped in some sort of spell, that the world had slipped away and left nothing but the swing set and the two of them.
"Can you hear it?" the boy asked suddenly, his voice breaking in on her thoughts.
Madison tightened her grip on the chains. "Hear what?" she asked.
"My world," said the boy. "Just listen."
She did hear it then--soft at first, but growing louder by the second. There were strange sounds in the distance, some of them high and unfamiliar. Birds? Madison couldn't be sure. Beyond that, there was something else, what sounded like rushing water, like a river. Her heartbeat quickened.
The boy laughed, her expression having obviously given her away. "It's okay," he said, "you can open your eyes now. Just don't fall off the swing."
Despite his warning, Madison almost did just that.
The park was gone; the trees, the picnic tables, the rest of the playground equipment, all of it. The green grass was now a broad patch of deep blue and canary yellow plants; flowers perhaps, albeit very small ones. Gone, too, were the towering elms, replaced by a long row of squat trees with rust-colored bark and metallic-looking leaves, gold one second, orange the next. Even the sand beneath Madison's swing had changed, the light brown grains now a soft shade of pink, like salmon ground to powder. The only thing even remotely familiar was the wind and rain against her cheeks as she swung back and forth, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Her street had become a river, her house a charming little cottage with a steep thatched roof and a multicolored awning over the door. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.
Or a painting.
"You okay?"
Without even realizing it, Madison had let herself slow to a complete stop. She turned from the alien landscape and looked at the boy. "He's here, isn't he?" she said. "My brother."
The boy nodded, and then gestured to the cottage across the river. "He's inside," he said. "Waiting."
Mistaking it for an invitation, Madison immediately let go of the chains and slid forward, already imaging what she might say to him after so long.
"No, don't!" the boy exclaimed, raising his hands in warning. "It's gonna stop soon."
Madison paused, the tips of her rubber boots just inches above the sand.
"The rain," he continued, answering her unspoken question. "If you're not on the swing when it stops, you'll be stuck here."
Ignoring the last, Madison looked back to the cottage. "But you said he was waiting..."
"For me," the boy explained. "It's okay if I get off, because I was born here. I only have to be careful on the other side. That's why I waited for you in the park."
"Oh," said Madison, feeling as though something inside her had popped. "Is he...is he watching?"
The boy winced. "I hope not," he said. "I wasn't supposed to bring you across. I was just supposed to deliver a message."
Madison licked her lips and swallowed hard. Her mouth had gone completely dry. "A message?" she asked. It felt like her mind was being pulled in a hundred different directions at once.
The boy nodded. "He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry he didn't say goodbye. He was going to that night, but he thought you would try to stop him."
The words left Madison cold. It had never occurred to her that her brother might have left knowing that he wouldn't be back. But how did he get here? How did he know? She continued to stare at the cottage, giving voice to neither question. Rain was running down her cheeks.
"He didn't want me to bring you because he was scared you might get off the swing, that you might decide to stay. The way I figure it, though, you at least deserved to see where he ended up." He offered a lopsided smile and shrugged, then turned his gaze to the lightening sky.
Madison sat in silence for a moment, letting it all sink in. Justin was right; she was more than a little tempted to just jump off the swing right now and let the chips fall where they may. She could never leave her mother, though. It was bad enough already with Justin being gone.
She looked up the clouds. They were breaking now.
"I know," the boy said, his tone sympathetic. "It's too bad you couldn't at least visit for a while. My name's Callio, by the way."
Despite her sadness at not being able to see her brother, Madison managed a half-hearted smile in return. "So Justin's your...friend?" she asked uncertainly. For some reason, it didn't seem to fit.
A hundred rays of sunshine seemed to puncture the clouds all at once, setting the blue and yellow field aglow.
Callio smiled, holding his hand out to the few random droplets still falling. "Not exactly," he said.
She would have questioned him further, but he cut her off before she got the chance.
"There was this one time it rained for a whole week straight," he said, "but that was back before I was born, so I don't remember. My dad said we had all sorts of visitors coming and going from the other side. From your world, I mean."
Madison had just enough time for one last look at the cottage before the watercolor world blurred out of focus. In the blink of an eye, she was back in the park, the familiar greens and browns looking dull now by comparison. The boy was gone.
She leapt from the swing and sprinted for home, mud and water arcing out from the back of her boots with every step.
She'd just reached the sidewalk when she noticed her mother standing in the window. Had it been any other day, she might have slowed at the thought of the tongue-lashing she knew she was in for, but after where she'd been and what she'd seen, she didn't care if her mother grounded her for life, just so long as she listened this time.
"Mom!" she yelled as she opened the door. She kicked off her boots and ran into the kitchen. "Mom!"
Her mother turned at the sound of her voice, a soft smile on her face. "I know, sweetie," she said calmly. "I know."
Madison stopped dead, and might have slid across the linoleum were it not for the fact that her socks were drenched.
Her mother turned back to the window, her shoulders heaving with a sigh. "I used to love those swings," she said.
©Kurt Kirchmeier
Kurt was born and raised in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (Canada), and comes from a large family of two brothers and five sisters. When he isn't lost in his own imagination, he enjoys landscape photography and quiet evenings with his fiancee and their moonstruck cat, Prophet.