They came with the wind that blows in August, thin as a spider web and barely noticed. Three who did not seem to be related to anything but the moon.
One with laughter like tin.
One with eyes of a cat.
One with hands like porcelain.
The baby died. Lucy and Rachel's sister. One night a dog cried, and the next day a yellow bird flew in through an open window. Before the week was over, the baby's fever was worse. Then Jesus came and took the baby with him far away. That's what their mother said.
My knees hurt. Tomorrow it willl rain.
What's your name?
Make a wish. Wish for anything.
As they left I turned around. They smiled and waved in their smokey way. Then they werent seen again. Not once, not twice, not ever again.
When you leave you must remember always to come back.