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The criminal darted out from behind the back of the building, looked both way and ran into the dark of the night.

It was a lovely night. The moon was out though it could hardly be seen through the dense mist and city lights. City lights that obscured everything. There was a couple leaning against a car, whispering to one another and occasionally kissing (”Oh how happy we are”). There was a drunk man walking around mumbling things which could not be understood by anyone, maybe not even him. He held his arms out and beckoned for something, who knows what (”Oh how sad I am”). There was a beautiful girl, walking down the street with eyes made of solid granite and clothes which fit her perfectly looking up at a loft high above. She was observing the furniture and interior of the loft, astonished by the decadence and style of the layout (”Oh how lucky they are”). There was a young boy walking down the street, listening to his music, eyes glued to the ground; contemplating. He counted every step he took and fiddled with something of a square shape in his pocket (”Oh how distracted I am”). There was an older gentleman sitting under an umbrella in front of a cafe which had been closed for hours, sipping occasionally on a cup of tea and reading a book by an obscure author. Casually he would look at these people and think to himself, “Oh how wonderful we are.”

Pity that no one could offer an answer.

Storm clouds and strange weather formations are usually frightful news to birds, airplanes, really anything that spends a lot of time up in the air. These two birds, however absolutely loved to dart up and down through the arcus clouds. They loved to dip and dive through the most ominous of forming condensation funnels. Danger was something that not only did they find they loved, but they loved together.

How could this story possibly have a positive outcome? Two daredevils who spent their time flashing their underbellies at monsters that could consume them at any moment. The very ether that they perch so lightly on with their delicate wings could strike them down like a baker shop owner shaking the crumbs off of his well traveled welcome mat. Well this story does not end well, but I’ll tell you how it did, finally, end.

On one fantastically windy day near the banks of Lake Michigan the little red chickadee while looking for windy pockets high in the atmosphere found a cloud which was so dense and so powerful that he had to challenge it. He screamed to the other, “Come play with me in this deep pillow, come dive into these fierce and wicked winds!”

Naturally the other, a beautiful sparrow with deep blue feathers that cast the pouring rain off as though they were made of steel, came immediately and seeing the immense size of this cloud he nearly lost his balance with excitement. Together they entered the cloud, pushing hard off a wind gust which was so strong it could almost be mistaken for solid ground. As they passed through the outer layer of the cloud the red chickadee lost sight of the shimmering blue of his friend, he called out but strangely heard no call back.

As it so happens this was not the blue sparrow’s day, immediately after entering the cloud he had gotten cocky and tried to perform a beautiful spin in the cloud. He knew how the little red chickadee loved seeing him rotate smoothly through the strong gusts of wind. Unfortunately just as he started the maneuver directly in front of him was a terrible pocket of wind which tossed and threw him, bending back several of his feathers which were crucial to his flight.

Obviously he fell immediately and by the time the red chickadee’s cry reached him he was coming down hard in the shallow waters near the banks of the lake. Due to the high wind that day with the second wave that hit him, he was crushed against the jagged stones which lined the banks of Lake Michigan. This was the last cloud that the red chickadee ever flew in and every time he sees other birds daring the clouds he yells to them and complains. He warns them that even the air that you trust can strike you down, even the thing that seems to keep you afloat can backfire, reducing you to nothing more than a stone, falling hard where ever it might choose to throw you.