Ryan's Story

In my heart I see the children who have long been forgotten. Gathering here at this place, they join in reverie together. They are running, screaming and playing happily–and yet when you listen you can hear only the sound of the cool breeze moving restlessly through the trees. You cannot hear the many children surrounding you, nor can you see them; but you can feel them. You can feel their bubbling laughter as they soar towards the cloudless sky on the rusty, abandoned swings. You can hear their tears when they fall swiftly back to the hard earth underfoot. This is their haven. This is where they will not be forgotten, for they are together here, and no one can forget his brother. Children from all walks of life gather here when they are no longer welcome among those they used to know. Some have scars and bruises that will never heal, and others have no memories of the ones who loved them. They all gather here, from the tiniest newborn baby to the young man, almost too old to be associated with this place, but held here all the same, frozen in time in a world unseen by searching eyes.
I can feel the man sitting not too far off, looking through the window that is invisible to me. He sees everyone but cannot feel them, just as we feel him, yet cannot see. A crow calls mournfully on this side of the portal, but the hidden children hear it not and go on about their play. We, on this side, hear a sickening crash and the wail of an ambulance, but the children who are unseen simply welcome their new playmate without a word or pause, because no one ever asks questions they already know the answers to.