But what if the winds that moves the leaves are just the ghosts swinging from the branches. Each pump sways the limbs, sways each individual leaf. An innocent child, [opaque] and alone, swinging to and fro, reminiscing on a childhood he was robbed of. A lonely little boy, sitting on a swing that ceases to exist, peering below at the children having fun. 'Enjoy this while it lasts', He wants to tell the kids. 'I was once like you'. He wanted so bad for the children to hear him, but his ghastly screams were [blocked] by the veil that hangs along his loneliness. And so just as when he was a true, living boy, his pleas and cries for help were trapped within his thoughts. All he wanted was to not be so lonely. He liked to watch the children play below him, free of corruption and filled with innocence and youth. But it made him sad; he wanted to play with them too. And then it made him angry. He became angrier. If he had a form, his face would be turning red. Red and hot like the flames of hell. But he was nothing no longer, just a lonely little boy lingering amongst the trees, whose slight kicks and pumps cause the trees to sway to and fro. He gets angrier. Angrier. He pumps and pumps until the roots of the tree unearth and fly forward, sending the tree tumbling towards the ground. Towards the children. Screams. Children, crushed by the trunk, a [wail] for help, and silence. More screams, parents and nannies and onlookers, running to their children, unable to identify one blurred and [charred] face from the next. The little boy, sitting On a swing above that doesn't really exist, can help but smile. Then he laughs. He laughs harder, harder. He is doubled over. And then he hears someone say to him, 'why are you laughing so hard'? There was [innocence] in this girl's voice. The boy smiles again, and tells her to look below, look and the trunk of the tree lying over her, over her friends. She screams and cries and beckons to her mother, who still can't find her mangled body. 'They won't hear you', the boy says, nobody past the veil will. Tears form In the girl's eyes, and in the eyes of the boy that stands beside her, too. Tears fall faster, with great force. Below, the street gets rained upon and the the mothers and nannies and onlookers fall to their knees in despair. The little boy looks at the girl and then to her friend, I was so lonely before you came here'.