Long, delicate fingers finish turning the small brass key, and the balding bowed head smiles and sighs softly. Gently placing the little construct on the wooden floor, his hands absentmindedly dance in anticipation. The moment of the creation's first steps is celebrated by the sun, which floods the room with warmth, and the magical glow of dust motes that dance in the light that pierces the cracks in the stone walls and the large pewter paned windows open to the outdoors. And with a tinkle skrinch tinkle brass and silver and steel whirl into motion, ruby eyes aglow and twinkling. The newborn creation circles the room in a spinning dance, making old walls, rafters, and floorboards seem to stretch out their legs for a long pleasant journey ahead. As the dance spirals to the center of the room and the cluster of bits of precious metals comes to a halt, it bows to its father and raises two small arms skyward. The clouds on old grey eyes melt away to reveal vibrant pools of blue, and the wrinkles deepen as a smile settles into its familiar place. The sparkling dust seems to congeal into a slowly cycling funnel with the small mechanical arms forming the point of its base, and blueskies and green grass in an Elysian meadow bordered by oaks and maples begin come into view, as the color comes to a field as a cloud departs. And a tale begins...

A light giggle twinkles and young dark eyes flash beneath her father's grey hat. Silk covered only by a commandeered white shirt whose sleeves would devour her were they not rolled up in a bundle about the soft white elbow. Lipstick leaves its mark as the light delicate smoldering thing is placed between her lips and she inhales. Flashing eyes are flooded and the look of elegance departs with an explosion of acrid smoke and wheezy laughter, accompanied by three other barks of hysteria. Spilling a run of three hearts and a pair of aces onto the table, her laughter regains its youth and smoothness. The red canned coke teeters in the wake of smooth young feet leaving the tabletop, having forgotten style and seeking the green grass, obligated to support the adolescent bodies wracked with chiming and twittering songs of humor. One looses a large, black shoe in seeking the ground. Surely the shoe, worn only to business and church was indignant at so much bare skin, such scandalous whispers, the smoke, the cards, the youth...
The smoke dissipated with a short, soft breeze that caused the loosely hung, unbuttoned shirts to flow around each of the slender forms that they cover, and a black hat was almost lifted from the thick, lively brown locks upon which it had rested. The laughter subsided into smiles, and six adventurous young eyes lock onto the still-wet deep brown eyes of the forth. An eager, secretive whisper comes forth, "How was it?"
"Terrible!"
And the small burning offender is jammed into the virgin crystal ashtray as the laughter peals and rings across the sunlit meadow, butterflies seeming to float to the different rythms.
"What's going on in there?" Sounds the amusemed voice of authority.
Immediately pink and light blue and purple plastic, ribbons and photograph-bordered mirrors and papers and compact discs and four white walls stare in suspense at the dark door, four pairs of eyes widening, and a dismissive, sweet voice replies "Nothing."
And conspiratory, knowing smiles are exchanged as an affirming "Okay, but try to keep it down in there. I love you sweetie" covers the sound of footsteps receeding down the hall