Alice gazed at the child on the swing, its red plastic seat cutting a lazy arc

through the still evening air.

      She couldn`t remember now how old she`d been that crisp,

sunny morning as she`d skipped happily towards the swings, her mother`s voice

urging her to wait....
   
       As she watched the  child she felt again the firm, reassuring hands, pushing

her..back and forth..higher and higher. She recalled the squeals of delight, cold air

rushing past her tingling cheeks...higher and still higher..

      She moved closer to the swing, her head inclined, her black-rimmed eyes fixed

on the happy, shrieking child...Back and forth..higher and higher...

       They`d said it was nobody`s fault. A weak link in one of the chains they`d said.

Could have happened at any time..to anyone...

       She bit her lip, feeling the warm blood trickle down the patchwork of mottled pink
skin, her brain shutting out the limp, broken body, the shattered, useless legs...
 
      She began to laugh, quiet, contained laughter, her lidless eyes still fixed on the

slow, rhythmic movement of the swinging child..

       Somewhere high above, a skylark drifted on an unseen breeze, its song

momentarily drowned by a chilling scream  as the swing, its highest point now

reached, begins its inexorable downward flight, and the waiting wheelchair now

standing directly in its path....