Author'sNote: this is inspired by the music of Eisley, but it is not a song fic (i.e., the lyrics are not posted up.) You do not have to listen to the band to understand this story, not in the slightest, butI suggest you listen anyway because:

a) they're a great band

b) you'll be able to see where I got my ideas, and understand some references. It might lead to a more nuanced understanding, as sometimes I insert lyrics and just knowing the band's style will give you an idea of what the story will be like.

You can go to the amazon website and check out the reviews and sample some of their music to find out.

Full Summary:

Sandra is a little girl who's trying to grow up, and later a young lady who'll never grow up, and just continue playing make-believe. Her life is irrevocably when she finds two people/spirits/robots who sure her the city on stilts. Drama (in the beginning), Adventure (in the middle), Romance (at the end), PG-13 for swearing.

Chapter One: Memories,

Or, God's Wicked Play

He was throwing grain to the ground below when it happened. A sudden pain in his chest, a tingling arm, and he was on the ground and unable to speak. Sandra had simply stood there, her eyes trembling into discs the size of dinner plates, unable to think.

"Amy—" Andy managed to gasp out. "Get Amy—"

"Daddy?" The six-year-old had never read the big books on Andy's shelf, books of diseases and treatments. He hadn't either.

"Get Mommy—ah—ah-ah-ah!" Gusts of wind, multiplying by the second, blew his cap up to reveal a pallid face.

"Daddy!" Was her dad…crying? No, not even the biggest boo-boo could possibly

"Ah!" He had fallen over into a wildly blowing patch of wheat, the dirt mixing easily into his similarly colored hair as another wind punched the cap straight off his head. Sandra couldn't see or hear, with a thick mass of wheat—or was it her long, golden-colored hair?—fanning into her face and a roar of wind in her ears.

"Andy!" Was that her mother? Was the person on the ground her father? If it was, if this wasn't a dream, then the other scene must have been, where he had been smiling and throwing grain to the birds and the wheat was only a calm sea.

"Andy! No!"

"Get him inside, you daft thing!" Ah, yes. That was Mary.

"So you see why I must leave, Mrs. Grandpré."

"Yes, Mary. I can see why someone might be uncomfortable…"

"Ooh, terribly! Really, I shan't work where death lurks; bad luck abounds!"

Amy stood in the middle of the wheat field, with a sharpened sense of sight and sound. Sandra was still full of questions; the newest one was concerned with how Mary was planning to leave their farm with only a carpetbag, an umbrella, and a pair of feet with which to walk to the ten miles on to the nearest other house.

"Well, then, good-bye. It's been great fun taking care of Sandy—well, except the end—but I really must fly." Was she going to try a Mary Poppins type of exit?

"Good-bye…" The wind was coming back, throwing a thousand strands of golden hair and less-golden wheat around her face.

Mary turned her backs to them and scurried off, preparing in her mind a full account of the grisly, exciting death. In a few hours the villagers would learn a story full of love, betrayal, suicide, etc. etc. Amy would ignore the three for the sake of her daughter (but really for herself) and try to move on, simply sewing the seeds as she normally did, with out thinking of motives for the heart attack aside from an act in God's wicked play. Sandra would simply sift through the next few months in confusion, until God or a teacher granted her the ability to look them up in the encyclopedia. Maybe that would help.