Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Bridget. She liked to play and have a good time as much as the next person, however there was always a black cloud over her head...following her everywhere she went...raining on her. No matter where she was or what she did, the black cloud was there. Sometimes the rain was nothing more than a light drizzle, other times it was a heavy downpour...but it was always there. It clouded over everything she did. But this little girl was strong. She fought against the doom and gloom. She struggled against the unhappiness that followed her and tried to make her unhappy. Sometimes she was able to hold it back for long periods of time, but other times..*sigh* Other times she thought she would never be able to cope.

One day, not so very long ago, Bridget was walking along the side of the road...stopping now and then to explore the world around her. It was a beautiful day, but Bridget couldn't see that. The cloud was still there, raining on her and making her feel chilly in spite of the shining sun. She would stop walking and look intently at some little thing or another, wonder where it came from, why it was there, how long it had set there undisturbed. She kicked at the gravel on the side of the road as she walked. Lots of footprints, she noticed. Lots of people had traveled this way. As she walked, she hummed herself a tune...trying to cheer herself up. If she kept trying, the rain wouldn't get any harder...any colder. But when she tired of trying to be happy, that's when the rain would be relentless. She knew from experience that she had to keep trying.

Bridget looked around her. Nothing much to see. She had walked a long ways. She was far from anything familiar. It was with a small shock that she realized she hadn't seen any homes or buildings of any kind for some time. Just fields of wild flowers, and grass as tall as herself. It was truly beautiful here. Bridget wondered, as she often did, what it would feel like to bask in the sun for once. She never had. The closest she had come was when the rain was a misty drizzle. It wasn't the same, and she knew it.

The little girl turned and walked backward for a minute. "That's where I've been," she thought to herself. Nothing much to see. No reason to go back there. She kept walking backward, thinking of what she had left behind. She felt a pang of sadness at the thought of all the times back there when she had let the rain really get control over her. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. With renewed determination, she turned around and kept walking.

The road curved a bit to the left. She continued her walking, kicking at stones...plucking an occasional blade of grass to chew on. As she neared the bend in the road, she noticed the pavement ended. The road still stretched before her, but it was dirt now. "Huh!" thought Bridget. She looked down at the sand and dirt on the side of the road. Still footprints, but less of them.

Curious now,she walked a bit faster, letting her mind follow it's own path...her thoughts speeding up to match her footsteps. She wondered where this road would lead her. She really had no hope of anything ever changing for her, but she wondered just the same. When she reached the end of the paved section of road, she hesitated only a moment. "How many people go this far?" she thought to herself. "Do most people get discouraged and turn around?" She let the thought evolve a moment, looking for footprints on the dirt road. There were a few. Not many.

Bridget loved adventure and excitement. She loved to discover new things. She resolved that if there were less footprints here, then whatever lay ahead would be less disturbed by other people. Less convoluted, less affected by others. It was that thought that led her to take that first step onto the dirt road. She liked the crunchy grinding sound that her footsteps made. It was the only sound she could hear. It was strangely comforting to her. She looked up at her cloud. Still there. She thought again, as she often did, that no matter how far she walked, no matter where she went, it would follow. It had no limits. Well, then neither would she...she would keep walking.

After shuffling along a ways, she stopped and looked around her again. The beauty of this place was amazing She wondered who owned it, and where they were now. If SHE herself owned such a lovely place, she would be there right now...enjoying it all. "Some people just don't realize what they have," she said aloud. The flowers were taller here...prettier...more colorful it seemed. The sun shone brighter, the birds sang louder and longer. "This must be what heaven is like," she thought.

It was then that she saw it. She almost missed it, but there it was. A tiny little shack, dilapidated and sad looking. It was overgrown with vines of morning glories. Camouflaged, but there just the same. It was pretty far off the road. She wanted to keep walking, but her curiosity was overwhelming. She hadn't seen a building of any kind for miles. Who would put a building all the way out here, all alone, then let it go to waste? Bridget felt a gentle tingle in her tummy. She knew she had to go investigate.

There was a huge field between herself and the shack. She pushed the flowers and grass aside...marveling that there wasn't even the tiniest hint of a path leading to this structure. She pressed on. As she drew closer, she saw that the door wasn't even closed all the way. "Whoever left must have left in a hurry," she thought.

Finally, she was standing in front of the tiny building. She looked it up and down...nothing remarkable about it. She walked all the way around it. One tiny window. "What a strange thing," Bridget said to herself. She stood there a moment, wondering if she dared enter. Obviously no one had been here for a long time, but she still felt funny about poking around. She looked around her. Nothing but flowers and grass and trees and sunshine. She felt like she was being watched. She scanned the horizon, but saw nothing to explain her feeling. "Must be my imagination," she thought. She stepped to the door, squatted down, and peered in.

"OH!" she yelped, falling backwards. She scrambled away quickly. Eyes! She had seen eyes looking right at her. Just on the other side of the door! She turned and ran, expecting to be yelled at or chased. When neither of those things happened, she stopped. She turned around and eyed the building with renewed interest. How could there really have been someone inside there? The door was cracked open, but overgrown with vines. It was silly. It wasn't possible. Was it?

Bridget went back to the door. Standing this time, ready to run again, she peeked inside. The light from the one small window allowed her to see what was inside. She covered her mouth in surprise. There was a boy inside! He was sitting on a bed, knees pulled to his chest, face buried in his arms. He was sobbing for all he was worth. Bridget watched for a moment, then walked over to the window so she could see better.

Stepping up on a log, she once again peeked inside. There he was. Wiping his wet face on the sleeve of his shirt every so often. He would cry and cry, then wipe his eyes, then look at the door. He would watch for a minute, then cry again. What was he looking for? Her? Was he watching for her? Eventually, the boy regained his composure and scooted off the bed. He went to the door and looked through the crack. He gave the door a gentle push. When it didn't budge, the boy sat down again in front of the crack and sniffled. He leaned forward and took a deep breath, then leaned his head on the wall by the door and cried softly.

Bridget knew that kind of sadness. She still had her cloud. But she had learned to hold it back somewhat. She stepped off the log and thought about what she had just seen. He hadn't pushed on the door very hard, as though he had tried a hundred times before and didn't expect it to ever change. Did he know that it was just flowers holding him in? One hard push would set him free. Just flowers, she thought. Who would think it?

She stepped back up on the log. "Hey," she said, "Hey you!" The boy spun around in shock and fear. When he saw Bridget's face in the window, he quickly wiped his face on his sleeve again. "Hey" he said dejectedly. "What do you want?" He hadn't meant that to sound so harsh. Trying to soften it a bit, he smiled. It was the saddest smile Bridget had ever seen. But it warmed her. It warmed her like sunshine, from the inside out.

"Why you cryin?" she asked him. "I'm not cryin," he said. "See?" he smiled wider. Bridget knew that trick. She called it 'fake it till you make it.'

"You were so cryin," she said with a stern face. "You live in the most beautiful place I've ever seen! What you got to cry 'bout?" The little boy sighed. He turned and looked at the door again, then back at the face in the window. "I want to go outside. I want to be like everyone else. I can't get out."

Bridget giggled. "It's just flowers, silly!" she said. The little boy looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "What are yu talking about?" he asked her. "The only thing holding that door closed is flowers. Give it a push...it should open."

The little boy stared at her a minute. "It's not flowers, girlie...it's all locked up tight," he explained. Bridget was shocked. What was he talking about? "My name's not girlie, it's Bridget. What's yours?"

"My name is Kevin," said Kevin. "What's wrong with you? Something?" "What do you mean?" Bridget asked, slightly offended. "The only thing holding you in is silly ol' flowers! I can see 'em." Kevin took a deep breath. "I will try again to explain it to you. Look at this place." Bridget looked around. "It's a prison cell. There are bars on the window, and lots of locks on the door."

"What??" Bridget exclaimed. "Bars on the window? Locks on the door?? What are you talking about???"

Kevin wasn't liking this. Something was wrong here. He walked over to the door and gave it another shove. "See? Locked. I don't know what I did that was so bad, but I am locked in and I will never get out, I know it." Bridget could sort of understand thinking the door was locked, but bars on the window? There wasn't ANYTHING on the window, not even glass! She decided to focus on that.

"But there are no bars on the window, Kevin," she said gently. "See?" She waved her arm back and forth in the square window she was looking through. Kevin's eyes bulged. "How did you do that??" he asked. "Wow, are you magic?"

"No, silly. There aren't any bars here!" Bridget was glad to be making some progress. Her gladness was short-lived. Kevin walked over to the bed. He stood on it and looked out the window. "There are BARS here," he said. "I can see them. I can feel them. They are there." He demonstrated by grabbing the bars and shaking himself silly. Bridget laughed hard at the sight of Kevin, two fists in midair, shaking and shaking himself. Then it occurred to her...he actually believes it! "Maybe they are only there because you believe they are there," she offered. "Maybe they really aren't."

Kevin stopped shaking himself for a minute and fixed her with a steady gaze. "And maybe you can't see them because you DON'T believe they are there," he said evenly.

Bridget thought about that. It made sense. "Only one way to find out, climb on out here." She stepped back off the log and waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened. She stepped back onto the log. Kevin was holding the "bars" and shaking for all he was worth.

"What are you doing? Just climb out!" she said, exasperated. "I tried," he told her. "I bumped my head. It was silly anyways. Trying to climb through bars."

Bridget had enough of this nonsense. "Then I will climb in," she said. "Move out of the way."

Kevin stood there on the bed. "Are you crazy? If I can't climb through bars, neither can you. And who would want to come in here anyways?" "I said MOVE!" Bridget said with more force. Kevin took a teeny tiny step back. He didn't see any need to move, she wouldn't be able to get in anyways.

But there she came...head first, then struggling on her tummy...head in, legs out...kicking. "Well, take my arms and pull!" she said to him, gasping for air.

Kevin just stared, backing up further and further until he was off the bed and across the room, standing against the wall...still trying to back up. Bridget finally tumbled into the room, landing on the bed. "See? No bars!" she said.

"How did you DO that?" Kevin asked in amazement. "The question isn't how, it's why...and why I did that is to help you get out. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Kevin panicked. "I don't know. I'm not ready. I didn't mean right NOW...I don't know. Oh my gosh. Now???" Kevin as running in a small circle in the tiny room. Bridget stopped him.

"If you would feel better, we can wait a bit. Let's just talk and you and you can decide later."

And so they did. They talked for hours. Bridget explaining why she had a cloud over her head, even indoors. Kevin explaining that he had never known anything other than this room. When they ran out of things to say, Bridget sighed. "It's time, Kevin. It's now or never."

"You say it's just flowers? You're sure?"

"Just believe it, Kevin. That's all it takes. That, and a big shove." They walked to the door together.

"Okay," said Kevin. "I will try."