The Wisp and AI Art

# Segment from the Wisp  Gentle gusts blew through layers of whispering leaves. Those with the lightest grip let go and cut red and gold traces through the air. They settled soundlessly on the pavement below. Above a low-hanging sun shared the sky with a pale crescent that had just crested the horizon. A morning moon at dusk, her mother called it. It was a lovely evening but Bara walked alone. Not another living soul, an empty town at a time when the residents of Windfall were usually rushing home for dinner. How strange? But then there was an insistent tug on her sleeve. Not alone after all. She looked down. A girl of four or five years old looked back up. She wore a red pea coat with a matching beret. Curls not far off the shade of Bara’s own strawberry blonde scooped down and brushed her collar. Dark glasses with white frames—heart shaped—hid her eyes. She said nothing, but a tear escaped from below a plastic rim and trailed down a plump cheek. “Are you lost?” Bara asked. “Do you want me to help find your mommy?” The girl nodded and held out her chubby hand. Bara reached out but was jostled from behind before her fingers could take hold. The street was full now. Where had they all come from? A steady stream of men and women pushed and shoved as they passed. Halloween was over. Yet they were all dressed in costumes from the past and wore dark glasses. Bara looked down again. The girl had gone … but not far. She now stood under the shade of an oak tree a few meters away. A tall man, made even taller by a black top hat, had her by the arm. She struggled to get free. Something told Bara he wasn’t her father. A protective spirit surged in her. She fought her way through the crowd and threw her slight, sixteen-year-old body at his massive frame. The man merely stepped back, but he did let go of the girl. “Run!” Bara told her. The girl didn’t hesitate. Her short legs took flight and she disappeared into the crowd. There’d be no escape for Bara. Dark gloved hands reached out and took hold of her shoulders. She looked up, opened her mouth to protest, but never uttered a word. Sudden terror had squeezed her throat shut. Under the brim of the man’s top hat were two empty black holes where his eyes should have been. His eyelids quivered and something—something that shouldn’t be there—rolled inside his skull in waves of oily black and silver. 
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