Paging Fall, Fall to the weather center, please

*checks calendar*

Yup, it is almost the middle of October. And yet... it's going to be 80 today. What's up with that? Did Summer kidnap Fall? Is fall being held somewhere, bound and gagged, while Summer merrily continues to torment us? Why is no one trying to rescue Fall? And will Winter try to bust on the scene with a city-disabling ice storm as in years past? This is usually about the time those happen, and yet there's been no sign of an impending cold snap.

I like Fall. I'm certainly ready for Fall. So please, if you know anything about the whereabouts of Fall, please call the TIPS hotline at 1-800-WEA-THER. Thank you.

It's the WAR on WEATHER!

By the time he registered the heat, it was too late. His assailant was on him in a flash, smothering him is a hot, damp blanked of air. He pushed at the veil of warmth, but it bore him down, down, down into unconsciousness.

When he awoke, he was disoriented. There was no light, no sound… and no feeling. The nothingness was so complete it negated his very existence. And yet, he thought, he could still think, and still reason. There may yet be hope. Though he had no way of knowing how much time has passed, there might still be time. He might not be too late if he acted quickly.

Groping blindly he reached out and grasped into the emptiness, his outstretched limbs finding the tiniest of twigs. It was faint and indistinct, but it was there. He focused on that twig, forcing the warmth from it and funneling a cooling breeze down its length. He felt the soft, supple leaves begin to harden, wither. Suddenly a hot shaft of air knocked him back. He lost his grasp on the twig and tumbled back into oblivion.

This time he was sure he hadn’t been out for too long. And this time, he would be more cautious. He reached out his senses and caught the rhythm of warmth and light, and only focused his mind when both were at their weakest. Little by little, he extended his influence. Soon he found himself gathering strength, the world around his slowly coming into focus. He went after his assailant but found, to his dismay, she had fled southward. He tried to follow, but the hot currents of air buffeted him and pushed him back every time he tried to advance.

So intent on his goal, he did not notice the cold, icy hand that crept up behind him. With a blast of frigid air, he was once again shoved aside, pushed down into a plane of non-existence. Except, this time he was not alone. In the darkness he found a link to another, like him, existing in the in-between moments. She was kind, and sweet, and nurturing, and in the moments they came together in the unknown prison he was happy. But that time was fleeting, and as they moved towards each other they were unable to stop. The inexorable pull of the seasonal shift yanked them through each other, him to do battle with the scorching heat, her to conquer the frigid cold.