Every year, when a Fairy turns eighteen, he or she must do something unforgivable, endure emotional and physical trails that will change them forever and ultimately come out a different thing all together, with beautiful feathered wings and crystalline blemishes, it’s the dream.

But every time a Fairy goes off, into the darkness of the night, shrouded in the forest (usually) forbidden, hidden behind a garden of thorns marked with letgal poisons, you can see that happy, childish light? Is no longer behind their rainbow eyes.

Now it’s my turn, I don’t know what awaits me above rumors and whispers, I’ve said my goodbyes to my family and now the forest glares its terrible eyes into my soul.

Me, bare backed, skinny, quiet, blonde Samuel who wouldn’t survive sticks and stones let alone whatever awaits here.

I shiver under the cold night, take one step forward to the dark oaks, patterns and shapes on them twist and turn the closer I get, the poisonous thorns lead a pathway me, fireflies blinking under the night sky, whispering: _Come on in._

__

One step becomes two and two becomes four until I’m along the pathway, I hear the brambles close up behind me.__

_ I am engulfed in the forest._