I have always been afraid of the dark. It’s an embarrassing phobia for a girl of twenty-four, but it’s real nonetheless.
The one place that reminds me of this fear most is a long and straight walking path that leads from my grandfather’s house to my most favorite hiding place in all the world. This path, shrouded by a wood, seems to stretch with every step I take. The trees, which always look so beautiful from a far, grow tall and menacing as I draw near, casting dark and cruel shadows that tease and mock me as I struggle to place one foot in front of the other in search of my salvation.