...ong time ago my grandmother told me a fairy tale. People claimed it not to be meant for children, and I knew why. Once my grandma shared me this story, I couldn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t help but get out of bed and look around for any creatures lurking in the dark. Sadly, every time I did, I found nothing which only made it worse.
Here’s how the story went:
I walked outside, and as a six year old, I was frightened from shadows of the night. I glanced around nervously, with my dark blue eyes, and surveyed my surroundings. My pitch black long curly hair was down to my back. It wasn’t too long, you just wouldn’t consider it to be short.
“Grandma?” I called out, wishing to hear her old, welcoming voice that always calmed my nerves.
“In here, child.” She called, from a few feet away. I walked forth, blinded by the darkness and entered the clearing of our houses backyard. There, she sat, right by the campfire and she was staring into the flames; almost hypnotized looking.
I ran to her and hugged her for dear life . She softly stroked my soft hair with her leathery ones. Her pale old woman’s hands usually frightened me, but this time, they comforted me. We looked a lot alike. She, too, had pitch black hair that was long. The only thing was hers was really long. About twice as long as mine. She was petite and seemed to grow shorter. I...