'Tis a bleak night that descends upon the grove. Whispers through the leaves, murmurs of a greater meaning. Darting shadows provide a hint of life, but of what kind? Intentions are jumbled, darkness battling with light.
Darkness is prevailing.

Distant howls puncture the illusion of calm. Closer, always coming closer, I can feel their gaze. Smaller beings disperse, refuge in numbers. They need not worry, I am the subject. Beginning to run, realisation sets in.
There is nowhere to run to.

Hiding is of no significance, they can smell my fear. I have not laid eyes upon them, never will. They have won, will only reveal themselves to eyes welded shut. I dare not gaze upon the eyes of fate.
I dare not gaze into my reflection.

-Gaz