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We went to the darkest places to explore our fear, the alleys and the cemeteries where the trees were thickest and the light dwindled to nothing. We did not go alone walking on the cusp of bravery but led each other dare upon dare to breech each chasm. We knew the day and the places that lay in the periphery of our courage. But the night brought us fright served on trays of vulnerability, teasing us with magnifications of sound and dimness of vision, feeding and freeing the spark of imagination into flames of fear. Children have within themselves the greater fires of the dragons mouth and seeds of whispered voices with words of darker deeds. What lies within much worse than what is real. For all the evils ever wrought are children born from the same potential mother. The spark of imagination that creates both Gods and Devils. The place where we are awakened to answer the call of our own memorized voices. With borrowed courage we become the green of newer grasses, grown around empty bronze helmets long fallen to the ground.

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