You know at the end of the day, when you close the door and you’re all alone… And you strip off your armor and lower your guard and peel away the mask… When there’s nobody watching and nothing to hide… And you no longer need to be strong or clever or pretty or brave… There’s just you. That’s it. That’s the soul.
there’s whispers around town about the two boys who live in the forrest. the locals will talk about them with their eyes cast downward and their voices hushed, worried that they would hear them.
there would be moments, in the dead of night, that shrieks will pierce the hot. humid air and people will shudder.
they’ll warn the foolish tourists who come to their town, seeking out the two boys who makes their home in the woods and they’ll tell them to watch out, beware.
beware of the boy with gold in his eyes because if you see him then the one with emeralds won’t be too far behind.
and if you see him, your shrieks will fill the night air, shouts and pleas for help and the locals will turn their heads, ignoring the way that goosebumps rise on their flesh and pretend that they don’t have two witches who haunt their town.