Hear me, all of you. You who hide in the whispers of the wind, up in the attic or down below in the basement. You who lurk in my closet, under the stairs, in the creaking woodfloors and behind my windows. You who make noises in the dark, bring forth strange visions behind the curtains and drag chains across the floor. Eyes in the black. Teeth in the night. Claws at the witching hour. Hear me.
I am a child. I don't carry the weight of an adult heart, and know very little about consequences. I can still fly and run faster than time. I run on mischief and a spark of madness. I live with reckless bravery and play nonsensical games. I am still of both light and darkness, and creation and destuction act on my every whim. I have faced monsters, escaped impossible labyrinths and conquered trials untold. I have saved the realms of men and Fae from such horrors you wouldn't dare to understand. You may think me small, weak and harmless. You'd be wrong. This wooden sword has the keenest edge. I know ancient rhymes and words of power. This blanket can turn invisible at will. This cushion is an unbreakeable barrier. I have been a warrior, a wizard, a rogue. I have ridden dragons and beasts, danced on fire and earth and wind and water.
I am an innocent, and my imagination is sword and shield, cloak and armor, magic and medicine. The world tells me there is something to fear walking among us. I agree.
You should all be terrified of me.
