Mirrors The surface of the pool was so still, it may have been a mirror. The reflections of intertwined branches high above criss-crossed the surface, and from one hung a girl. Her fingertips dug like claws into the branch, sap oozing under her nails like the blood of a conquered victim. Dangling just inches above the mirror-surface were her toes, curled slightly and circling in midair as she swung her feet. The air all around was still, the only movement among the leaves was the constant bustling of barely seen insects, the quiet humming of their daily toil the only sound. Yellow-green light filtered down from the canopy high above, shafts of light dancing over the waters surface. She looked down into the pool but could detect nothing other than her own reflection gazing back up at her, as though she were already drowned and pinned under the surface. A challenge had been issued, like a handful of seashells cast among hungry seagulls; eager to attend at first, but none willing to take it up. Swim in the pool. That was it. A few minutes and infinite eternal glory of some variety would be hers, a glowing trophy to her name. But as she stared at the unrevealing water below, she could do nothing but recall tales of beasts that dwelled beneath the mirror; glimmering giant fish with jaws large enough to swallow a person whole; sea serpents with terrible fangs and blind eyes; merfolk with sharp nails and vengeful hearts. The water only winked at her in return, casting the sunlight away once more. Before she could make a move, either to accept her watery grave or to give in and crawl off the branch, searing pain shot through her body like lightning. Her arms lost their grip and she looked up with wide, rolling eyes to see a snake slithering slowly away over the branch, not even glancing back towards the foe it had doomed. But she saw no more before she dropped, down to the mirror and unknown fates, and all colours blurred to one.

Each Star Is A Possibility "Lets go on an adventure." She tosses the idea at me in a manner such as one would not toss a baby. "Yeah, alright," I reply, not paying attention and therefore dropping any imaginary babies in the process. "I'm serious! My brother's car has some gas, and I bet I can steal the keys from his room without him noticing," I sit up, drawn to this idea by the magnet of idiocy. A grin spreads slowly across my face, a spark of excitement igniting my insides at the possibility of Something Different. She takes my expression as consent and in a heartbeat she has flown up the stairs. The fire kindling inside me bursts into full blaze as a door slams above me. Moments later she returns, looking as smug as a swan who has successfully scared all the ducks away from that nice old lady with the bread. From her fingers hang a limp set of car keys, and whether she really is the stealthiest ninja as she so claims or if instead she wimped out and just asked for them, I may never know. It doesn't matter. All I know is that she has taken my hand and we are running out into the biting winter night, feet bare and hearts racing on teenage possibilities, warmed only by the fires within us, to find whatever destiny we could in the star-filled night.

The Islands of Mist Some people say the islands don't exist. They turn their heads away and scoff at the stories, leaving a deaf ear on the legends. But it is such people who will find themselves dragged to the islands, quite by surprise, when they are too old to blame it on childhood imagination. The islands are real. Our heroes know it - they have lost people to it - so that is where they sail. It takes endless days and considerable jam sandwiches to reach the Islands of Mists but soon they are casting anchor in the Bay of Mystery (no one has ever told them the names of these places, but as explorers the duty has fallen to them). A dense cloud swirls around the island, from the foam of the waves up to an unimaginable point on the sky. No shape nor size of the challenge they are about to undertake can be formed, but our heroes know the journey will be of great importance. Cautiously one foot leaves the safety of the boat and is placed on the sand, tendrils of fog reaching out to embrace it. Step by step, inch by inch, they move together into the unknown. The weight of the air is unimaginable - the thick clouds embrace them, filling their ears like cotton wool. It is dark too, as it swallows all of the light hungrily. Hand in hand they struggle onwards, pressing through fog so thick a knife would barely mark it. A bone chilling cold flows trough them, starting at the boots and slowly curling up their ankles, legs, stomach, griping tightly to their hearts and filling them with fear. Every nerve is screaming for them to run, but they must press on, they must! For those who are lost here do not know they can leave. Our heroes must struggle on in order to rescue those they have loved. A few minutes (or perhaps hours, the pressure of that fog dims all the senses) later the mist begins to thin. Towering trees as large as buildings fade into sight, curling vines and sweeping branches obscure the canopy overhead. With the freedom of senses returning to them, our heroes are now able to hear the "drrm, drrm" that permeatesthe forest, a low, heavy note, similar to a heartbeat. A breeze sighs softy through the trees, but it is too high above them to move the mist or dry the cold sweat from their brows. A long, low growl emits from the mist, echoing around them, coming from everywhere and nowhere. A frosty chill rushes through their blood, and our heroes begin to run, aimlessly, hopelessly, trying to keep sight of one another as they attempt to navigate the monstrous trees. The growl comes again, this time only at their heels and they speed up, urging one another not to stumble with quick, panicked breaths. A cave! A shelter perhaps? Our foolhardy heroes are now too afraid of the possibilities of the forest to contemplate the fears of the darkness. In they run, splashes marking their entrance as they crash through puddles and leap over rocks, plunging deeper and deeper into the cavern. Soon all is darkness again and they stand, back to back and with their hands on wooden swords, scarcely breathing in fear that The Thing would find them. It is only then that they hear the humming. It is not threatening, like the growl, but rather spiritual. Notes spiral and harmonise with one another, rising and falling in elegant crescendos and diminuendos. Enthralled, the hapless heroes continue down the cave passageway, following nothing but their ears and hearts. They gasp as a light suddenly hits their faces; a cool, serene light, that glows in the centre of an underground cavern. Orbs of green and blue pulse gently around the walls, and in the centre of the space are all the people out heroes have ever loved, and many more besides. Dropping their wooden swords they run forward to wrap themselves in arms once so nurturing, tears brimming in their eyes. Tugging on hands they beg to leave, urging the others to follow them back up the path they had came. But it is too late. The labyrinth has closed and the Cavern of Souls is sealed once more, with an additional number of victims. For the Islands are always there, at the edge of your vision, waiting to tempt you and swallow you alive.