From the moment I stepped upon the path I knew I was meant to leave it after all, what’s the worth of a warning if it could never come to pass? so I stepped beyond the bricks let my toes impress upon the earth bits of dirt and morning dew clinging to my flesh, my flesh as much earth now as the ground. I tread more lightly in the wood than I would upon the path for there the ground is paved and garish, cracked and strewn with weeds but here the earth abounds with green vines and blossoming flowers of pink and lilac and white, soft yellow like the ethereal bricks of other paths that women were meant to follow. I shall not follow. I shall step freely decide my course, my own way to whatever ends I aim at.
After “Gretel in the Forest,” from Lisa Andrews’ The Inside Room.