Stacey
I make my way down my front garden filled with vibrant flowers and twisting vines, Taylor by my side as a wall of guards surround me. I can just see a barricade of black jackets that swallow them whole with broad shoulders as I reach the end of the driveway. There is a sweet fragrance from the flowers and damp earth from the nighttime due. I turn to look at Taylor, who gives me a nod, gesturing for us to go left. I can hear so much chatter and noise from all the guests that it’s a little overwhelming and I’m glad for the formidable line of bodyguards.
We make our way through the woods up towards the pumpkin patch field. A blur of dark greens and browns, the trees tall and imposing, like sentinels guarding their domain. The moonlight filters through the thick branches, casting eerie shadows on the ground. I can see the sharp blades of grass and twigs scattered on the forest floor, unmoving, as we walk forward. I can’t even hear the birds or the twigs snapping beneath my heels as
