As I sit above my bed. My grandmother, rests on her chair. Her little story book in her hands. Like a simple whisper, hiding in its palms. as I await for her to speak. Anticipating what she might set free. I notice the soft smile. plastered on her face for life. She begins, my heart swelling at the thought. That I am going in that magical world, just the way I like. She starts a tale, of wonder and magic. Hinting to some jokes, maybe within it. The story is about the fairies, Dancing over the woods. Giggling softy and twinkling the goods. The sea, far far away. Wuthering waves betraying it in place. Suddenly ,one fairy stops in track. Her curiosity piqued and the crystal shining in her hand. She voices her thoughts, deliberately. As if something elegant, is whispering delicately. Why do people fear the dark? when it ravels what has been in hide? Why do humans avoid the dark? When all it does, is to open the mind? Hinting to what has been forgotten by time? Carefully kept and finally banished through lives? Why do humans close they're eyes. When they can open it, and see the world without the sun can shine?