She ran down the worn brick path, the red almost completely faded. Surrounded by dead trees and brush, the chill wind whipped through her hair. She could hear rustling coming from deep within the woods. She runs faster, away from her house, away from her problems, away from her father. Her legs were screaming to slow down, but she refused to stop. A few fathoms down the stony path, a small shed comes into view. Vegetation started to surround her, she smiles. Finally, lungs burning, she reaches the small wooden shed.
She opens the worn-down door and flips a switch, brightness flooding her vision. Her safe haven, a small wooden shed with warm fairy lights strung from the ceiling, a desk in the corner with her copious amounts of art supplies.
There were paintings everywhere. Art pieces were randomly strewn about. Outside, the forest flourished around the shed, covering it like a blanket. She falls ungracefully into her chair, hastily grabs for a brush, and starts painting. Colors flying across the canvas, the painting slowly coming to life. It was almost childish, her stroke style that is; she would brush and flick, use her fingers, anything she could.
When it was finally done, it resembled the greenery outside the window. The painting had its own little twists and quirks. It had fairies, small forest creatures, mythical beings, all sorts of everything her imagination could think of. She hung it on her ‘Wall of Wonders’, where all of her favorite paintings and drawings go, and sat back down to ponder her options.
It was currently dark outside but that meant nothing to the wrath of her father, or she could just stay in the cozy little shed of hers until tomorrow… She made her choice.
