Leda's Forest

There's a mystery deep in a forest, filled with everything you dream of night. It's Leda's Forest, but nobody know's what's inside. In this Forest lies secrets, only to be discovered by somebody special. But, this wood is dangerous and full of suprises. Not just anybody can enter.
Don't be scared, i am here to protect you.


2. The Begining

In an ideal world I'd be blonde. Skinny. Perfect.

I'm not a perfect girl and I never will be.My hair is purple, not blonde. I'm not skinny, i'm slightly bigger. Perfect is an opposite word to difine me.

I'm a dreamer, I love to escape to a world that doesn't exist, I always have. Elves,dwarfs, dragons are always involved in my life, it was never just pretend. I grew out of it. But I always dream of being young again. Forever to be pretending, that life was better. My mom and Dad never understood me I just wanted for them to respect me for who I was. As a child I thought I was very lucky. But as I grew up, everything became so serious. I was never let out to play games. I relised that I could never be a child forever. Never again :(

I woke up to an empty house, Mum had already gone to work.Stomping down the stairs with a tierd look stained down my face I swung round the banister and in to the lounge. I have never eaten breakfast all my life (I just think it's a waste of time), I just get ready for school and pack my teddy bear bag with books (All covered in doodles) I swiftly opened the door and closed it smoothly behind me .Then I walked down my frount lawn, scimming my fingers down the railings as I hummed mary has a little lamb, my song ended. The grumpy bus driver threw a sharp pebble at my head, it stung like crazy, but I didn't say anything. Just glared at him while I jogged to get in to the moldy looking bus and pulled a face at my bus driver as I entered. I sat in my usual place, the back, and harshly pluging in my head phones in my ipod.Not speaking only listening to the musical notes pouring through my brain, poisoning my mind with lyrics and images.

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