My first memory is of when I was seven, and I first ventured into my garden after dark. The scene comes back to me so vivid, it feels like it was yesterday. The sky was a deep blue and every fleck of grass had its own crystal dewdrop.

Behind me, my house was dark, and I could feel each pulse of blood course through my veins, the adrenaline rushing through me, breaking the rules.

I ran into the woods at the end of my garden, and suddenly my vision was filled with light.

“Fireflies,” I remember whispering softly to myself before something flew right up to my face. “Hullo,” I said.
“Get outta here.” It was a small sprite glowing a bright orange.

“Can I play?” My eyes widened.
“Trust me, Kid. You have no idea who I am. I could kill you right now.”
I remember laughing at the idea of the fairy killing me.

“What’s so funny, kid?” I remember now he seemed pretty mad, but I didn’t see then.
After that the memory goes, I just woke up in the morning to my mother’s worried eyes, wondering if it had all been a dream.