This dissertation is a piece of creative writing in fulfilment of the Final Major Project for BA (Hons) Creative Writing.
PROLOGUE
The first time the forest called to them, Briggs had entered their ninth summer. It had become a habit to walk down the path and through the gateway of Simmer to pick the wildflowers that grew in the field that bordered the forest. Plants did not grow within the confines of their homeland; the ground was too dehydrated. Instead of shrubbery, fire pits decorated the space. A short walk from home lay the field lands. Vibrant with lush, green grass and blooming flowers in various colours, Briggs would often find themselves in the field when they had a desire to decorate the kitchen table with a new bouquet. Basket in hand, Briggs skipped down the dusty path, mindful of the words Ma had said before they left. ‘Be sure not to stray far from the path when you go, Brigid my dear. You may not find your way home again.’ It was a warning Ma would always give when Briggs left their hut to pick the wildflowers alone, a warning they had always followed. As they crouched down to pluck the wildflowers coloured in purple and blue, the sun warm on their back, Briggs knotted and tied the twine Ma had handed them to cobble together a makeshift bouquet and placed it in the basket. There were days where Briggs would walk a little further up the path and pick up pinecones. Testing the weight in their palm and how the bark would scratch against their fingertips, Briggs would decide which ones to take home to show to Ma, who would always tut when she opened the basket to find them.
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