Bellamy
As we drive though a forest that seems to get darker and denser by the minute, I find myself wondering if he was telling me the truth. Or was it something to relax me until we reached the execution grounds.
“I didn’t ask your name.” I suddenly say and he smirks.
“I’m Hans. Nice to meet you Bellamy. We are almost there. I am sure you are anxious to see your grandmother.”
“They threw some type of silver orb at her to subdue her. What was that?” If I’m going to die, I have questions.
“Fairy dust.” He says quietly and I narrow my eyes in annoyance. “No I’m serious. That’s what it’s called. Human stories and movies perverted its meaning. There is nothing happy or joyful about fairy dust. It is created when a fairy is murdered. Their powers are shed, turning into a silvery dust.
