In the centre of a small circle of trees, a crater of white sand glitters beneath the moon. If you were to thrust your hand in, swirl the soft grains between your fingers, you would find yourself entranced. In what world does such pale sand grace the forest floor so wholly? It is a scar on the earth, so far in the trees it should be impossible. If you were to sink yourself into it to discover the bottom, you would find yourself with a mouth, nose, eye full of sand. You would sink far enough to never be found in the entire circular expanse of time.

   This place, hidden in a dense forest, has swallowed many souls, will continue to swallow any soul it sees fit.

   In the dim light, it can be seen that a man emerges from the shadow of undergrowth, his human form a large silhouette on his path to the sand. The man pauses, the toes of his shoes just barely grazing the edge of the pit. He crouches, slides one large hand into the smooth grains, and sighs. It is a nondescript sigh, the kind you might make involuntarily or because you were holding your breath.

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   As he stares into the sand, his body visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping into the rest of him. Were the lighting brighter, the glazing over of his eyes would appear more obvious.

   After a long and unmeasured amount of time, the man rises and begins to make his way to the edge of the clearing. He stops, turns his head just enough to glimpse the sparkle of sand, and nods in a satisfied manner. With great reluctance, he begins to pick his way back through the forest to the yellow glow of St. George's Senior School for Boys.