“Keep out.”

“Danger.”

“Stay clear.”

Angry red signs hung on the metal fence the divided the village and the unknown. To protect us, they said, to keep us safe. From what, we were never told. And we never asked questions. We never spoke about it.

Not that anyone cared. No one seemed to be curious. No one seemed to question why.

No one but me.

I asked every adult I knew and their answer was always the same.

“It was what the generation before me did. It is what I do. It will be what you will do.”

Never to venture out into the woods, was what they had always warned me. I was known as the little curious kid around the village. Everyone knew that I had a curious and inquisitive mind. My people saw it as a curse. They never really did show their dislike for me outright, always treating me nicely like they would with other children. But it was in their subtle actions, the whispering when they thought I couldn’t hear. My own parents discussed me at nights when they thought I was asleep. Problematic was the word most used to describe me with. To them, I was simply threatening the peace that they knew of. I was destroying the boundaries they had so painstakingly built around themselves. I was questioning everything they knew. And they didn’t like it one bit.

Not that I minded.

I love sitting alone at the edge of the village, right in front of the fence, and peering through into the forest that lied behind it. The thick brown barks that stood high and mighty, showing their luscious green canopy of leave. The smell of fresh air carried by the occasional breeze. A huge contrast to the grey muddy village I called home. It signified more than just the wilderness. It represented the unknown. And most importantly, it symbolized freedom.

I hated the dullness of the village, the boring routines and the lack of laughter. People here simply worked and worked and worked. They followed strict timetables and never played. I resented living in such an environment; it stifled me and left me aching to escape.

So one day, I decided to do the unthinkable and probably, the unforgivable.

The fence was flimsy and old. Barely able to support my weight as I made my way up the wired wall. There were loose wire ends that jutted out, a symbol of the lack of maintenance around here. They scratched my skin, some on the surface, some drawing blood but none too deep.

Nothing could prepare me for the feelings that I experienced the moment I stepped onto the grass on the other side of the fence.

I no longer felt the sting of the cuts from the fence. It was exhilarating, only a sense of lightness, giddy and dizzying, much like flight.

I was free.