Noodlotsbestemming

Fantmories haunt her as she stands in the doorway, staring at the nightly garden. The moonlight rustles trough the leaves of the old cherry tree. What lies behind the garden fence? This question has been on every mind since the beginning of time (cfr. Adam and Eve). She wants to scream but smiles, and a tear rolls over her cheek (the left one), bittersweet (Apocalyptica). The starlight is deafening tonight. She goes in and quickly locks the door. But there is no escaping destiny. The vines of destiny creep through the mailbox and wind their way upstairs. Silver moonlight. Vines of destiny. Sleeping beauty. What lies behind the garden fence? Who stands outside the gate?