Submission (#1460) Approved

It was a dark and foggy night when confetti heard the letter slip through the slat in her front door.
She roused herself groggily from the lush, billowing blankets of her bed and slid into the chill of the room. Reaching into her bedside cabinet, she retrieved a box of matches, striking one against the side to watch the warm, tangerine glow flare. She then lit the charred wick of the old wax candle upon the table and strode across the floor to where the delicate envelope lay, sealed with wax the color of indigo, upon the chill hardwood. Using a claw, she tore the paper along the top and unfolded the parchment inside. Reading through the epistle with the crackle of fire in the background of her mind, she forged a plan to assist her friends in their quest.
Briskly, she packed rope, food, a net, water, and a few other supplies and gear into a bundle which she threw into a pack on her waist; donned a starry enchanted cloak draped in golden tassels; and slipped quietly out into the still night air.
She trod over the rugged cobble streets through her sleeping village as the shadows seemed to dance and sway around her, the winding streets illuminated only by the milk-light of the moon and the occasional flickering glow of a lamp. Flanked by looming buildings, it was difficult to see what might be lurking around the bend, so she kept her guard up and her head held down. On the occasion that one of the shadows would move a bit much for comfort, she would wrap herself in her cloak and still her beating heart as she bled into her surroundings.
Eventually, she reached the far side of town where the only buildings were the shoemaker's and the blacksmith, the cobbles pattering out into a rough and silty dirt road dotted with stray patches of grass. At the end of the road was a tall wooden signpost with two branches, one labeled "To Larkshire" and the other weathered beyond recognition. She set off along the path to Larkshire, the wind whipping the auburn leaves of the trees around her, swirling and twirling them in the breeze like a flurry of colorful snow.
Passing through the waving grasses of the countryside, she took caution to avoid exchanging glances with the eyes in the cornfields. Never make eye contact with those in the cornfields. With each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs, she found herself quickening her pace as she ran along the path over the hills and into a clearing with another signpost.
Reading the sign, she discovered that the man trail to Larkshire was currently unstable for travel and that to continue her journey she would have to traverse along an offroad trail surrounded by forest. So, flanked by the hooting of owls and the cawing of ravens, she walked the dark forest with the calming aroma of decaying leaves in every breath.
At long last, when the harvest moon was high above her in the mist of the clouds, she caught sight of the warm, lambent storefront.
Trodding up to the door, she stepped inside to the welcoming warmth of Hocus and Pocus's shop.