Tinkling children's laughter echoed down the greenery-festooned glass corridor. The little girl paused and cocked her head. Her bare feet still on the cool glass floor. She had thought that she was alone in this pleasantly abandoned courtyard. Nature had overtaken most of it, coloring the glass with all shades of foliage. She shivered slightly, clad only in a pink sundress that swished around her bare, bruised knees.

"Onward," she whispered to herself, and continued. Her footsteps made scarcely a sound on the dusty glass, her weight barely a dent. Scratches marred the smooth surface on the edges of the corridor, but where she traversed, it was still gleaming as if it were brand-new.

She'd run away, but she couldn't remember anymore what day that had been. Three days ago? Or was it four. Or even five. She couldn't remember. She had taken a frog with her, coaxed into her pocket, but the frog had left her before entering this courtyard. As if the frog knew something she didn't. That was okay, though. She was a big girl. She could handle herself. She didn't need the frog or anybody else, although it was awfully lonely in this courtyard. In this corridor. Clouds had overtaken the sky, and now the corridor was darkening. It was a bit spooky when it got dark.

"This way," she heard a high, lilting voice say, in the distance. Curiosity piqued, she began to walk faster, nearly a run. She did not call out, however. Perhaps some lingering sense of caution kept her mouth from opening, kept her vocal cords from having their say. She hurried, but without making a sound. Even her breathing came in quick and light pants.

Her hair, gleaming red, spilled tangled across her shoulders as she went. She wished that she had thought to bring a comb, but it was too late now. It had been too late ever since she took the first step out of her yard. One meaningless step, and the journey was begun.

Now there were more sounds, laughing sounds, but the sounds had changed, they were crueler, colder...as if something was only mimicking a young one, putting on a child's false front to mask itself. An icy shiver went down the little girl's back. Perhaps the frog had had the right idea.

It was mere chance that kept her from being discovered. She'd just stepped in the shadow of some low-hanging ivy when she realized that the corridor opened up, and that she was not alone.

The things that cavorted in the opening of the other end of the corridor looked a bit like children. They were small, delicately-formed, with nearly translucent skin and wide eyes. Too wide, though, and their eyes were all pupil. Teeth poked out from their mouths, and their bones looked malformed, twisted and shaped into monstrous frames.

They were playing ball, she noticed, and she had to slam her hand over her mouth, mashing her lips against her teeth, when she realized that their "ball" was actually a human head. A man's head, if she wasn't mistaken, with straggly dark hair and mouth frozen in a grimace.

She began to step very tentatively and slowly backward, praying that they wouldn't look up and notice her. Catcalls sounded from the small creatures in front of her, taunting the one with the ball as he kicked it into a makeshift ivy net at the other end. Tears tracked down her dusty cheeks, although still, she made not even a whisper of noise.

The clouds began to drift away, and she froze as the sunlight lit up the glass corridor once more. She'd be spotted now for sure, and then where would she be? Used in another game of kickball?

Then she caught sight of the creatures and her jaw dropped open. Instead of leaping forward at her, teeth bared and twisted claws extended, or even simply continuing their game...they had been turned to marble. In this form, there was almost a grotesque beauty about them, bodies shining and sleek, flawless.

No matter. She shook her head and continued to retrace her steps out of the haunted courtyard. Perhaps she could find the frog again. Surely, there was another adventure lurking around the next bend. The road would continue, and so would she.

After all, she could never go home again.