On the outskirts of a quaint town in Germany, an ancient cobblestone path leads deep into the forest. At the end of the path, in the heart of the woods, there lies a stone wall; an architectural feat said to have been there well before the foundation of the town. The wall is known by the townsfolk tales as a mysterious landmark that only the eldest citizens know about in detail. The wall in all its glory is feared by those aware of its presence. The abyssal cracks in the stone seeping with moss, its structure formed from jagged rocks stuck out like blades, it screamed danger to those who looked upon it. But, to the eyes of the children of Waldenbuch, the wall provided a magnificent playground full of adventure and excitement, a paradise for those who imagined it to be so. A new unexplored world aching to be conquered. 

They would venture deep into the woods in search of buried treasure, lost civilizations, and fulfillment of their childhood fantasies, armed with youthful spirits and pocket knives. The children spent day after day visiting the wall, climbing it as high as their minds and bodies would take them, telling stories, and declaring king to the bravest of the group. All the while, their parents unaware of where their children were disappearing to days at a time and sought to find their secret location. When they realized where their children were going, a disturbance grew within them. They had heard the stories from the elders about those who traveled to the wall. The children were instructed to stay away from it and to never return. However, despite their dictation, the children continued to sneak out to the wall without their parents knowing. The thrill and adrenaline nearly doubled within the children when they deceived their parents and ventured to the wall. The desire only grew with the restrictions set in place.

They went again, and again, exploring new sections of the wall, climbing the stone, and fantasizing enchanting stories all the while laughing and enjoying themselves just the same, the ingenious nature of them heightened in laughter and triumph. But soon the dancing of their feet grew heavy, their toes turned to lead, and their movements became lethargic. Their eyes became gray, and their once blonde hair dulled to a blackened wave. It became harder and harder to resist the pull of the wall, the beckoning call whispering gently to stay. It cradled the children and kissed them into stone. Pulling them in tighter and tighter until it was no longer the children and the wall, but a wall, solitary in the sunlight.

Not but a year later, a similar group of children came to visit the wall. They too giggled and played just as the children before them did. They climbed its weathered walls, joyously dancing around it, withholding the raw innocence the children before them possessed. If only they could hear the screams from within the wall. The children of the past shrieking, pleading with them, viciously slapping the walls, “Leave! Leave this place! Leave before it’s too late!” Within the stone, the children could see the world stripped of its innocence, danger lurking in the woods, yearning for a kill. But alas, the children before couldn’t hear the screams and the children now couldn’t either. Immaculate minds, blinded. They continued to frolic and play, unaware of the inevitable demise, the innocence they would one day be stripped of, the sorrow and pain the world is yearning to unleash.