Artemis is always troubled. She is a fairy tale writer, yet she can only craft cruel and sorrowful stories. She wanders aimlessly through her tales, searching for a reason to keep writing. Is she writing for others, or herself?
Artemis cannot recall those warm nights when her mother reads her mythological picture books. She does not dare stop writing, yet the characters she creates keep lunging toward the pain within her, like moths drawn to a false happiness: mirrors endlessly peddle lies about beauty; bloodstains on the sheets hint at approaching danger; she trades all her teeth to the Tooth Fairy for a beautiful home. Once again, a buzzing sound fills Artemis’s ears. What is that noise?
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