Jasmine edged towards the enclosed entrance tentatively.  She mocked herself for being such a  baby. Her thin cloak wiped her eyes,  she kicked open the door. On the ceiling, a black widow spun it’s withered web. To one side, a table lay strewn with a golden horn, blood-stained cutlery and a crown of Ruby’s, emeralds, diamonds and sapphires. On the mantle piece, a mask sat. It looked too heavy to be worn and wherever you’d go it’s eyes would always follow you. On the floor, scratches lay everywhere. The door slammed shut. The only passageway out of the heart of the petrified forest.