The Monster Path was the overgrown way down to the lake, where something might be hiding behind any bush. As it grew dark, I drew lamps on the tarmac with a blue wax crayon to guide us home.

They kept the monsters at bay.

We knew that the unseen was just as important as the seen. There was no distinction, and no contradiction, between the things we were taught and the things we worked out for ourselves. As we dug in the garden, we knew that, inches below the reach of the spade, creatures were moving in damp, crumbling tunnels; even as we knew that it was all just earth and stone. They were always just beyond our reach - underground, among the trees, right behind our backs, or perhaps too small to be seen. We left them poison bait, but they were too clever for our traps. The old bombed pool in the park was the way to another land. Another planet, in the same place as the one on which our elders stood, but one on which colours were brighter, magic was stronger, and fantastic creatures walked openly.

Now we have grown up, and we know there is no magic. There's nothing behind the bushes. We imagined the monsters, and no matter how fast we turned around, we'd never see one.

And somehow, that's not how it should be.