Tower Clearing was an anomaly. A soaring structure built of old brick and clad with emerald and blood red ivy, some would say it was almost beautiful, and it might have been, under different circumstances, with its coned roof only a dot in the distance, and the arch window at the very top microscopic to anyone standing on the ground.

The clearing was situated in the middle of a forest where oak trees shielded the ground, brutally shadowing the plants so that they couldn't grow. The sun rays would burst between the trunks at morn, but by night the darkness would spread over the dry mud and nurture the monsters and howlers of the dusk.

The only place that radiated happiness - or would have done if it wasn't for the mysterious building that cast a long shadow over the swaying grass - was Tower Clearing. Flowers of every shade of every colour lined a beautiful pond of frog-spawn and water lilies, small hills served as rabbit burrows, and a single tree next to the tower was home to cheeping and happy birds all day.

And the grass was always mown. But nobody knew who did it.

And that was the problem. An old and popular lady of the town nearby had once said,

"I'd clear a path through that menacing wood and let all of the town children play in that beautiful and joyful clearin' if I knew the grass was mown by a town man. But o'course, the grass ain't mown by a town man. All town people are afraid of that 'orrible tower in the middle of it. Someone's in there. People feel it, when they enter the place. Like they're being watched. And that tiny dot of a window, up at the top, is a perfect place to watch, I'm guessing. Someone could sit there and just see the splodges of wee tiny people on their ground. Probably what they do."

It wasn't just talk, either. This same old lady had walked to the clearing one day with a picnic basket and a dog, and had waited. And waited. At precisely eight o' clock at night a light had flickered on, barely noticeable, at the top of the tower. The old lady had sat until it turned off, which was very late that night.

The town children sometimes made up rumours of Rapunzel, but nobody had ever noticed thick, blonde braids falling down the steep, circled walls. Plus, fairy tales never came true.

Apart from the person in there, only one human knew who was inside the tower.

And they were dead.

But many wanted to find out, only few had the courage. The old lady's life mission was to find out who was inside, but she died leaving only a letter to her grandson and a letter to her best friend's granddaughter. Only the grandson had actually read the letter, and he was 14 - a tall and well-built teenager with floppy chestnut hair and big green eyes - when he did, even though his Grandma had died when he was only 7. His parents had read the text and immediately stashed it away in the attic, where it was covered with dust and cobwebs, home to many an unfortunate fly and a few grinning spiders.

When the family moved next door, it was, very coincidentally, the boy's job to clear out the attic, and he found the letter. But that's not the point.

When he read it, he knew that he had to speak to the girl mentioned in his letter. He had heard her name at school: Ananya Ford, but had never spoken to her. He was sure that if she had received her letter she would have come to see him. But she never had done and therefore she hadn't read it.

The boy, telling his parents that he was going up the tall hill to paint the town castle, left the house and made his way to a small thatched cottage nearby, where his friend Harry lived.

Harry was a real socialite, and the boy knew that he would know where Ananya lived. After knocking on the door 3 times and waiting 2 minutes in between each knock, the boy was prepared to leave, but the door suddenly opened and a short, chubby red-faced boy of 12 was stood grinning mischievously.

"Hey, Zaniel! What d'you want from me now, old friend?"

Zaniel regarded Harry's manner of speaking as though he was a middle aged father speaking to a twenty year old nephew as one of his bad points.

"I was wondering whether you know where Ananya lives."

"Why? And what you going to give me for it?"

"Give you? What?"

"You've got to repay me, man. Come on, Zaniel mate, I ain't going to give it you for nought."

Zaniel turned his head on one side, letting his hair sway in the wind and reflect the sun, so dazzlingly that Harry was caught up in a moment of deep emotion whilst looking at it.

"Alright then. But you owe me a favour. She lives on the outskirts, you know, that creepy lane leading towards the woods. Massive house, lots of posh stuff- you know. But let me tell you, a friend's advice, you want to watch out with her. Weird, that one. She's a bit...moody, you know? Could just be hormones but..."

Zaniel nodded and ran off down the stone path. Ananya really didn't seem like a nice girl, from the little he'd heard so far, but he really needed to find her and was determined to do so.

He finally arrived at a big, grey stately home, set apart from the other houses with miles of forestry, flowerbeds and manicured grass on all sides, presumably belonging to the Ford family. Zaniel quietly knocked on the door, but almost immediately it was opened and he saw an extremely tall, slim girl with a very solemn expression on the other side of it.

She had long, dark blonde hair, falling in neat ringlets to her waist, and massive blue eyes lined with thick black lashes. Her face was smooth and pasted with makeup, and she was as pale as a ghost. She wore a long, baggy beige dress which seemed to have lots of different pieces of grey fabric sewn randomly onto it, fluttering in the wind. Her feet were bare and bony, in her right hand was a half-eaten chocolate cookie, and in her left a brown, milky drink. She was unbelievably pretty in an odd kind of way, with her thin lips, long curved nose, a predominant feature of her captivating eyes and sharp, thick eyebrows of the darkest black.

Zaniel couldn't help but gasp - quickly and loudly - at the unusual sight before him, but soon composed himself just in time for her to take a long slurp of her drink.

He muttered, "Excuse me, miss, but I think I have something to tell you, and it's very important."

She frowned, putting her cookie down on a polished wooden cupboard next to her and resting her hand on the door, as if preparing to slam it shut quickly.

"Miss, I just need to speak to you. That's all."

"I've never seen you in my life," she quietly stated, unemotionally and bluntly.

"No miss, but your grandmother knew my grandmother - in fact they were best of friends, and my grandmother left you a letter - "

"Wait," she interrupted, "my grandmother is long gone. Just because she knew yours doesn't mean we have some... connection, or something..." She slowly started to close the majestic mahogany door, but Zaniel pulled it back open angrily.

"Just hear me out, ok? It's not like I'm going to propose to you or something. My grandma's life mission was to find out who is in Tower Clearing. She died before she could find out, but wrote us both letters. My parents kept mine but hid it from me - it was just by chance that I found it and read it. I've guessed that you never got yours, and I want to show you mine so that you know how important it is."

"Wait... where's my letter then?"

"Your parents must have it, or got rid of it. Have you ever seen an envelope with your name in the left hand corner, and in the bottom right hand: from Josephine?"

"Your grandma was Auntie Josephine? She used to babysit sometimes - a lot of times - when my parents were out on business and my granny was too ill."

"Really?" Zaniel vaguely remembered his grandma mentioning a girl who she looked after sometimes, but hadn't ever met her. Until now.

"Well, where's your letter?"

Zaniel unbuttoned his waistcoat pocket and took out the letter. Ananya gently took it from his fingers and unfolded it carefully, as though it might crumble at her touch. She began to read out loud:

Dear Zaniel, my beautiful grandson,

I have something important to tell you. I really wanted to find out who was in the tower - you know that, and now that I'm gone (well, I'll be gone when you get this letter), I want you to stay strong but don't forget me. Honour me, by carrying on with my dream for me. Finish what I started. But I'm not cruel, Zaniel, I won't make you do it alone. I have given one of these letters to a girl, my best friend's granddaughter - Ananya Ford - and she will help you, hopefully. You should start by posting a letter under the tower door. I won't tell you what to put - this is your journey - but I haven't done this myself and I think it would be useful if you asked for a reply. I'm too weak to do it now, so it's up to you and Ananya. Please be careful, my dear, I don't want to put you in any danger and would never forgive myself if anything happened to either of you. Everybody has worth, and everybody is wonderful in their own way. Therefore, I don't want to pressurise you; if you really don't want to do this, then don't. But don't do it without Ananya, Zaniel. Sorry for the jumbled up letter- this is quick and I'm ill, so... bye, my dear.

Your Grandma Josephine

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