You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
((How do you respond?))
I cautiously approach the old hag, feeling a shiver run down my spine. I take a seat on the cushion she's pointed at and try to collect my thoughts.
"Well, my name is Horace. I've been traveling for what feels like forever. It all started when I received a letter from an old friend, urging me to visit this town. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I had to come."
As I speak, the old hag listens intently, her piercing eyes never leaving my face. I can't help but feel like she knows more than she's letting on.
"I've faced many challenges on my journey," I continue, "I've battled beasts, overcome obstacles, and lost friends along the way. But I've also discovered new strengths and learned to trust in myself."
The old hag nods knowingly, "Yes, the journey of self-discovery is a long and difficult one. But it is necessary for growth and progress."
I nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding between us.
"But tell me, old hag," I inquire, "what is it that you know of me? Why did you say you were expecting me?"
The old hag smiles cryptically, "Some things are best left unsaid, Horace. But know this, the path ahead is not an easy one. You will face many challenges, but you must stay true to yourself and trust in your instincts. Only then will you find what you seek."
With those words, the old hag falls silent, her gaze returning to the candles. I take my leave, feeling both uneasy and invigorated by our encounter. As I step out into the damp streets, I can't help but wonder what lies ahead on my journey.
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