Quoodle

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?))

He hesitates slightly as he gazes upon the dark and damp surroundings, "I have been traveling for a very long time,” he says nervously. “I’m not even sure why I kept running- maybe to find a purpose, or a place that stood out to me, or maybe I was just looking for a way to make things right.” He stops for a moment, reflecting on his past misfortunes and mistakes. “I hoped that if I kept moving, I could outrun my past, but apparently there just some things you can avoid.” He pauses again, forcing a smile to ease the tension, as if he’d had this conversation a thousand times before. “I am just looking for a place where I can stop running,” he says as he looks back up at the woman with misty eyes.