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.”
I sit upon the cushion, taking the bow off my back and setting it on the floor. "You're expecting me? Odd." I get myself comfortable on the cushion. "Well I guess, I'm just passing through. Well if you've been expecting me then you must know I'm not here on purpose, just traveling through. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure where *here* is. I've just been wandering since my parents passed, and they lived in the middle of basically nowhere."
Recommended Comments