Everyone is always “don’t go into the haunted forest” and “don’t go off the path, there are Things out in the sticks, yonder where it gets darker than it ought”
But how am I to die?
At the hands of an economic system that grinds me into a broken husk mourning lost years and untested adventures?
Or at the claws of something very neat to look at?
“There is no choice,” I laugh, “for me anyway.” I say and hand you my wallet. Tomorrow morning, I’ll meet you at the diner, or I won’t, and either way breakfast is on me.
And if I’m there, I’ll have changed, some way or another, but definitely for the better.
This happened to a friend twenty years ago. And he was changed! But he’s never talked about what was in the forest.
The diner food was always really good, after that.
“The moral of this story is I am right about everything always everywhere.” (Network note: this claim is being actively refuted by every expert)
