Yes please!

[holy shit this is a good line]

A Letter from Brigadier General Lorçilau Paltz (Ret.) to Nimian (Nimmy) Paltz, Corporal 2nd Class

Dear Nimmy

I'm sorry to use your parents name for you, Nimmy, Though I hope to make a point, especially if this letter is to be read in the barracks by your Captian, as was the practice in my day.

If there be a Capitan to read this, you would do well to listen too.

Your exploits are the stuff of legend to the farmers back home. They gather around the pub and cheers to you with cries of "give the bastards their due, what ho!". Of note was your recent 'de-hostiling' of Joviçau, which was reported to the press with great fanfare.

The sod-fuckers don't know what de-hostiling means. I do. And so do you.

So when my nephew writes to his old Onkel and talks about such wickedness, I feel compelled to write back, knowing full well that this will be read by you, Capitan, that you might shame my nephew for daring to filch a letter from his loving family in the midst of war.

War? You do not yet know war. You are a child who has tasted their first autumn frost and called it winter.

Yes, I speak to you, Captian Oberin of the 22nd Flechetters, under whom my nephew serves. The farmer may clink their classes to you. They will smile with cow-shit in their teeth as they regal your "de-hostiling" with relish. But I warn you that your unrestrained butchery will put not only your men in danger, but every single citizen you proclaim to defend. For in ravishing the land and the people, you create more enemies than you will ever 'de-hostile' in your lives. They will live their every waking moment to find your families and repay your 'de-hostiling' with interest. And they will, for the tortured and beaten are excellent learners, and they lose all meaning to live but to demonstrate their knowledge to their teachers.

If you have any questions on this, Capitan, you may come and find me at the address enclosed and I will discuss with you, to the limits I have agreed to, how I came to learn this.

A final word, Capitan: there are other terms of which you do not yet know. If I hear of any more "de-hostiling" of cities and innocents in the prosecution of this vicious war, I will use all my rank and resources to provide instruction to you on these terms.

My Regards,

Lorçilau Platz, Brig. General (Ret.)

I’m imagining an Iron Druid Chronicles kinda style of God Slaying and deals with the devil. I really wanna expand on the idea cause this would be super cool. Thanks for the awesome prompt!

I want to know what happens after! Do they go to counseling?

I got chills reading this. I saw Mother Nature in my minds eye comforting one of her children. So nicely done. Applause.

Very nice. I get the feeling that trick may backfire on them. Leading to an epic side quest to bring the old one a case of ale before he loses his temper.

Nice story! By the way, you need to add two new lines for it to show up on reddit, otherwose it'll all be as a single paragraph.

Oh damn you’re right

“What is it they say, Professor? To break the rules, you must first know them? Well I’ve gleaned an insight into the deepest layers of understanding to come to this conclusion.”

Esme dropped the stack of papers onto his desk and then gently placed a USB atop the stack.

“Printed with citations and supporting documents and graphs, as well as a digital copy with additional documentation and links.”

The Professor took the drive and placed it by his computer and then grabbed the hefty stack of papers and brought it up. As his eyes passed over the title of the thesis, she watched a frown come across his face. Esme grinned in anticipation.

“The Theory and Study of the Science Of Magic, by Esme Lucero.”

He glanced up at her.

“Is this some sort of tongue in cheek joke I’m not understanding? The title of your thesis need only be a brief insight into what you’ve been studying, not an allusion to how magical the natural world is.”

“Oh but it is an insight into what I’ve been working on. And I can assure you, this world is undoubtedly magic. Both figuratively and literally.”

Before he could respond Esme placed a finger to his lips. She grabbed a pen from his desk and began drawing a series of shapes and circles that intertwined to create an intricate pattern.

“The hard part is drawing on the other hand. I had to teach myself to be ambidextrous, but I have a shortcut to avoid the tediousness of how long it takes me.”

She pulled a sticker from her pocket. It had a similar design to what she had drawn on her hand. She peeled the backing off the sticker and placed it onto her palm.

“I found that you don’t have to use chalk, ink, or blood—thank god—to make this work. I streamlined the process by using a drawing software. Makes it much easier, though I did fry a couple tablets in the beginning.”

“What process,” the Professor said. “Blood? Did you harm yourself? Ms. Lucero this is highly irregular—“

“Oh it’s more than irregular. It’s magic.”

She clapped her hands together and began rubbing them vigorously. The Professor watched as the friction began to cause a small stream of smoke. His eyes grew wide. She brought her hands apart one more time and smiled.

“Don’t blink for this part.”

Esme brought her hands together hard and the Professor jumped back as he watched a small orb of fire emerge from Esme’s palms. It floated just above the surface of her skin and gave off a steady heat. He watched as she moved it back and forth from one hand to the other.

“How on earth,” he said.

Esme’s eyes were wide with wonder. The light from the flame lit up her face in a warm glow.

“It’s amazing isn’t it? I still can’t get over it. I had a few hiccups along the way. Set my clothes on fire a couple times. Could’ve been much worse but I was cautious. Science and safety go hand in hand, right?”

The Professor stood up and brought his hand towards the fire. He could feel the heat. He brought one finger near and felt a singe on his skin that made him recoil.

“Careful. It’s very real, I assure you.”

“Incredible. Can you…cane you make it burn brighter? Hotter?”

Esme nodded.

“I can bring it to roughly 1400 celsius before it gets too much for me to handle.”

“This is…this is amazing.”

“And it’s attainable. Repeatable. And not just with fire. I can sculpt earth, dissolve metal, freeze water, all with the appropriate formulae and materials. You’re the first witness.”

The Professor began flipping through the documents.

“You say it’s repeatable. What’s the simplest thing that I could do?”

Esme brought her hands together slowly and smothered the flame. Smoke filtered through the creases between her fingers. She shook her hands out and dug into her pocket to produce a bag of seeds.

“Take these. Pour a few into your mouth but don’t swallow them. Just allow them to sit under your tongue. I’m going to give you a phrase to say on a piece of paper. Say it three times and then spit them into the circle I’m about to draw.”

“Will this…hurt me, Esme?”

“Only if you swallow the seeds. You won’t die or be maimed but passing them won’t be pleasant.”

He did as she said and dropped the packet of seeds into his mouth, careful not to swallow any of them. The sat under his tongue and as she drew the design on a piece of paper, he read over the phrase. Though he was no etymologist or linguist, he knew these words were a romanization of words unknown to most languages he’d seen or heard of before. Nevertheless he worked diligently to ensure the pronunciation was correct, and when Esme had competed the circle he did as she instructed. As the last line of the incantation passed through his lips, he spat the seeds onto the paper, and watched as the circle began to glow.

The seeds were clumped together on the page. As the light from the circle glowed brighter, he watched the seeds begin to crack and sprout green vines and tendrils that began to wrap together. They culminated to form humanoid looking being made of plant life. It stood about 20 centimeters tall and though it had no eyes, it seemed to look up at the Professor.

“Alchemists would have called this little guy a homunculus. Ask him to do something for you. Make it simple though. When they’re this new, they can’t handle tasks that are too complex.”

“Oh. Um. Can you bring me that,” he said pointing to the USB drive.

The plant creature nodded and walked over to the drive, picking it up between its two vine like arms and brought it to him. A smile grew across his face as he took it from the creature.

“So what do we think.”

“What do I think? Esme, forget about a doctorate. Forget academia. This will change the world.”

“So what’s next then?”

“You tell me. I think you’re the teacher now.”

- Where are you going?
- To the war, dad, I'm going to the war. I was offered to sign a contract at the academy. I know you are not happy. But this is my life and I don't have to repeat your fate. Everything will be different with me.
- You simply do not understand what you are talking about, - the father, resisting with his hands on the armrests of the chair, stood up with effort and went to the window.
Dusk was already beginning on the street. The wind blew the yellowed autumn leaves on the empty street. It looked like someone took a bad photo and messed up the white balance. Everything looked blue and cold, which contrasted sharply with the warm, yellowish light inside the house. The first puddles began to be covered with a thin layer of ice.
- Everything is not as it is described in the films about the war. Even in the bloodiest. There are no heroes there, there are only those who are already dead and the walking dead, - he went into the kitchen without looking at his son and put the kettle on - do you wanna tea?
- Green please... I want to achieve something in life, I want to see the world.
- Well, go to college, finish your education and travel. Do you know what is most terrible about war?
- Dad, I'm sorry for your leg.
- The leg is nothing, - the father waved it off, - over the years I got used to the prosthesis, it even has its advantages - the knee hurts only on one leg, - tapping on the prosthesis on the right leg, he smiled. - The worst thing is that you survive, and a part of you, your dead friends, remains on the battlefield. The emotions you are looking for will not be there. There will be only void. I thought I could fill it with your mothers love, but these wounds can never be fully healed. I woke up every night for three years because of nightmares. Back then we fought for our future. This war is not our business, it is a shame.
- Dad, I've already decided everything, - the son finally sat down at the table and folded his hands, like a schoolar at a desk, - besides, I've already signed up and it's too late to change anything.
- You should have talked to me.
- Dad, I'm already an adult.
- You are 19 years old, - the father said with bitterness in his voice.
- This is no longer the war you know about, the academy prepared us well for...
- War? You do not yet know war. You are a child who has tasted their first autumn frost and called it winter.
They fell silent. For a second it seemed that the house was gravely silent, but then it became clear that the kettle had been whistling all this time, which could not be heard in the midst of the argument.
The father took the teapot off the fire and poured water into the teapot:
- Well, if you have already decided, promise me one thing.
- What?
- You will not be a hero. Heroes die first and are forgotten sooner than you think.
After a short pause, the son said:
- I promise.
It was already dark outside the window. The light from the kitchen illuminated the snowflakes that were slowly swaying in the air. The first snow fell early this year.

Very polished! Nice work.

Hey, Tomorrow_Is_Today1. Thanks for the opportunity to read your work and comment.

I have the impression that this piece has been taken from a longer one and condensed. Maybe not. Anyway, I don't get the point of your story. Why does your MC see colours up here and why not before? What is the mechanism at play where she (presumably) feels like a giant and what is the implication of that? From whence the compunction to go home? Is this a bitter-sweet discovery she will come to regret? The story has great potential and I would love to see if you can do more with it.

Be careful of redundancy. The sun faded as the day went on, is saying the same thing. It can be summed up as at the end of the day. The word though at the start of this sentence implies a coming contradiction that is not there, so is not needed.

Cheers.

After the Great War with the humans, those of us that survived, hid in the mountains.  I remember my gran saying, "Boyo, them humans can slay us as easy as skinning a yak. Never let their looks deceive you." I didn't doubt her.She knew what she was talking about. Grandpa had fallen in the war, just like her two children.

Her words served me well, and return to haunt me, now at the twilightof my life.

When we were kids, I remember being hungry all the time. It is the human's curse, the saying went. For feeding on their flesh. We suffered, but it wasn't like anyone else in the tribe had a full meal. Mountain goats and yaks were all we had. In the summertime, the Dahl lake unfroze, and the entire tribe went fishing. The taste of raw warm fish blood still lingers on my tongue. Ah, for another sip!

Slowly we built a better life for our race. We learnt to breed animals and fish. We learnt to channel water, preserve dried meat for the winters. And throughout all this, we stayed away from the humans. Ever careful, ever fearful. And we built a world our parents would be proud of. 

Our children did not know our pains. My son Haruk ate a full fish on Solstice Day. I wondered what gran would have thought. When we were kids, that would be our ration for a week.

But then again, we'd been a family of five. When Haruk was two years into marriage, there were 15 of us in the cave. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming. Some of us did. "Noone should parent more than 1 child", I remember Satya saying, to loud jeers. He stayed silent after that.

One by one, my mateys all passed away, as I watched our dreams crumble around us.

Suddenly, there wasn't food for everyone in the tribe. It felt like I was back in the childhood days. Only there was something different in the air this time. In our days, when there was no food, if someone managed to catch a single fish, the blood of that fish would be shared amongst the tribe, every man woman and child. Even if it meant all we got was a drop. Now I saw yaks getting stolen.

One night, at a  council meeting, Jai spoke up. She and her folks had been sneaking away down  into the valley. "There's meat down there,'' she said. Herds of meat. Human. I was scandalized.

"Don't you remember the war?" I said. "It's forbidden to go down there, you're risking the entire tribe." "We'll starve if we don't." She said obstinately. "What’s your plan for the winter?" 

"Share what little we have." I had said, and adjourned the meeting.

I should have done more to dissuade them, should have known that they wouldn't listen, but I'm an old man. I mistook that the terror of humans would hold them back. But they didn't share my terror. Their parents hadn't brought them up with stories of grisly deaths of relatives.

Last week, when I went out for my evening walk, my blood froze. Jai and her folks were carrying a dead human. "It was frightened of us, more than we were of it, " she announced, "and rightly so". " kept yelling - Zombie, Zombie!" Jai laughed.

I looked at the dead creature with fascination. It the same size as us, but with pailfuls of juicy meat lining its skin. It did look harmless.

Was it this very creature, our ancestor, who had wiped out half our race at birth?

That night, there was a feast. For once, everyone shared. The most delicious meat I ever tasted, filled my stomach. Warm blood slaked my thirst. I even shared the liver with Jai. She had saved our tribe.

At the time of the war, we had been newborns, I reasoned with myself.  We didn't know how to build caves, communicate with drums, or breed animals. This time we were better prepared. I conveniently forgot gran's tales of fire raining from the sky. 

Yesterday, Jai left with her folks again. I didn't stop them. The taste of meat had silenced my better judgment. She returned alone.

When I entered the cave, her eyes were red with tears and anger. "They were waiting." Her teeth clenched with anger as she spoke. "With fire." She plucked out a tiny stone from her skull. "Stupid sons of fishes. They'll feel the wrath of the tribe. Boyo, prepare for war." 

I looked at this fierce young woman, her eyes flashing, lips drawn tight. And suddenly, I felt very old. Fire raining from the sky.

"War?" I said. "You do not yet know war. You’re the child who has tasted the first autumn frost and called it winter."

I do not know if we will survive the days to come. Half forgotten stories gran told me, now haunt my dreams. I keep thinking, we had two hundred years to develop, but so did the humans. If they could rain fire then, what can they do now?

That's why I write this, engraving it on the walls of my cave. Dear reader, I don't know who you are, but I hope you're a descendant of the tribe. If you're not, dear stranger, remember that we existed, that we lived, and we loved. Pray to your gods for us.

"Good morning Jessica."

"Morning boss."

I smiled at her as she came in for her shift. One of my constant conveyor belt university students, she was a good worker. There were a few times she was late to work, having been on a binge the night before. But I liked to give some some slack.

She disappeared out back for a bit, before coming back in her apron. We traded high fives, and she took over manning the till. Times would change, fights would happen, but people always needed their coffee.

I took some time to relax, idly checking on the targets I was given. People with super powers often caused mayhem, either because they wanted to or by accident. I was part of the League, a sort of shadow organisation. We put appropriate villains for those who wanted to help, but inevitably made things worse. The Guild knew of us of course, and helped give match ups.

I was one. According to the Guild official ranking, I was a C-Class villain. Mostly an annoyance, but could potentially cause problems if left unchecked. I liked it, as I loved being an idiot. I made stupid devices that had nice obvious off or self destruct buttons. Coupled with nice clear timers, it kept my team mostly out of trouble. In reality I was more of an A-Class.

I sipped my water, looking at their track. Instantly I had to roll my eyes. Of course they were coming here. I wandered near to the door, keeping an ear out to listen in on their conversation.

"Hey, love, give us your number."

Oh. Oh no they didn't. I hated those sort who hit on my employees. I peeked through the peephole, and nearly smacked my head in frustration. They were in their outfits. They must have thought it made them special. I glanced at the four of them.

Flare, wearing a mix of red and orange. He was their leader, with mild pyrokinesis. Flanking him were the twins, Gust and Wave. Air manipulation and hydrokinesis. Finally behind was the largest of the lot, Rock. Geokinesis, to finish up the Elements as they called themselves. They were properly C-Class, with low level powers.

"I don't give my number out. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

They laughed, each one egging the others on. I clenched my fist, as Flare held up his hand to touch her hair.

"Oh don't be like that. I bet you've never been with a super before. Let's just say we are super in more ways than one."

I felt pride as Jessica slapped his hand away, stepping back.

"Ew. Get out."

I pulled open the door, as his face fell. There was a rush of heat, and my counter burst into fire.

"Fine, be like that. Thought I would give an ugly girl a short at being important for once. I guess I thought wrong."

His cronies laughed, as I rushed over to Jessica. She was crumpled on the floor, shaking. As I ran I felt something infront of my leg. The air growing thick. I fell hard, getting some more laughs from them.

"Come on guys, let's go, there are people out there who actually have brains."

Wave's voice was mocking. I crawled over to Jessica, rubbing her shoulder. She peeked up at me, before reaching out to hug me. I looked st the soot on her face, and felt anger. They were meant to be heros. This was far beyond any sort of realm of good.

"It's OK."

I soothed her as she cried into my shoulder. I could smell burnt hair, and knew Flare had deliberately caught her in it. I struggled to contain my rage. They would pay.

-----

"Elements."

I spoke a single word with pure hatred. The League and Guild were in agreement. This team was no longer a good hearted liability. They were a menace. I had been given the all clear to remove them from the Hero Pool.

"Jester! Come on, let's get this over with!"

Flare called up at me, eager to fight. I smirked. They thought they could beat me.

"Tell me, what do you know about super powers?"

They frowned. Normally I came up with a stupid quip. This time I was being deadly serious.

"Only the privileged are able to get and use them."

I laughed.

"Well, that's wrong. It's merely a quirk of genetics, space-time, and random chance. But tell me, what would happen if someone was able to understand this random set of events?"

I was met with blank stares, making me roll my eyes. I had never put much thought into how stupid they were.

"Alright, since you are thicker than concrete. Let me explain. If you could understand how to replicate this set of events, you could make up powers of your own."

I held up a syringe, filled with a thick green liquid.

"Like this."

I injected myself, feeling the same rush of power hit me. I grinned at them, raising an arm. A pillar of rock split from the floor, larger than anything Rock could handle.

"Behold, the new improved Rock."

I let it fall, as Gust darted towards me. He yelled as he moved.

"Guys, we have to stop him before he does anymore!"

I grinned at him, thinning the air beneath him. He fell, looking up at me in shock.

"Oh come now. Do you really think I hadn't prepared before you got here? Let me show you just how pathetic you really are. When I'm done, you will be heroes no more."

I lunged, ready to fight. They thought themselves strong. I wanted to prove them wrong. To the public, they would be called away to Guild Headquarters, for training. Technically they would be returning, but only after I had given them the treatment that confirmed my place as an A-Class. The treatment to suppress their pitiful powers.

Highschool Student in AP Calc here. How the hell did they manage anything at all with a numerical system designed by Satan himself.

‘My Biochemical Romance’

—-

The downy depths of the dark duvet beckon. I yearn to pull it over my head and shut out my heartbreak.

A distant siren wails, strengthening my resolve. Doing something, anything has to be better than this.

Lacing on my running shoes, I bolt outside into the chill November air. I race down the cobbled streets. My shoes tap the pavement like an ever-accelerating metronome.

And still, I run.

Past shops we’d visited. That cafe Clare liked with the double cocoa tiramisu.

Euphoric endorphins surge through my body, filling the gap of oxytocin’s sweet embrace.

And still, I press on.

—

WC: 100

—

Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated

Jalla tossed another chunk of meat onto the fire and sat back on her overturned log with a huff. She was never a fan of camping, but sometimes magic couldn't take you where you wanted to go. At times like this, you had to rely on yourself. She gnawed on her own piece of jerky as a shadowy figure manifested beside her and stared quizzically down at the fire, before addressing her with an accusatory tone.

"Why?" Jalla gave a small chuckle, and looked up at Ofnir as their proper form finished materializing. They sat down on the log next to her, wearing an expression of sorrow that was definitely not befitting of the being that she had bound into her service.

"It's a tradition in my homeland. We burn an offering of food for the gods when we take from the world's bounty." Ofnir scoffed and turned away from Jalla.

"Well I prefer my food unburnt, thank you very much. Plus, that's wasteful." Jalla gave a small tsk and tore off a chunk of her jerky, prodding the young god with it in her palm. They finally faced her again, picking it up and biting into it.

"It's not wasteful, it's respectful. You got it from nature, it's only fair to give a little back." Ofnir nodded thoughtfully, and to Jalla's surprise they tore off a small piece of their jerky and cast it into the fire. Noticing Jalla's gaze, Ofnir shrugged.

"Just being respectful. One god to another."

It's an IA so cameras and audio relays on it, as a secure zone so no cellphones.

And is not that the US attacked, we the human race attacked a diplomatic vessel

This takes the cake. I'm not even gonna try. You win! I love it!

It's easy to make a prompt for heroes and extraterrestrials. Comic books are well known for delving deeply into bizarre and strange scenarios after all, leaving plenty of inspiration. But after seeing so much of the fantastic, the impossible, its spectacle starts to fade. The whole thing starts to feel more lazy than interesting. Labels of Hero, Villain, Demon King, etc, all convenient check marks to let an author skip over details of who characters are so they can fit everything in nice little 500 word posts.

I consider putting up a prompt for more slice of life focus into those settings, but even that's overdone now. In truth, as nice as it can be to view those characters in such a way, more often they're robbed of gravitas as an author attempts to be witty. A Dark Lord getting coffee is amusingly absurdist the first time, but rendering them another person loses part of the presence that makes such characters intimidating in the first place.

If I just wanted to farm points then sure, what's it matter if the idea feels trite to me? Clearly the rest of the sub doesn't agree, and appealing to those who've yet to grow sick of it all can be nice. But that's not a good road to go down, tying my love of the written word to the approval of countless strangers. Binding my self worth to whether or not a work gets lots of clicks and engagement is more likely to kill my enjoyment of the hobby than anything else.

Perhaps something more grounded? I've enjoyed fantastical works on pre-industrial societies, highlighting the difficulties in making even the simplest building blocks of civilization. The magic of transportation a tamed horse can give and how incredible such a beast is up close even in a world with far more bizarre creatures. Or maybe something on ancient conflict, with emphasis on the mindgames that were so critical there. It was a rare battle that didn't end in retreat after all, whichever side lost their nerve and turned from marching soldiers to a terrified mob first.

Yet even as I think of it, I know I won't write it down. Because wadding through this sea of samey ideas only reminds me of what I'm using it to avoid. Crafting my own works, facing the misery of trying to bind a grand vision into corporeal form and only making a mess.

So I close Reddit. Ignore the highlight reels of more experienced or talented writers, and once again slam my head into the consistent failures that make up the learning process of any field.

Bruh, you forgettin about faes and dragons.

Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Bullshit, absolute bullshit, I think to myself. I’ve been living a long time, rich and poor. Lemme tell ya, health, wealth, all that jazz, it just comes down to luck. Luck is all it is and all it ever will be don’t let anyone else fool you. True, I am not a man and can’t speak much on the wise bit, but the message holds the same.

Maybe if I was a bit more wise I wouldn’t be in this mess, not that I think my sleeping patterns have anything to do with it. I am currently what you would call “without a home.” That does not mean homeless, mind you. Homeless sounds so final, like a limb that is chopped off your body. Mine is a temporary situation, one that will be fixed as soon as possible.

A situation caused my idiot child. Who, who tell me, throws their dear mother out onto the street? Absolute madness, that one. Always thinking of nothing but herself. Her whole “your critics aren’t good for my mental health.” Such a weak generation that I’ve raised, that’s the real fault that lies with me. If she would put a comb through that hair and clean up once in a while maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to comment. After all, I’m just looking out for her. But no, Gods forbid I say anything. Had me out on the street, did she. Said I had to go somewhere else. Only gave me a year to do it! In this economy!

Anyway, what’s done is done and I’m stuck without a home for a moment. Not that I mind all too much. It’s summer and warm enough. Managed some camping gear and the works. Besides, I know these backwoods so well it feels more like home than any four walls could provide.

I get started on dinner. Same food every day, in and out. Not the best for this aging body, but you have to do what you have to do. Right before I dig in, I dump a bit into the fire. Some old thing my mom used to do back in the day, that she passed on to me. Clearly, she was a better parent than I turned out to be, so I still do it when I remember. I think it’s for the Gods, but honestly is just a waste of food. I throw some in and start to chow down.

“You know, I would prefer my food unburnt-“ I deep voice says from behind me. I turn around as fast as I can, assuming I’d finally gone off the hinges. It’s not like the door was ever bolted that tight anyway. Standing there is a man about my age, wearing black jeans and a hoodie. In my younger years I would have gone screaming for the hills… but somehow I know this isn’t just some man, the black hair giving it away.

My mother use to tell me stories of Gods that watched over us, keeping us safe. She would do it when we were in these backwoods, I assumed to keep me from complaining too much. She said that when it was time, a man with jet-black hair would take us where we need to go. Until that time comes, we would have nothing to fear. With him standing here though, I know she’s slightly off. When he’s come, there is nothing to fear.

“So, it must be my time,” I say, my voice quivering a little. Even knowing there’s nothing to be afraid of, the body is a machine, and a machine does not want to be stopped. He nods. “Well, you’re right. I can fix you a better plate than that. Come in and eat first.” He does, surprisingly. We sit down in these woods one last time, then he takes me where I’m meant to go.

I concur!

immediately made me think of this one xD

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/missing-woman-finds-herself-after-intense-search/

ping when part 3