Imagine the realization that in only 1 year you will be closer to 30 than 25. Yeah, now that is real horror.

What I'm going to do/have done! (Section)

I figured I'd share a few of the silly names I have in the outline.

Here are a few.

The genius hyper-conveying mastermind of a good chunk of the story is called Hot Food Girl.

The kind but overly loyal guard is called Buff Dog.

Probably the most important female character in the story is called WomenGol.

As you can see, my naming skills are unmatched.

(Also for anyone who read this before the edit...I might've confused Rachel and Susan's names...umh, whoops? lol.)

Things I wrote just for you (And the others here as well!...Section.)

ProfessionalStranger25 looked out of his window, and like always, the forest stared back at him. The fact that he was miles away was the only thing that kept his hairs from standing up straight. As the forest's trees were as dark as any cave even on the brightest of days. And they were so tall that his neck hurt from all the craning he needed to do to see their end.

He'd heard many stories. That the soil was black as tar because it contained the souls of the damned. That if a kid who'd yet to turn of age hugged the trunks of the forest then they'd be consumed and become one with the trees. That when a man and woman enter the forest together, a doll bearing the resemblance of their firstborn would appear and never let them leave. That second one scared ProfessionalStranger25 the most, as he was still a few months away from 13 years of age.

Ms.Care had told him all those stories were rubbish. But he couldn't help but feel that there must have been a grain of truth to them all. Why else did their town curve around the darn thing instead of making a road straight through? Why else did Instakill tell him that if he ever came a mile near the forest she'd kill him in a heartbeat. Why else when he stared at it in the darkest of nights...could he hear a soft whisper directed at him.

"Come to us, come to me, come and we will be-"

ProfessionalStranger25 shut his window. Gave one final glare at the forest, and then went to his bed. Some things in the end are better left as questions.

Susan: "Daddy, why is our town called Cafir?"

Dad: "Hm, why do you ask?"

Susan snuggled up into her blanket, looking out her window and into the forest that was only a mile or two away.

Susan: "I asked Ms.Care at school, but she gave a different answer than Betty. And Betty gave a different answer than the Soccerboys. And-"

Susan made a few loops with her index finger. Her father nodded.

Dad: "Ahh, Townfolks like us rarely agree on things. And humans with time bend all history. Leaving us all in the darkest of mysteries."

Susan groaned.

Susan: "Your rhymes stink dad."

Her father flushed.

Dad: "i-I wasn't trying to rhyme! b-But teach! That's what is of most importance."

Susan: "Pfff, sure..."

Susan looked away from her dad to stare at the forest a bit more. From the glimmer in Susan's eyes, he could tell that the wondering was not yet satiated. And so with a heavy sigh, he pulled her desk's chair to take a seat near her bed.

Dad: "Alright my little girl, you wouldn't mind hearing your own pops theory, would you?"

Susan's eyes shot back to him with an even brighter shine. She nodded.

Her dad raised a brow.

Dad: "So you would mind?"

Susan: "No! I mean like-"

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Susan frowned as she noticed her dad's wide smile.

Susan: "You're tricking me up!"

Dad: "Oh yes I am my little one. Before you grow too old and smart to get stuck in my traps."

Susan kept her exaggerated frown even as her dad pinched her cheeks, the last thing she wanted was to grin and give him even more reason to toy with her.

At her poor acting her father could not help but smile.

Dad: "I love you, Susan."

Susan:"...I love you too Dad..."

Susan's small smile turned large and bold as she learned of what she'd say next.

Susan: "And I'd love you twice as much if you'd tell me that story."

Her father wagged his finger.

Dad: "You shouldn't use such cheap tricks, especially on men. It never ends well. And-"

Susan: "ZZZZZZZZZZZZ"

Dad: "Fine fine fine! I'll save that lesson when you have a boyfriend."

Susan stuck out her tongue at the word 'boyfriend.'

Susan: "Bleh."

Her father rolled his eyes. Then thought of something that widened his smile.

Dad: "Good point, it's important to know this for friends also. Hmm, but I guess even just work needs a bit of it as well. Oh, and you did say over dinner that school was like a job with no payment. So I guess now would be the right time to-"

Susan: "Uggghh! Just get to the story before I die of boredom."

Dad: "Shhh, I will if you stop giving me ways to tease you."

And at that Susan went dead silent. Her father dearly wished it was always this easy to get her to listen.

With a bit of chin rubbing and cheek scratching her father discovered the 'best' way to explain it all.

Dad: "The story goes that our town is older than the country itself. That the natives used to live in these parts. That it was so old that there were no proper houses or even ways to write down what was what. And so the natives found a clever way to remind themselves of what needed to be known...any ideas on what they used my little girl?"

Susan: "o-Oh! I know! They cut their wrists and used the blood that dripped from their arms to give form to magic that would-"

Her dad poked her on the nose.

Dad: "You've been reading too much Bumpgooses."

Susan: "Hmph!"

Susan closed her eyes and raised her head in what she thought was dignified rage.

Susan: "If the natives did not use magic then they weren't as clever as you told me."

Her father leaned back in her chair, rubbing his chin.

Dad: "My my, I must be older than I thought to forget the part in which I said the natives never had any magic. Silly me."

Susan's eyes burst open with a wideness that left very little space for anything but questions.

Susan: "w-What? t-They used magic?"

Her dad nodded.

Dad: "Of a sort, yes. A magic passed down to every one of their people. Taught with the throat and perfected with their hearts."

Susan: "r-Really? What is it called?"

Her dad finger gunned at her.

Dad: "Why it was the amazing magic of stories of course! I-"

And for his teasing, he earned a pillow to his head.

As the pillow dropped her father noticed Susan with her arms crossed and brows sharp.

Susan: "You liar! Don't get my hopes up like that!"

Dad: "But I'm not lying Susan! Stories contain a magical power of their own. They shape how we see the world. How lessons are told. What lessons are told!"

Susan's brows narrowed further.

Susan: "That is not magic. Magic is fireballs. Magic is flying. Magic is cool stuff. Not lame adult symbolicsm."

Her father sighed.

Dad: "Fine, they didn't have any 'REAL' magic. Now, do you want to know why the town is called Calfir or not?"

Susan rubbed the bottom of her chin, making her dad's heart flutter in a way he'd only felt as a parent.

Susan: "Hmm...usually I'd say no..."

Susan grinned in a way that left her father breathless.

Susan: "But if my dad is the one explaining this lame stuff then I'm sure he can make it cool!"

Her father flushed even harder than before.

Dad: "w-Well...okay."

He took in a deep breath and found his balance by its end.

Dad: "Well, long story short, the native's stories are said to survive even to this day. Including the name of their tribe. Known as 'Cafir.' believed to be a shortening of the word campfire. In which they are believed to have spent most their nights with one lit."

Susan: "...Because of all the monsters in the forest, right?"

Dad: "Uhh...probably just because of forests bears sweetie."

Susan shook her head, she knew her father was trying to be gentle by protecting her from the truths of this world. But anyone with a half-brain could tell that forest was haunted. And super evil. And probably had an awesome witch that would teach her cool spells once she learned the basics of magic.

Still...

Susan couldn't help but look at the forest one more time.

Susan: "The name...the stories...everything. Just because of a bunch of trees."

Her father nodded.

Dad: "It's like I said sweety, stories can have a lot of power and..."

Her father looked at the forest, and despite being certain no monster hid within those trees...he couldn't help but listen to the story's warnings.

He closed Susan's window and blocked the forest out with her window's shutters. Susan eyed him, and he couldn't help but chuckle at his own silliness.

Dad: "...And as you can see...Very few stories are more powerful than those born out of fear."

The final section! (Section.)

The end of all approaches...I'd say if I was a try-hard creepy bad guy. Instead I'll say that only this chapter ends...probably.