Welcome to the swamps, sticky and gross. Here you will find all others who are lost. 

The swamp is a dark and dreary place. With a darkness weighing down your very soul. One can walk for many miles in its murky waters and never reach its ends. It has its peaks, and its lows. The lowest the waters go are up to your head, be careful not to get your feet stuck in the mud. The highest points still with thick and viscous mud to tread through. If you are lucky there is a boarded path here and there, but you will still sink into the waters at times. The waters are murky and brown, filled with leeches and other unsavory creatures. Some of the creatures here can grow to be quite large and are always looking for a meal.

An old man treads his way into the swamp. He cannot remember who he was. His eys downturned and his back hunched from a long life of work. He has his arms cross over his body. Shivering for warmth. He wades through the waters. Looking for something, anything in this dark and dreary place. The darkness seeping into his very bones as he wanders. So cold. He wanders for what feels like days. Though it was taking years. He knew time was passing by in moments but he had grown blind to it. It was only when he saw a flicker of light in the distance that he showed any sign of life behind his catarac filled eyes.

He slowly walked towards the flickering light. A beacon of hope. His only hope. While the time passed much the same he was taking larger steps. holding his arms closer to himself to conserve energy as he treaded through the waters to this single point of hope. A lantern hanging from a pole in the swamp. It's light was dim and flickering. As if the wick was burning low.

As he reaches the lantern his eyesight begins to clear, even if only breifly. He could see the lantern and its cracked glass its rusted metal frame. He simply stood by it for a time. Feeling the warmth of its light. He did not grow younger. Nor did his eyes magically heal from this. However he did warm slightly. Enough to continue his trek throught the swamps. When he had warmed up as much as he could he looked around. Trying to pick a direction from this high point. From here he could spot another light. Very far in the distance, at the edge of what should be possible without the fog. He started in its general direction. 

In the swamps you are always tired. The temptation to sleep always pulling at the edge of ones thoughts. The darkness saps you of your very will. Yet the old man continued on. He did not know where he was going, nor did he know what the light was. All he knew was that it was there. Once again time passes. What feels like years of time passing in days as he find himself at another lantern. Like the last one he warmed himself until he was ready to go. Once again another lantern at the edge of sight. He continued on.

This happened over and over. Time passing faster and faster. Until he finds himself on top of a hill. Far larger than the usual high point which was only a few feet across. only enough to hold a lantern, and to not be knee deep in waters. Also in difference to the usual he saw people. There was the lantern, held high above the others. There was also a campfire. 

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"Hail" one of the others by the fire says. Tired eyes mirroring his own. One of their weary hands raised in greeting. "Come join us."

He did.

"Who are you?" asked one of the people by the fire. A young looking boy.

"I don't know." said the old man.  "what is yours" he asks in reply.

"I do not know." said the boy. 

"hmm, not good for one like you to be here" the old man intuits. He sits himself by the fire, staring into its depths. 

"How do you know that. No one else knows what theyre doing here" 

"perhaps" the old man allows. "I might have been here before" he offers as a possibilty. 

"you think you could help us"

"no" he states firmly. "I know no more than you. I am only able to inuit, I believe." He does not sound sure of anything.

"Oh." the boy says dejected.

The old man continues to stare into the fire. His eyes growing ever more clouded. Until the light of the flames are simply a flicker in his clouded eyes. "don't stay still forever." he whispers. "sloth will kill you here" he starts to list. He takes a final breath, and sleeps for the last time.

The boy looks over to the old man, seeing his dead eyes. "You could have at least helped us."

"Perhaps I did." he hears the old man whisper beyond hearing. "I could not be certain"

"If I leave, will I be able to remember." he heard nothing more beyond the veil.

He looks around. There are two people here. There were three, but now one is gone. "I want to go home" he whispers.

"Then leave." says the woman on the opposite side of the fire. He knees close to her chest as she stared into the flames. Her eyes were glazed and she was not really looking at anything. She was only waiting.

"I'm afraid" he says simply. "I don't want to get lost."

She doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at the flames.

"How do I know which way is the right way"

"I've wandered her for awhile" she starts. "I think there is no right way. A lamp will always come into sight eventually" she decides to stand up. Perhaps that old man did have some wisdom in his last words she thinks to herself as she stares at his corpse.

"Wait." the boy calls out. "can I come with you?" he pleads. 

She thinks for a minute. Then shrugs. "sure" 

So they walked, into the swamp. Where the lowest and the downbeaten wander for their way out. Their spirits broken, and their memories eroded. Until their only hope is to stumble into a campfire or lantern. There is no map with a path out, no road markers to point the way. Just the murky brown waters, and the darkness weighing down on you. The only thing keeping anyone going is the knowledge at the edge of thoughts that there *is* a way out. It might take a thousand lifetimes, but it is possible. One must just keep walking.

Welcome to The Swamp.