The world is a curious place.

A long time ago a creature lived in the woods. People never dared trespassing on his land for there was a curse put on every living thing who tread along the path, leading towards the bridge where the trees were just faded sticks in the dry, crunchy ground. No animal would lay a foot near this death hole for they have seen the consequences. The water had stopped running leaving a small eroded ditch, the grey brick bridge hovering over it. There was no sound except the wind swerving around the tedious scenery. The woods weren't entirely unhabited, a soul not belonging to a animal nor wise man but a young boy. He wandered around as if he owned the land, wearing nothing but soaked, torn rags. He wasn't an ordinary boy, he could only be seen by those who have percieved death. The unfortunate few who had not heeded the warning, took along the path and bestowed themselves a long, drawn out death by insanity. It caused flashbacks and hallucinations no other being has been through. They spoke of his eyes, filled with gloom. It is said that he was murdered, pushed off the same bridge he haunts today, leaving him unsettled. Apparantly the river water contained a magic which gave strength to those who need it. Once the boy fell into the water, uplifting the magic, changing it into a curse of death. A warning is engraved on a tree stump bearing out, 'he whom walks ahead of hapiness will never experiance it again. Go forth, and you will live with regret and sorrow.'