As I wandered in the woods a man suddenly appeared before me. He had an old face with gray hair and a moustache that made him seem somewhat familiar. I could smell whiskey coming off him. "Pray child, do you not recognize me? It is I, William Faulkner!" he boomed out. In response, I began to back up and get ready to run. He sighed and pulled a flask out of his robe. "I'm not crazy and I'm not here to kill you. I've been sent by Heaven to take you on a tour of the afterlife. We're going to start out in Hell and then see how long you keep up an interest in writing this thing," the strange man declared. I blinked, thought about it, then kept backing up. "Wait, that sounds really weird, doesn't it?" Faulkner said. "Hey, if I was insane would I know that when you were twelve you once played hide and go seek with your neighbor, but then went to your house and played Doom instead of hiding?" I could not deny the truth of the story. I headed back into the clearing where William Faulkner stood. He motioned me along and said that he would explain more once we got to Hell. At least I was no longer lost.
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