Authors do not choose a story to write, the story chooses us.

I think you’ve forgotten that this place holds a lot more than justbetraying Hobgoblins. Call upon the spirits, summon fairies, raise thedead! My brother, you have the power to do so--now get off of your buttand use it!

I didn't even notice that my shoes were full of mud by the time I reached the rocky shore. There was ragged yellow police tape tied to some branches, dancing in the wind. It was as if the tape was waving, welcoming me back to place where I would have died.