I don't know how most of them are doing until they come through my home or I get a confirmed kill report.
I try my best to get to the scenes of their demise, and find what I can to salvage from their belongings. Be it info, journals of their last days, or sentimental tokens of their lives to remember them by.
But sometimes.. sometimes things are brought to me as bribes for protection or safe shelter. And sometimes, items literally show up in my path.
This is one of those items.
The sharp-eyed should figure this one out quickly, anyway. I don't need to hold your hands on this one.. I hope.
"I'm dead. I have to be, there's no reason on Earth or in Heaven why I could still be alive. This is hell, it has to be. Its Hell. This endless weary existence i've fallen upon, trudging these leaves beneath my feet. I feel like I've forgotten everything, every principle part of existence. Laughter, Hunger, Tears.
Well that's not all true, I remember some things. Shame, regret, fear. I can't be dead if I feel, can I? Everything's so monochrome. I walk along a path of black leaves, everywhere I go, and I never find the end. I don't remember why I walk. I just know I need to. Keep moving, eyes forward. Avoid the trees
The Trees
I feel like I deserve this. Every bit of it. That I did something stupid, something horrible, that I cost people something valuable.
This is hell. This is my penance
God help me I'm so tired."
The page crumbled at the edges as I set it out to read again and document.
Ash now coats my hands.
Your job, now, is to figure out who wrote this page. I know by handwriting, but I'm aware that's unfair.
So. I will give a hint. The name is literally somewhere on this page, and not in the image. The answer is staring you in the face. Look very closely.
Oh, there is a false lead or two for the veterans.
First to figure it out gets to ask me any question they want answered, within reason.
Enjoy your little riddle, kiddos.