I felt lost. The paths before me opened up as a myriad of possibilities. The nature of life, infinite and mysterious. But with no clear path for me to choose.

I felt alone. On this lonely path I walk, no one walks with me. No one to warm me as the cold mist gathers around and cloaks me in its damp embrace.

I should be walking, but I don't know where I am going. When I searched inside myself, I saw no clear direction. I don't know where I want to be, so it's hard to know how to get there. I resolved to just start walking and hoped I would pick the right path.

As I stepped forward into the mist, I saw a figure sitting on a log beside the path. An old man, dressed in grey with a walking staff in his hand. His head was down and covered with a hood.

"Have you worked out where you are going yet?" he asked, without looking up.

I was puzzled. I didn't know who this man was, but he seemed to recognise me.

"You were lost before," he said.

"I'm still lost now," I replied.

The old man looked and studied me closely. As he looked, I noticed a glint in his eyes as he started to smile at me.

"It's easier to know where you're going, if you know where you have come from," he said.

As the words left his lips, a realisation dawned upon me. I didn't know where I had come from. I didn't know where I was. This strange forest full of twisting paths that looked so unfamiliar to me. It was a strange land I didn't belong to.

"I could tell you," he said. "But it comes with a price?"

"What price?" I asked, cautiously.

"I could tell you which path to take," he said, with a cold smile. "But in exchange, I would also have to tell you what you are running away from."

"But, I don't understand, what kind of a deal is that? To know my future you would have to tell me my past?"

"That is correct," he said, and he leaned back to make himself more comfortable. "It is one of the deals I offer."

"One of the deals? So there are others?" I asked, hoping to better understand what he was telling me.

The old man grinned with a self satisfied expression that threatened to turn into a laugh at my expense.

"That is correct," he said.

"So what are they?" I asked, my temper starting to rise.

"If you want to know your future, you have to remember your past," he said. "But if you want to forget your past, you must also not know your future."

"But I don't know my past," I said, a hint of panic creeping into my voice. "I don't know where I've come from, so you can't tell me my future."

The old man just looked patiently at me. It was like he was waiting for me to say something else. I just wasn't sure what. Then the thought hit me and I remembered the second deal he had mentioned.

"The deal, to forget my past," I said, slowly. "Did I make that deal with you?"

The old man's face cracked as the anticipation reached its peak, and he burst out laughing.

As the laughter subsided, he began to slowly shake his head. "You usually work it out much quicker," he said.

"What do you mean, usually?" I asked. "How many times have we talked before?"

The old man turned more serious. "You have made this deal many times before," he said.

"But why? Why do I keep asking to forget?" I asked, frantically. "What could be so bad that I would choose not to remember?"

"I can tell you, if you want?" he said, with an amused grin.

"No, wait," I said, needing more time to think.

I wanted to know my past, but a small nagging doubt persisted inside my mind. Why would I have wanted to forget it? What could be so bad that I would have condemned myself to becoming lost in this place? And why had I chosen to make that deal so many times?"

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

"There is no time here, only the past and the future," said the old man.

"But if there is no time in this place, why are you here?" I asked.

"I'm waiting for my friend," he said.

I sighed. It felt hopeless. I was caught in a loop of remembering and forgetting. The whole thing seemed pointless. I obviously hadn't made any progress in however long I had been trapped here. But what other choice did I have?

I walked over and sat down on the log next to the old man. He was annoying and unhelpful, but there didn't seem to be anything else I could do. I was trapped in an inevitable spiral of despair.

The old man looked at me expectantly. He knew what was coming as well as I did. But the difference was that he seemed to be getting some kind of enjoyment from my suffering.

I sighed again at the weight of inevitability.

"Go on then, tell me," I said. "What horrible thing is it that I have done?"