Bold and dark Reimagining of Young Goodman Brown. [[Faith]]
You witness Young Goodman Brown saying goodbye to Faith. He goes deeper into the woods. You can follow him into the [[Woods]] or go back to [[Salem]].You encounter a dark stranger as he speaks to Young Goodman Brown. He unnerves his faith, and offers him a staff. Should you follow Brown as he attempts to go home to [[Salem]], or convince him to go forward and meet [[Goody Cloyse]]YGB notices Goody Cloyse, a respected religious woman from Salem. To his chagrin, she admits to being a witch, and validates the old man as the Devil. Goodman Brown wants to go back to [[Salem]], but perhaps you should [[Rest]] first?Goodman Brown rests for a moment, clutching the staff gifted by the Devil. Suddenly, the sound of horses breaks through the gloom. Do you go towards the [[Horses]], or return to [[Salem]]?The horses noises taper off before you hear the Deacon and Minister of the church, both going off to the Devil's ceremony. Goodman Brown's faith is shaken. Does he continue forward towards the [[Devil's Ceremony]], or [[Salem]] or [[YGB Calls out to Faith]]The figure is unmasked. You recognize Faith, a fellow bastion amid the faithlessness and debauchery surrounding you. They drag you both to a basin, side by side, a hollow carved rock filled with a liquid imbued with a reddish hue. The fire raging in the center of the woods, the heat on your face, you could swear the entire forest was burning down around you.
<img src="https://i0.wp.com/bloody-disgusting.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/172.jpg?resize=960%2C704"
No matter how you stare at it, you could not tell if it was water stained red by the light of the fire, or a cauldron filled with blood. The Devil himself dipped his hand in the liquid, and prepared to consecrate you in a heretical desecration of baptism, prepared to mark your forehead with the evil fluid. You share one look with your wife, doubt and fear evident on her features, before screaming out to her to resist. "Faith! Faith!" You yell, "look up to heaven, and resist the wicked one."
[[Endure]] What happens next. There is no going back.You rip the boy from the grasp of Cloyse, the devil's apprentice feigning shock, as if you assault her without reason. You will not fall for her lies. You herd the child away from the demonspawn, circling the meetinghouse when you see Faith. You watch as the anxiety that was present on her features melts away, replaced by sheer relief and happiness. She bounds towards you, unfiltered joy radiating from her smile as she runs to your side. You think she will kiss you, but at the last moment she remembers herself and is content to give you a bright smile. For a moment it is enough. For a moment, you think her happiness is yours. But only a moment. If Faith had endured, if she had resisted the wills of those demons, she would possess the same despair and caution that now haunts your consciouness. She would not dare to be happy in this pit of evil. She is one of them now. You look down at her sternly, attempting to show her your disapproval, but you think your face betrays the despair you now feel. You turn from her, and walk towards your home. You are [[Alone]]
<img src="https://gettingtotruelove.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/Why-did-he-walk-away.jpg">You do not know if Faith resisted the Devil. You hardly know if you did. Instead, you suddenly find yourself amid a wind so heavy that it was oppressive, the night possessing none of the evil air that has pervaded you mere seconds ago. The wind is almost deafening in its onslaught.
You stumble against a rock, chilled with the cold air of morning, and feel a twig that would have been scorched to cinders mere moments ago sprinkling your face with morning dew. You are in the forest, alone.
<img src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/mt/2015/05/6963630093_cba4fcd578_k-1/square.jpg?1522840702">
You stumble out of the forest, into Salem, as the village takes no notice of your haggard appearance nor shaken faith. You watch the minister as he approaches, his daily walk around the graveyard unchanged even after the devilish ordeals of the previous night. He offers you a blessing and you cower away, unfooled by his unassuming manner. The heretic will not touch you. You hear Deacon Gookin mimicking prayer through his window, falsehoods emerging from his lips as he pretends to have faith. "What God cloth the wizard pray to?", you wonder, as the false prophet lies to no one but himself. Just ahead you see Goody Cloyse, the harlot who gleefully participated in the Devil's celebration just the night before, ensnaring a young naive lad. [[Save]] the boy or...return to Salem? There's nowhere to return to. Everything has changed.
Your next years are a nightmare. You alone stand against the demons of the village, each false sermon, each mockery of prayer grating against your senses and slowly destroying your mind. At times their innocent nature and claims of innocence make you wonder if it was but a dream, but then you remember the harrowing night and realize it is all but lies to make you lose your faith. You almost fainted with the minister spoke of secrets of your religion, of the saints and the future. You expected God to smite them all at that moment, bringing down the roof and ending your misery once and for all. You cannot bear to sleep by your wife, you scurry from her in the night when she asks for your embrace, and stare daggers at her while she goes through the masquerades at prayer, hoping for her to renounce her sins. And even though Faith did her job as wife admirably and bore you many children, and they in turn gave you grandchildren, you were never happy again. The lone faithful amid a den of heretics.
<img src="https://previews.123rf.com/images/holwichaikawee/holwichaikawee1703/holwichaikawee170300049/73851482-the-white-mask-is-surrounded-by-many-black-masks-but-also-provides-brightness-around-the-sides-conce.jpg">
When they bore your body to your grave, it was not a small affair. The entirety of your family was there, all the children and grandchildren, and many of your neighbors. And yet even they in all their falsity could not pretend at your happiness. Even in your dying hours, you saw them for what they were. You did not die a hopeful man, you died desparing at what your world had become.