Flowers and forest filled with delightful creatures ring Disappointed where animals speak. Winged unicorns fly over the land. The rainbows over Disappointed attract visitors. They enter freely through the arched gateways and walk the manicured paths into the forest.
After an hour’s walk, they come to a scorched wood. They see charred logs and burnt forest floors. Wildlife vanishes.
In the brown meadow, the winged unicorns land. They nibble sadly at yellowed grasses. Rib bones show through their dull and drooped coats.
One lifts its head and makes a hacking couch. A wraith girl lays upon its back, clings around its neck.
“You are lost,” the Guide says. It wheezes, “Lost.”
And you are.
The once clear path has vanished. You continue and find a broken fence, climb over it, and go if you are lucky.
Those who stay — never find their way — become wraiths and haunts.
A broken fence also rings the cemetery Disheartened. Some find this fence and think they have found the Disappointed border. Instead of leaving the land, they enter its graveyard capitol. A caretaker cuts the weeds around the tombstones and crypts and lays wilted wild roses beside the graves.
“Who have you lost? My condolences,” Bertram H. Older says.
He is the caretaker and a Time Centaur.
A herd of scrawny wild unicorns grazes on the thin grass surrounding the headstones. Unicorns are buried here. Wraiths haunt the crypts.
In shallow pools around the gravestones, travelers see reflections in the mossy waters.
"Am I fading? Am I becoming a wraith?” Miss Doe Friend worries.
Many visitors will mourn Disheartened until they die themselves. Weeping keens from every corner.
Weeping willows hang over the graves and drop thin leaves into the pools.
Drizzle comes down, sad and grey, each and every day.
Miss Emeline Traveler returns from her exploration of a tomb to find Miss Doe Friend, “Come my dear, you’ve wept enough, you don’t belong here." Due to Miss Emeline's great skill as a Traveler, she, Doe, and Amma-Pom find the path out of Disheartened and Disappointed.
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