The Forest

Fateful Encounter

I awaken slowly in a cold sweat, feeling more exhausted than when I had fallen asleep. As per the norm now, I suppose. Slightly disoriented, I look around and realize the windows are still tinted red, though it's darker than last night. Aged. Though, hasn't it onlyben a few hours? Logically speaking it shouldn't be so dark yet.

Shaking my head, I sigh and collapse back onto the bed, throwing an arm over my eyes as I squeeze them shut. I swallow the lump in my throat as I try to get past that grotesque figure in the dripping lines of all that blood that's imprinted itself in my brain. . .

Last night really did happen, then. It wasn't all just some horrible, terrible nightmare that would evade me in the morning after a nice hot shower. Not that I'd have the motivation to take one anyway. I don't have motivation to do anything, for that matter. So, instead, I do the most productive thing I can think of and sit curled up in the bed as I silently cry my heart out.

I'm not one-hundred percent sure why I'm crying, though I feel like I should. I just know that if I do get a good cry in, it'll ease me somehow. It'll let some pressure off my thoughts, and just maybe I'll figure out how to get the hell out of here.

Once the foggy, helpless, pathetic feeling passes and my head is a bit clearer, I wipe my tears from my swollen eyes with a sigh and go to stand up. But I stop. Something is wrong. It's nothing I can see or hear, but I can feel something is wrong. I'm not alone.

It's only then that I realize I can see my breath. It's colder than I remember it being when I woke up, and I can feel it progressively getting colder. I look at my arms and watch as the hairs shoot up, goose flesh running along them as I shiver. I feel as if I've just been dropped into a freezer.

For some reason, even though I know I should, I don't feel panicky. I'm not scared, or stressed, or nervous. For some weird reason, I'm completely calm as I crawl carefully out of bed and wrap my arms around my violently shivering body. As my eyes shift around the big open room, I realize it's getting. . . Darker? I frown at that. That doesn't make any sense. It can't be past noon, and yet it seems as thought the sun is rapidly setting inside my little hut, as if it were turning to night right before my eyes.

I watch as the shadows lengthen, crawling up walls and spreading out along the floor. I watch them with wide eyes, my breath caught in my throat because I'm sure they're going to start moving. They're going to stretch and grow, turning into limbs and tentacles. They're going to turn into that figure that's been plaguing my every thought for so long I can't even remember how long ago it started.

Only now does my heart begin to pick up its pace. Only now do I start to feel anything but calm. My hands start to shake, and not from the cold. My jaw clenches and unclenches as I gnaw ruthlessly at my lips.

Suddenly, something floats past my face, making everything inside me freeze. I stop hyperventilating as I watch it drift to the floor. Furrowing my eyebrows, I close my eyes for a moment, comprehending. I try so hard to comprehend what I just saw because there's no fucking way.

Like, there's just no way I just watched a fucking snowflake land on my rainbow-socked toe and melt into the fabric, leaving the tiniest wet spot in its wake.

I open my eyes and stare at it for a time, not knowing for how long, before looking up just as another floats past me, then another, and another. I tilt my head back just to be sure, and, as I thought, the ceiling is right there, yet these snowflakes are appearing out of the dark air as if through a window I can't see.

Mindlessly, I slowly stretch my arm over my head and reach for the ceiling, extending my fingers as far as they will go as I try to feel something, anything I know won't be there. But, to my surprise, a snowflake lands in my palm. My eyebrows raise as I lower my arm and stare at it. It doesn't melt or evaporate. . . It just exists. I stare at the tiny, intricate, perfect imperfections until it finally does cease.