Putting one foot in front of the other, that's what it is to walk. I don't know when I started; now? Yesterday? A year ago? I can't remember. The rhythm of my feet crunching through snow is the only thing I know. Left right left right.
What is my name? : A question I ask myself over and over, like a song on repeat, or like it's stuck in a wormhole. My family has escaped the box of my mind; I'm sure I have one, though. I know what it means to love someone, I know what family is, so I must have one somewhere. I'm sure I have one...
Trees overhead sigh and groan in the wind, the wind talks to them; perhaps it talks about me. Doubt answers this feeling however, I am too insignificant to be noticed by the ethereal wind. The sun has even neglected to come here.
The snowy path through the close-knit trees represents a feeling of hope for me. My family must be waiting at the end of it, that's what family's for. Or maybe it isn't.
"Come here to me," says a voice like that of the wind's. "I will help you."
Saying nothing, I glance at where the sound came from. A figment of my imagination, that's all it was. A murmur of the mind. Crunch, crunch, crunch goes the snow; that's the only sound there is.
"Don't you feel lonely out there? Come to me. I can take away the loneliness," perhaps the voice was not the wind's. The wind does not enunciate; it drags the vowels. I've noticed.
I walk a little faster. It isn't talking to me; I can't be noticed by anything or anyone. Going to it would bring me off the path, and it sounded insincere.
I see a shadow in the trees to my right. Strange, the only shadows I've seen are those draped from the trees. This shadow moves, its shape is strange; is it like mine? Maybe it's another one of me.
"Why do you run from me, child? Don't you want this path to end."
This time I want to say something, make an utterance of warning or of gratitude or of sadness. Maybe I should be comforting it, maybe it is forlorn as me. I say nothing, or rather I cannot make a sound.
I sit against what must be a tree: I feel its rough bark against my back. Exhaustion takes me over, I must have been walking for far too long. I want to sleep, my eyes are heavy and the tree surrounds me like a blanket and cradles me.
I see an insect as it passes me by, a small form of life, and I wonder if it's come for me. Maybe I've died and it is headed towards the putrid smell of death. Wouldn't it be nice to know that this wasn't real. I would be relieved at the prospect of never having existed here. Maybe I don't exist. This helps me to relax, sinking into the softness of the tree. Sinking into sleep. Maybe I won't be part of reality by the time I wake up.
Then the tree starts to suffocate me, its blanket pulling me too tight. It grabs at my lungs and scrapes my skin, I don't like it here anymore. I stand up, free of the crooked fingers that tried to snatch me, and I run. I run as fast as I can down the path, but the trees all reach for me, bending, growling, cursing, and I cover my ears as the wind screams. I shrink to my knees at the piercing sound and my ears start ringing church bells. I lie in a puddle in the snow, tasting the metallic bite of water, and feeling cold for the first time amidst the chaos of my surroundings.
"Come here." An eerie silence sets in.
"Come to me. You need me, child, come let me help you."
My feet are difficult to pull from the earth, my head is so so so heavy. This is a bad choice. Or maybe it isn't; because nothing can affect someone who doesn't exist.
I run through the trees and fall into the arms of the shadow. It cradles me, pulling me in. I get closer, then it begins to envelope me like an icy lake. I don't mind though, it is good to know someone is here.
It whispers in my ear, "there is no end. You are not real."
I smile at the shadow, or maybe I don't; see I cannot smile for I am nonexistent. I know because the shadows speak the truth.
I am nothing.
"Thank you."
