(Emma's POV)
I find myself surrounded by trees. They tower above me blocking out all sunlight. But the trees are alien to me. Are they even trees? I can feel vines squish and pop beneath my feet as I inch closer to one of the strange plants. Cautiously I reach for the mighty trunk of red bark. Blood bark. A foul breath of wind shakes my tree as my fingers are about to brush the smooth surface. I can almost hear the large black leaves murmur to me.
“Don’t come any closer. You do not belong here. This is our world. Doesn’t the stench of death remind you of that?” The leaves continue to tremble until I retreat.
“If I don’t belong here, why do I feel so at home?” I openly challenge the leaves. How dare they mock me. I belong here; I can feel it. But I do not have time to stay and quarrel with the whole forest. I feel a growing tickle in the back of my mind, gently but urgently nudging me to move forward. Head held high, I stride away from the trees and their disapproval and towards what I know will be the exit of the forest. A strong pulsating sensation guides me in the direction I need to go. A sensation? No, it’s something visible, but I can’t find the words to describe or understand the effervescent shimmer that causes the air to tremble. Nonetheless I know that it is essential to follow it. So follow it I do; past the moist red trees with their condescending leaves, past the odd squirrel-like creatures that dart away the moment they see me, and past the leathery vines that constantly reach for me but always stop less than a foot away.
I have left the forest behind, but no light falls on my face. Everything is still so dark. Nothing my eyes fall on is familiar to me. Shouldn’t I be afraid? All I feel is a deep, soothing sense of home. My limbs are numb and heavy although I continue walking to the center of a field. The ashen grass is exceptionally soft as it brushes my fingers. Gently I stroke the strange grass. My eyes start to droop and I slowly lay down. From my new vantage point I study the sky above me. Purple lightning flashes rhythmically; the field hypnotically fades between light and dark. Ominous black clouds slowly spiral above me. The air is still and warm, like right before a storm is about to break. But there will be no storm. I’m safe here. Unconsciousness threatens to take me. Prickling, more insistent than before, pulls me back into awareness. With a groan, I get up and start walking to the unknown. I must move on. The itching in the back of my mind has grown into an intense pressure. I must move on. I have to reach my destination before time runs out. I need to see what is calling me.
I quicken my pace. My legs become a blur. How long I’ve been walking I do not know. I can’t even estimate. Time in this world doesn’t exist. A steady crunching reaches my ears whenever my foot falls. The grass has been replaced by thousands of small skeletons. Some of them I can recognize as a rat or large bat while others are completely unfamiliar to me. Will my bones join them?
A vague shape of a building looms into the darkness. Through squinted eyes it becomes a large castle of sorts. Is that where I am supposed to go? My heart pounds with excitement. I’m almost home.
All around me small furry animals with large bulging eyes scamper between femurs and crawl through eye sockets. One of them notices me. It follows me in my peripheral vision. I look up once more and notice that the clouds have gotten darker and denser. Their relaxed swirling has developed into a rapid spiral that looks as if it’s moving towards me. It is moving towards me. I instantly realize that the clouds are actually thousands of flying creatures. The moment I look away to ensure my companion remains with me they advance. Hideous flying beasts surround me. The stench of death permeates the air. Hairless misshapen bodies brush against my skin and sunken eyes peer into mine. My friend is no longer with me. Its small life ended with a single snap of the horrible beasts’ jaws. The creatures rush past me, touching me, clawing me, washing me in their sick sent, all while I stand still. A formerly unrealized instinct tells me I need to remain as still as possible and barely breathe to survive.
