I woke up to the sound of birdsong and the damp earth. I was face down, and my head pounded. Why was I naked? I rolled over, and I think it had just rained because I was covered in mud and pine needles. As I moved, the birds stopped their song. The trees above were green and lush, but wasn't it fall? ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ n0velfire
I tried to stand, but I felt every bruise, every scrape. My ribs ached. My throat was dry as sand. Had I gotten into a fight? I blinked slowly, sunlight stabbing into my skull. mories ca back slowly to the sorority house. The blondes—no two blondes.
I couldn’t help but smile at the kissing and fondling. Then everything else ca back and my smile vanished. Damn, my night had been going too well. I recalled taking sothing and slowly... Shit, it didn't matter. I needed to find my way back to the city. I wouldn't even press charges if my car were fine. I just hoped I still had a job. I took a tentative step, then another.
The trees were tall—taller than anything I had ever rembered. I thought I had been in a corn field, but maybe I was too fucked up to rember clearly. The trunks were thick and furrowed with age. Pain fired down my spine and into my legs. I stumbled into one of the trees. My arms were scratched raw by the bark. My fingers were black with dirt. I was completely naked and at least had enough sense to keep my lower half from being savaged by the tree.
What the hell was wrong with ? Maybe I should press charges. Hadn't there been a barn? Why was I naked? All I saw were thick pine trees, with needles carpeting the ground as far as I could see. Maybe they ca back and dropped sowhere else. I bet it was Asshole #1 who gave the pill and suggested driving out here. I was absolutely pressing charges against that fucker.
I turned in a slow circle, wincing as I did. The forest stretched in every direction. No corolla. No road. No tire tracks. No barn. That's right, I was no longer in the barn, so my car was not here.
“HELLO!?” I shouted. It ca out as a croak. Nothing answered but a crow cawing from sowhere high above.
I staggered forward. Every movent sent sparks of pain through my legs. My feet were unprotected, and soon bleeding. The pine needles initially helped, but soon the forest floor beca jagged. Rocks. Roots. Hidden thorns. My vision felt off, and every step was a test.
I needed water, food, and clothes. But more than anything, I needed to know I wasn’t alone out here.
I followed the faintest sign of a trail. Maybe an animal or a human. It was barely there, a slightly flattened path through the brush. Branches scraped my face. The wind was sharp, but the sun still let warmth through the trees.
Ti lost aning. I had no watch, and the sun slipped between the trees like a thief taking the warmth. Hunger settled in my gut, and fatigue weighed on my limbs. My legs trembled with every step, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to find a road. The deeper I walked, the stranger the forest beca. Mushrooms grew in odd colors, but maybe that was a lingering effect of the drug. Vines coiled in unnatural shapes. Odd birds sat still, too still, watching my progress.
A low growl made freeze. I spun, heart pounding, scanning the shadows. A wild dog, maybe, or a wolf. They had released wolves in the state a few years back, but I thought a farr got arrested for shooting them all. It was too hard to think, so I found a heavy stick and gripped it tightly as I continued.
I had the sensation of being watched. My paranoia had jumping at shadows and moving faster to find a road before dark. They couldn't have carried too far into the woods—but maybe I was going in the wrong direction. Fuck, how long had I been walking? Three, four hours? I didn’t have the energy to backtrack.
Relief washed over when the trail widened just enough to show signs of recent use. Sothing big had gone through here—maybe an animal, maybe people. I kept going.
I ca to a stream. The water was cold and clear, running over smooth stones. I dropped to my knees and drank like a wild animal. The cold burned my throat, but it was the first relief I’d felt. I drank so much that I vomited into the stream. My stomach was empty of everything but bile, so I must have been unconscious for a long ti. I coughed and spat for a minute before washing my face and drinking more slowly this ti. Even if the water was fouled, I didn't have a choice.
I cupped my hands and splashed my face. My reflection in the stream was barely recognizable. My lips were cracked. My dark hair felt stiff. I had scratches across my cheek and shoulder. Sothing in my eyes looked… off. The deep blue seed brighter, like there was an actual soul behind them. “Get it together,” I whispered.
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Maybe I was still high, still hallucinating. That had to be it. The Golden Teacher, or whatever the guy gave , had hit harder than expected. Maybe I was lying in a hospital sowhere, tubes in my arms, and creating this in my head. But the pain felt too real. I slapped my face. It stung and I didn't wake it up. “Shit,” I lanted the truth.
I kept walking as the sun moved across the sky. Hours went by. My legs felt like jelly. My mouth went dry again. I had no sense of direction, and the trees seed to stretch on forever. Then I slled sothing — smoke.
Not the kind from a campfire, but sothing warm and inviting. It was woodsmoke and the sll of cooking at, and my stomach growled in approval. I pushed onward, through a dense thicket and up a rise. And there it was, the origin of the desires, and it was a village. I nearly collapsed in relief and would have cried if my body could spare the water. Then reality caught up with .
The village sat nestled in a clearing. Thatched roofs, wattle and daub walls, and a few stone chimneys lazily smoking into the air. Chickens pecked at the ground, and a dog barked in the distance. A blacksmith's hamr rang out rhythmically. My legs buckled, and my knees slamd into the ground hard.
It wasn’t just the hunger or exhaustion. It was the wrongness of the place. No cars. No power lines. No satellite dishes. It was like I had stumbled into the set of a Renaissance fair. Only there were no speakers. No exit signs. No vendors peddling food in sneakers. Just villagers in long tunics and leather aprons, going about their business.
I watched them for a long ti from the woods. There was a well in the town square. A woman with a clay jug filled it while a little boy clung to her skirts. A man carried firewood on his back. A young girl tossed scraps to chickens. They were calm. Normal. Not acting.
I wasn’t on Earth anymore. Not modern Earth, anyway. No, it had to be Earth. Was this so cult compound? An extre naturalist commune? Maybe a cannibal cult like in a horror movie. I had no choice but to find out. I limped down the hill, my hands covering my groin, desperate to find clothes before I ran into anyone.
Too late. The first person to spot was the boy by the well. He dropped his wooden toy and stared. His mouth opened in a silent ‘o.’ Then he scread, and people turned. I held up my hands. “Wait! I’m not—”
Soone shouted harshly in a language I didn’t understand. A man ran toward with a pitchfork. Another followed with a net. I tried to run, but my legs gave out from exhaustion. They closed in on in seconds. There were four of them—one had a hooked staff, like the kind shepherds use, and he used it to get my attention by striking my head. I realized I was supposed to stop and not resist. Their clothes were rough, stained from work. Their expressions were anything but kind.
One shouted sothing again. When I didn’t answer, he slapped across the face. Stars exploded behind my eyes. “I don’t understand!” I gasped. “English! Do you speak English?”
They didn’t. Or they didn’t care. The net ca down over . I thrashed, but they tied my wrists with coarse rope, looped sothing around my neck like a leash, and dragged through the dirt toward the village. More villagers gathered. Won covered their children’s eyes. n whispered. One old man made a gesture like warding off evil. They knew I didn’t belong here.
They threw into a wooden pen near the edge of town. It stank of goats, mold, and shit. The floor was packed dirt. I landed hard, knees first. A gate slamd behind and was secured with a thick bar of wood. They left there as the sun dipped low behind the trees. My whole body trembled the entire night.
It was late at night when a man approached . He was dressed too well to be a villager. He wore a dark cloak with red trim. His hair was pulled back into a tight braid. A scar ran down the left side of his face, through his eye socket covered by a polished bronze plate. He stared at with his single remaining eye.
Then he said sothing I didn’t understand. He repeated it. When I didn’t answer, he sighed and knelt outside the gate. His hand went under his robes, and I hoped he was going to give food, but he spoke again. “Na,” he said in heavily accented English.
I blinked in surprise. “Thomas.” My heart raced with hope.
He nodded, satisfied. Then he asked, “Can you fight?”
“What?” I asked, confused.
He pointed at . “You fight or you die.” I stared at him. The man stood up. He signaled to soone behind him. A second figure stepped out of the shadows—a woman in a crimson sash, holding a whip. The man tapped the bars. “I have bought you. Tomorrow, Thomas. We will take you to my ludus.” Then he left.
The woman stood there a mont longer. She looked at with a mixture of pity and amusent. She tossed a hunk of bread and a flask of water. I devoured them without thinking. I had no choice. The water was stale and had an acidic taste. The bread was at least warm and fresh. When I finished my al, I realized I was alone again.
My relief at finding people was gone as the chill of the night air penetrated my flesh. My mind kept trying to process what was happening, but I had never been good at problem solving — creating problems, yes. Solving them, no. Anxiety started to well up, and it was only my imnse fatigue that allowed to sleep.
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