Where… am I?

I don’t know how I got here…




I awaken, heaving in an agonizingly slow breath. The air is chilled, the ground around me cold. I pull my cardigan closer to me, pulling my legs up until they meet my chest, sighing in surprise as I look around.

Blades of grass jut out at peculiar angles underneath the branches of tall, evergreen trees. I run a hand through my hair, resting it finally on the brown bark of the tree that sits behind me.

I take in my surroundings, reaching my hand out to trace the petals of bright yellow wildflowers that nurse my small frame in their arms. Endless forest surrounds me, it seems to stretch on forever into the distance; a mess of creeper vines, fallen branches, and decaying leaves.

I have never seen so many trees.

I glance up at the sky. There’s very little, it seems, in colour. A pale grey; overcast. It looks like it could rain, but it doesn’t. Instead, branches sway in the slight breeze, rocking back and forth in swift, erratic motions. My eyes trail down the trunk of a tree, brightening as I spot a hole in the trunk, a small barn owl blinking at me.

At least I’m not alone.

Soon, my eyes hit the ground once again. But it’s different…

The ground is rockier than before, the colour a dark brown rather than the bright green of the grassy area I seem to be lying in. I pick myself up, walking towards it. There are two directions it takes; a right and a left, both leading into a series of thick shrubbery.

I take the right path, careful not to tread on the stones that seem pointed and painful. Soon, the dead branches and tree trunks that line the path slowly morph into unruly rose bushes. Specifically, blood red roses.

Thorns begin to overcome the narrow pathway, and I find myself pushing branches back, careful not to tear my clothes or tear my skin.

Hang on…

There’s something rusty and sharp in the distance, sitting where the rose bushes completely overcome the path, and there is no way forward. I strain my eyes to see.

It’s a knife of some sort with a long, thick blade; the metallic head glints in the poor light. I glance over the rose bushes before me, and begin sawing my way through them.

I heave a deep sigh.

There’s no way forward from here…

I retrace my steps, deciding instead to take the other pathway where it forks. There’s another rose bush, like the last though much smaller. I take the knife, holding it up to the bush, tearing my way through it, to reveal a new narrow path.

The knife broke…

I shrug, following the pathway along. Red roses become black, the trees becoming as barren as a desert, their leaves dead on the ground.

There’s a house.

Tall, two storey, high windows that I would never dare to leap out of. There seems to be a balcony of some sort on the higher level, but the barriers around it seem worn and broken, wooden planks splintering.

The house looks old. The bricks seem to be weathered, the paint that must have once covered them almost non-existent, though flecks remain under the edges of the roofing. Even the roofing, the tiling, is damaged. Possibly from branches falling or other forms of weathering.

It looks deserted.

‘There’s nowhere else to go…” I tell myself.

“Hello?”

I jump, scanning my surroundings. I see a tree stump off to the side, a black cat with flashing yellow eyes staring out at me.

“You can’t have spoken to me,” I tell it.

Silence.

I’m going insane…

I turn back round, ignoring the cat, though it continues to eye me intently.

“On the contrary.” I jump, whirling back around.

“So… I see the way out is blocked up by roses.”

The cat… it’s mouth is moving.

“Are you going to go in?” It asks, tilting its head to the side. I follow its gaze, staring at the door before me. There’s something ominous about the place, and I can’t place it.

I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to know what lies ahead; I don’t even know if someone would still live out here in the forest.

“I… I don’t know…” I tell it. I can’t believe I’m talking to a cat…

“Might as well, if you can’t leave,” it reasons.

“I… suppose…” I splutter.

I press my hand against the door, letting out a small gasp as it squeaks open. There’s a small hallway, old lamps mounted on the walls. The lamps are on. They flicker curiously, despite the air in the room being still and stale.

“Hello?” I call.

No response.

I find another door and press through it, glancing across the almost empty room before me. There’s some sort of writing on the wall; a yellowed piece of paper taped to it, the writing a cursive font.

Drip.

Drip drip.

I look up, noticing an odd puddle of red forming on the roof. I hear the sound again, and I follow the path of a drop of the substance down to the ground. I prick up my nose, covering it with the end of my sleeve.

The room smells like copper, and I can’t help but have a sickening feeling at the pit of my stomach.

Is that… blood?