Where am I?

“What is this place?” I wonder out loud to myself.

I feel like I have just woken from a sleep that lasted for a year.

I am standing in the middle of a densely wooded area, but there isn’t a sound to be heard. I don’t hear the wind blowing, animals skittering around, or human noises.

Nothing.

I have lived in the city my entire life, and I have no idea where I am, why I am here, or how I got here.

The strangest part is that the world around me is moving.

I can see the trees swaying in the breeze. The water in what may be a pond ripples gently, and the grass moves lazily back and forth.

But I can’t hear any of it.

The world around me is eerily silent.

I look around, trying to gain my bearings and make sense of what I have woken to, but nothing is familiar. The longer I stand here, the more uneasy the silence makes me.

I look down at myself.

I’m wearing a dingy gray shirt and a pair of jeans, with black work boots on my feet. My waist-long blonde hair is pulled back slightly at the back of my head.

At least I look like me.

Mostly.

The last thing I remember is going to bed at home after saying goodnight to my family.

Now I’m stuck in the woods in God knows where, wearing an awful outfit.

“What is going on?” I ask out loud.

I still can’t hear myself.

That might be the most disturbing part of all.

I have to start moving. The sun is going to set soon, and I definitely don’t want to be stuck in these dark, silent woods after nightfall.

But which way do I go?

I search for trails, footprints, broken branches—anything that might show me where to go.

There is nothing.

Not one thing to tell me which direction I should take or what might be waiting for me out there.

Nothing to hint that other people are nearby.

Nothing to suggest animals live in these woods.

Nothing to put my mind at ease.

Standing here isn’t going to help, though.

I have to move.

I choose to head toward the brightest part of the sky.

It isn’t much of a plan, but right now it’s the only one I have.

I move carefully, watching every step while keeping an eye out for threats or any other signs of life. I can see the grass crunching beneath my boots, but I can’t hear it.

Losing my sense of hearing—or whatever is causing this silence—is making all my other senses work double time.

Every shadow catches my attention.

Every movement makes me turn.

Not being able to hear anything makes me constantly feel as though something could be sneaking up behind me.

I keep telling myself the same thing.

Move.

Find somewhere safe.

Make it through tonight.

Tomorrow, I’ll have more time to figure out what is happening.

And how to get home.

Thankfully, the direction I’ve chosen takes me toward the only body of water I can see.

As I near the pond, I realize how thirsty I am.

Not normal thirst.

I feel as if I haven’t had anything to drink in days.

I hurry the last few steps and kneel at the edge.

The water is the clearest I have ever seen.

I lean closer and find my reflection staring back at me from the mirror-like surface.

Blue eyes.

Blonde hair.

Small, crooked nose.

Me.

Except...

I lean closer.

Something is different.

My blue eyes seem somehow bluer and brighter than I remember. My blonde hair looks more golden than before. Even the details of my face seem sharper.

I touch my cheek.

The reflection does the same.

“That’s me.”

At least I assume that's what I say.

I still can't hear my own voice.

Everything about my reflection is familiar, and yet something is undeniably different.

Something is different here.

The crystal-clear water looks impossibly clean for a pond in the middle of dense woods. There is a shimmer across its surface, almost as though tiny crystals are hiding beneath the water.

It feels inviting.

That probably should concern me.

The thought crosses my mind that the water could be tainted.

Poisoned.

Full of bacteria.

Or maybe drinking mysterious sparkling water in a silent forest is exactly how people end up in even worse situations.

But my thirst wins.

I cup my hands and scoop up a small amount.

“Just a little.”

I bring it to my lips.

The instant the water touches my tongue, every concern disappears.

It is the best water I can remember drinking.

Cool.

Clean.

Refreshing.

I scoop up another handful.

Then another.

Soon I give up trying to be cautious and lower my face directly to the pond, drinking until the unbearable thirst finally begins to disappear.

When I can’t drink anymore, I sit back and wipe my hands against my jeans.

Then I wipe my face.

Dirt smears across my palms.

I stare at it.

Another reminder that something happened to me.

Something I can't remember.

I dip my hands into the water again and wash the dirt from my face.

As I do, I try once more to remember.

I crawled into bed.

I said goodnight to my family.

I went to sleep.

Then...

Nothing.

There is simply a blank space between my bed and waking up in this forest.

No memory of traveling.

No memory of being taken.

Nothing.

After getting myself somewhat clean, I stand.

Whatever happened, staying beside this pond isn't going to give me the answer.

I start walking again, continuing toward the brightest part of the sky.

I hope it leads to civilization.

People.

A road.

A building.

Anything that makes sense.

After walking for a while, I notice something in the distance.

A haze.

I stop.

At first, I think something is wrong with my vision.

I blink several times.

The haze remains.

Maybe I’m hallucinating.

Or maybe the water from the pond is doing something to me.

Considering everything else that has happened, neither possibility seems particularly unreasonable.

But the haze is the first new thing I have seen since waking up.

That makes it worth investigating.

I change direction slightly and begin walking toward it.

As I get closer, I realize the haze isn't one color.

It isn't blue.

It isn't gray.

It isn't green.

It is somehow all three at once.

The colors swirl together, constantly moving and shifting.

I slow down.

“What is that?”

No answer.

Not that I expected one.

The haze almost looks alive.

With each step I take, the colors seem to move differently, swirling around one another as though reacting to my approach.

Eventually, I realize it isn't a haze at all.

It's a barrier.

A massive wall of blue, gray, and green stretching across the forest.

I can't see through it.

I can't see where it begins.

I can't see where it ends.

For the first time since waking up, I feel something other than confusion and fear.

Hope.

I have no logical reason for it.

For all I know, whatever is behind that barrier could be worse than the silent forest.

But it is something.

Something different.

Something that might finally give me an answer.

Maybe there are people beyond it.

Maybe there is a town.

Maybe there is someone who can explain where I am.

Maybe there is a way home.

I start walking faster.

My tired legs protest, but I keep going.

The strange colors grow brighter with every step.

Blue.

Gray.

Green.

Swirling together.

Calling me closer.

I don't know what waits for me when I reach it.

I don't know whether it will save me or make everything worse.

But right now, it is the only thing in this impossible world that seems to offer any answers.

So I keep moving.

Toward the unknown.

Toward the light.

Toward the barrier.