I woke up with a throbbing headache and immediately knew something was wrong. The most glaring evidence was the feel of grass under my foot as I attempted to get off the mattress. I shot up in a panic and looked around. Somehow, I was in the middle of the woods. Scattered around me were items from my room.
My backpack, groceries, empty boxes—even the cupboard I used to keep clothes in and the stove from the kitchen. Pretty much anything not nailed down.
My first thought was that it was the work of my landlord forcibly evicting me while I was asleep. But even he wouldn’t go to that much effort. Besides, why would he throw out the cupboard and stove, which he owns? Then my eyes fell on the book from last night, and I took a step back.
It must have been laced with some kind of psychedelic or something, I rationalized, picking up a small twig to flip through the pages and trying to figure out what had happened.
A sudden chirping from birds reminded me where I was, and I began looking through the scattered items, searching for anything useful. I didn’t know if any of the nearby woods had wolves, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way.
I checked the groceries first and was horrified to find a pair of mice poking around inside. I stomped my feet and they ran away, leaving me to assess the damage. The eggs were shattered, most likely by the mice, and ants swarmed what was left—same with the apples. Thankfully, the water bottles, my chocolate bars, and two bottles of water were fine, along with three cans of tuna. I removed the damaged items, secured the bag tightly, and placed it inside my backpack.
I then fished out my phone—an older flip phone I had bought for 10 pounds. I tried calling the police, but there was no reception, which was concerning. That meant I was far from civilization.
After strapping on my backpack, I finally approached the book. Part of me wanted to leave it there, but another part was curious—curious about how the book had brought me here. I was still convinced that drugs were somehow involved, or maybe it was a stress-induced hallucination. And so, against my better judgment, I picked up the book and placed it inside my backpack with the rest of my belongings.
With everything accounted for, I began walking away. Obviously, I left the mattress, cupboard, and stove behind—they were too big to carry.
Hopefully, I’d be able to find shelter before nightfall.
Two days. For two entire days, I had been stuck in this forest, walking aimlessly. I spent most of the day walking before making camp (and I use the term loosely) when dusk fell. I was down a bottle of water and a can of tuna. Thankfully, I had managed to forage some berries that—thank God—weren’t poisonous.
Still, it wasn’t too bad. I hadn’t encountered any wolves yet, and my lighter helped me start fires when I camped. Nice to see my smoking habit was, in a way, helping me survive. As soon as I made it back to civilization, I could put this behind me, call it an "experience," and never speak of it again.
Then I heard something. Horses. And it sounded close. I quickly turned toward the sound, hoping it would lead me to a farm or ranch. The forest was denser in that direction, slowing my progress. I kept almost tripping over roots or getting poked by low-hanging branches. But I pressed on, until finally the foliage gave way to a clearing. I caught a glimpse of several people in the distance—right before my forehead collided with a branch. I cursed up a storm and bent over in pain.
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Several footsteps frantically approached as I massaged my forehead. I slowly raised my head, ready to ask for help, but the words froze in my throat at the sight of them. Five men stood before me. Three wore worn, medieval-style leather armor. One wore metallic armor like that of a medieval knight. The last man was older, dressed in what looked like honest-to-God wizard robes. The first three brandished a sword, an axe, and a spear, their faces contorted with fear and anger.
"Was there a Ren faire nearby?" I muttered, raising my hands instinctively. Their expressions, and especially the weapons, unnerved me. Something about them looked too real. The weapons were old and used—not like the pristine, plastic props you'd see at a Renaissance fair.
“Lo—Look, I don’t want any trouble, okay? I got lost and was hoping for directions,” I said, preparing to bolt back into the forest.
“At ease, men,” the armored one said, approaching. He removed his helmet, revealing a middle-aged man with graying hair, neatly cut, and a well-groomed beard. He turned to me and demanded,
“State your name, stranger!”
“Ermis. My name is Ermis,” I replied.
One of the men muttered something about foreigners, and I groaned inwardly. Ermis was the name the orphanage gave me, since my parents were supposedly Greek.
“What Hold do you hail from?” the knight asked, eyes narrowed.
“Hold?” I echoed, confused.
The knight’s gaze hardened.
“You’re not from a Hold? A village, then? Or a city?” he asked again.
“I’m from Westminster. London,” I said. The knight exchanged a look with the wizard.
“I’ve never heard of a city by that name. What Kingdom do you hail from?” he asked, voice harder.
“What Kingdom I hail from?” I repeated, dread sinking in. Did I just stumble into a group of hardcore cosplayers—or nutjobs—who think they’re in some kind of fantasy world? Either way, running into them was starting to seem worse than wandering the woods alone.
“The captain asked you a question, outsider,” said the axe-wielder—a heavy-set man at least a head taller than me. His tone was hostile, and he took a step forward.
Panicking, I bolted toward the forest. I heard yelling behind me and heavy footsteps as they gave chase. But just before I entered the foliage, something grabbed my leg and pulled me into the air—like one of those snare traps from cartoons.
Except... there was no rope.
I looked down and saw a swirling pocket of wind holding me aloft. I thrashed, stunned, but it held me firm. The group caught up quickly. I saw the wizard with his hand outstretched, muttering something, a suspiciously familiar book in his free hand.
“No way… No way this is happening,” I whispered. It must be a trick—smoke and mirrors. Maybe this is some kind of prank show. Anything to explain what I was seeing.
“Ha ha. You got me. Very funny, guys. You can bring out the camera crew now,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. No one reacted. They just stared at me, deadly serious.
And then I snapped.
All the frustration I’d been bottling up—being jobless, homeless at 23, lost in the woods for two days—it all came boiling to the surface.
“Seriously, this isn’t funny! I have no job, I just lost my house, and I’ve been wandering the woods for two days. I am not in the mood for whatever this is!” I screamed, not just at them—but at the whole damn world.
The knight walked over to the wizard, and they began whispering. Their conversation grew heated, though still too quiet to hear. Even the other men seemed to be straining to catch what they were saying.
Then, suddenly, my body jolted downward. I looked up at the swirling wind—just in time to see it slow, then vanish entirely.
And I fell.
Straight onto my head.
Hard