You wake up on the forest floor. You lie face down on a bed of moss. It takes a lot of effort to lift your head, to get onto your knees and hands.
The world seems to spin. To find which way is down, you squeeze your eyes, ball the moss bed in your fists. Equilibrium comes after a minute or so— time is hard to discern. When you open your eyes, the maple branches seem to move both faster and slower than you think they should.
There’s a layer of smoke between you and the trees. The clearing is filled with the smell of a campfire. Ash floats like snow.
Now that you’ve secured gravity, you look down. Your knuckles are pale as the falling ash. Relaxing your grip doesn’t last; your fingers slap back against your palm like a mousetrap. A drop of blood lands on your right thumbnail.
There’s nothing above you but clouds and ash. The diffused lights makes it impossible to tell what time of day it is. There’s a red circle in the moss where your head lay before. Your face is slick as you roll your hand over it. Your palm comes back red.
Your gaze sticks to the puddle of blood in your hand as you try to remember how you got here. So hazy. An explosion? But why? From whom? You? Was this your goal?
Sharp waves of pain don’t wash over you. Your limbs have the dull ache of overuse, a bad night’s sleep. You half-reposition, half-fall onto your backside, landing by your pack. Every breath is labored; your throat itches. Your eyes strain to take in light, focus through the blur of growing tears.
You take in your surroundings to see if it jogs your memory.
To your left, the moss climbs up a nurse log. Straightening your back to see over its crest, the moss yields to a grassy meadow. Black smoke emanates from a sunken patch of darkened soil a few yards aways. Something glows in the center of the crater, a slow pulsing amethyst. There are no other people in the clearing, no other bodies on the ground.
The urge to move is overwhelming. That pulsing light calls to you; it will answer your questions. It’s a slow process, getting to your feet, but you can eventually stand upright without leaning on the nurse log beside you.
A rustling emerges from the bushes behind you. A flood of adrenaline turns you around in an instant. You reach under your pack to defend yourself with your…
M. Espinosa 