White. Piercing.
The light was intrusive. It forced its way through my eyelids, pulling my consciousness from the void.
I took a deep breath. The air felt heavy, damp, and thick with the scent of overly fertile soil—a mix of fresh moss and the cloying sweetness of rotting fruit.
I sat up.
The ground beneath my palms was cold and soft. It wasn't just damp earth; it held a faint pulse, as if I were sitting on the skin of a slumbering giant.
Trees towered around me, colossal wooden pillars with bark that resembled dried flesh. The canopy above was suffocatingly dense, choking the sky until only distant, pale blue fragments remained.
Silence.
No sound of engines. No hum of electricity. No trace of civilization.
I dug my fingers into the earth, pressing my nails down until it hurt.
This reality was solid. Coarse. Indifferent.
I reached into my pocket. My fingers brushed the familiar surface of a cardboard box. Cigarettes. A lighter. Small trinkets from a past life that now felt like sacred artifacts.
Flick. Shhh.
A flame sparked. Small, orange, steady.
I brought the tip of the cigarette to it and took a deep drag.
Hot smoke filled my lungs, burning my throat with a familiar ache. I exhaled slowly. The grey haze drifted, a stark contrast against the painfully vibrant green of the forest.
Here, in the middle of nowhere, nicotine was the only thing that made sense.
Location: Unknown.
Status: Alive.
Objective: Survive.
I stood up. My joints felt stiff, but functional.
The forest was too quiet. It wasn't a peaceful silence; it was the silence of a predator holding its breath. I began to walk. My sneakers sank slightly into the humus with every step.
The flora here was malformed. Flowers with barbed petals, fungi exuding faint vapor, insects crawling with far too many legs.
I kept walking. Without direction. Without hope. Driven only by a primal instinct to not remain in one place.
Suddenly, the frantic flapping of wings broke the stillness. A flock of birds—or something with wings—fled in a panic from my left.
I stopped.
What was the date again? My biological clock suggested it was morning. If my math wasn't off, back in the old world, today was my birthday.
"God, or whatever threw me here, your sense of humor is terrible."
Slither... squelch.
A sound approached. A wet friction. Like raw meat being dragged across stone.
My body reacted before my brain could process it. I crouched behind a giant fern, holding my breath.
There. Fifteen meters ahead.
A transparent mass refracting the forest light. A slime.
It wasn't a cute creature from a video game. It was a walking sac of acid. The size of an adult dog, it quivered, searching for prey. Inside its clear body, the remains of squirrel bones were slowly dissolving.
Grotesque.
Squelch. Squelch.
It stopped. Its body condensed, as if sniffing the air, despite lacking a nose. Then, it turned. Straight toward me.
Whoosh!
It launched itself. Fast. Far faster than gravity should allow—a grotesque projectile of burning acid hurtling straight for my face.