Lost in the Woods

Celine's perspective

Later that day, I would question the strange ways of this universe and come up with almost no answers except for one thing my high school physics teacher once said: If we presume that multiple dimensions exist, then there could be versions of our lives that differ only in the smallest details, perhaps a morning where we took our breakfast slightly differently, or a single word left unsaid that altered the course of future events, or, there could be worlds so drastically different that even the fundamental laws of physics do not apply as we know them. Yet, one thing remains certain. If we accept an infinite number of variations to reality - and we all know how tricky playing with infinity is - then anything the human mind can imagine could be possible in another dimension.

Anything, I remember mentally repeating back then, listening to my teacher. And yet, I was not capable to taste de word. To comprehend it.

Not until I would think of it again.

But before time could take its course and change my life forever, I found myself staring at the edge of the woods, both nervous and slightly irritated.

A gust of wind carried the cool air from beneath the canopy toward me, brushing against my shoulders and sending a slight tingle across my skin. A country road cut through the wall of trees, stretching wide open before me, and a quick glance at my phone screen confirmed I was on the right track. Straight into the heart of the forest.

On any other day, under different circumstances, the greenery and blue sky might have made me enjoy such a stroll. But alas, today I was on the job. And though I had always been eager to explore this place I'd heard so many stories about, irritation stirred in me. Why now, of all times? And really - who on earth builds a house out here?

Summoning a deep breath, I inhaled the crisp, earthy air and swung myself onto my bike. As I pedaled into the woods, the cold freshness felt both invigorating and unsettling.

Then suddenly, my phone rang.

"Are you at work?" Lina's voice came through, her tone as bored as ever.

"Yes. Some weirdo ordered something."

"And why are you calling him a weirdo?"

"Because he lives smack dab in the middle of the forest!"

"Oh." Then a pause. "Are you nuts?" she practically shrieked.

"It's fine," I replied, trying to sound calm. "It's only five o'clock, I have the route on my phone, and I'm not getting lost."

Lina was my best friend since forever, and while I was always the optimist, head-in-the-clouds type, she was the realist and practical kind.

"Sure, but what if he's some kind of crazy pervert or serial killer? It's the middle of the forest, girl. I bet there's no signal out there."

"Relax," I said, trying to calm her down. "I'm just delivering his order and leaving. Anyway, he ordered two flowerpots, a couple of bottles of expensive wine, and a ridiculous amount of tea-like, ten different kinds. Weird, right? But hey, no rope, duct tape, knives, or acid, so... probably not a killer."

"Ugh, you dummy! He doesn't need to order that stuff. A prepared killer already has the essentials at home."

"Okay, point taken," I said with a laugh. "But seriously, I've got a delivery deadline. I'll call you back soon."

"Wait. You're serious?"

"Yes! I'll call in twenty minutes. I might lose signal out here."

"When are you done with work?"

"Six o'clock."

"Alright. You better call me then. Be careful. Please."

"I will," I sighed.

Ending the call, I shoved my phone into my jacket pocket and hopped back onto my bike. The rocky road stretched before me, the map claiming it was a straight, ten-minute ride.

Rumor had it this road was an old truck route used decades ago for hauling gravel from a now-abandoned mine. I wondered if I'd see the mine-or even better, if the house was next to it. Maybe some retired miner lived there, guarding the place.

The thought made me uneasy. Why was I overthinking this? Deliver the order, take the money, and get out. Simple.

But the curiosity wouldn't let up. It started when I first heard someone actually lived out here, then grew when I accepted the order. Now, with every turn of the pedals, it was gnawing at me.

The path narrowed, and the trees grew taller and denser. Faint tire tracks were visible, though the vegetation had reclaimed most of the road. Wild grass carpeted the way, obscuring the rocky ground. Cycling became tougher, and I found myself daydreaming about smooth, paved roads far from here.

Then, to my surprise, the path began to slope downward. My bike picked up speed as the hill steepened. The road was treacherous now, but part of me was grateful for the speed - it would get me out of here faster.

That was when I saw the stream. Although, it was a little bit late.

I hit the brakes, my shoes skidding uselessly on the rocks. Panicked, I swerved to the right, but the sudden move sent me flying off the bike and straight into the icy water.

"Perfect. Just perfect," I muttered, water dripping from my hair as I sat up, shivering.

My bike lay sprawled on the rocky bank, its front wheel bent. The basket had detached, its contents scattered. A dark liquid seeped out of it, and my stomach sank.

"Don't tell me..." I groaned, scrambling to inspect the damage.

Both wine bottles were shattered, their expensive contents soaking into the dirt. The tea bags were soggy, and one flowerpot had spilled its soil everywhere. The flowers were damp and stained red from the wine. I tried to salvage them, but it was no use.

"Could this get any worse?" I muttered, wringing out my sleeves.

Then I remembered my phone.

No.

My heart sank as I unzipped my jacket pocket, pulling out the dripping device. Whispering a desperate prayer, I pressed the power button.

Nothing.

"WHY?" I yelled, my voice echoing through the trees. "Why? Why? Why?"

I stood there, soaked from head to toe, staring at my useless phone and twisted bike. I probably looked like the epitome of bad luck personified.

Grumbling, I picked up the bike and started walking. With no map and no signal, I could only hope the house was somewhere straight ahead. My soggy sneakers squelched with every step, and the dripping basket swung limply from the handlebars.

Let's just hope the man waiting for his order will not be too furious. Should I even bother delivering it in this state? Would he demand a refund? Should I turn back and restock? The questions continued in my head as I trudged forward, defeated, and I couldn't help but feel like a stray kitten-miserable, lost, and dragging its tail behind.

But there was one thing I didn't know. I wasn't prepared for what was to come.