A Grim Mistake

The rough feeling of a leafy branch across his face woke him up. He brushed it away and sat up, wincing as he pressed his hand on something sharp that broke into shards under his weight.

"Wha-?" He said after opening his eyes. He was surrounded on all sides by tall grass. His bed was gone, replaced with a soft, dirt ground. Behind him was a cluster of thorny bushes, including a nest of thorns right underneath his hand. He grunted in pain as he got up and pulled the thorns out. "What's going on?" As he stood up, he rose above the level of the grass, and looked around. All around him was abstract and surreal plantlife. The grass was a deep dark green and each blade was abnormally thick, creating a smooth sea of green that covered everything below his knees. Dotted around were huge, dark trees with massive canopies and pitch black, dry looking fruits, and between the trees, grass, and thorny bushes scattered around, were giant, thick roots that ran through the ground like veins, just barely jutting out from beneath the grass level. High above the trees was a black, empty sky, void of moon and stars, but somehow the area was lit up by some invisible presence, allowing him to see a reasonable distance but beyond 30 metres or so was nothing but darkness.

Nicholas wanted to move, to explore this place, but he was stuck transfixed, taking in all the details. He bent down and ran his fingers along the tips of the grass. He noticed they were all an even length, as if it had all been neatly trimmed, he looked to the trees and spotted the tidy way all the leaves and branches were arranged.

There was a particular order to everything, like someone had rigorously arranged everything so it was the way they wanted, it all fit together so well, with dark but beautiful colour combinations on the trees, with the dense undergrowth tying it all together. He felt like he was standing in a painting. "I must be dreaming." He said.

"Nicholas?" A woman's voice came from behind him. "Is that you?" He turned around, but there was nobody there.

"Hello!?" He said.

"Nicholas!" The voice called again, louder this time. It came from the far distance in front of him, too far for him to see who was speaking. Who is that? He thought. "This way!" Instantly, he felt dizzy and exhausted. His legs started to move without his brain giving them the order to do so. He started to walk forward, towards the voice, but then he stopped himself, snapping out of whatever was happening to him.

"Ugh…" He shook his head. "What was that?"

"Come on Nicholas, this way!" Nicholas considered it, but there was something in the back of his mind telling him not to.

Don't go. Words ran through his mind. Turn back. Run. He started to turn away, then turned back to face the voice, then turned again, indecisive. Eventually he stopped and firmly planted his feet towards the voice, and took a step forward.

A figure emerged from the edge of his view, obscured by the darkness, but close enough for him to make out its frame. The figure towered over the surroundings, almost managing to touch the tree canopies with its head. It looked to be humanoid in shape and from where Nicholas was it appeared to be wearing a long gown that went down to its feet, but he wasn't sure. He came closer, squinting at it, trying to get a better look, when he saw its hands. They were large and jagged, like they were made from a sharp, rigid metal, and they were dripping with a thick substance that he couldn't discern from where he was standing. The figure stopped at a point where he could fully make out its silhouette, but it was still too far away for him to make out any real detail. "Come to me, child." Nicholas took another step, but then his face and torso collided with something hard and invisible.

"Gah!" He recoiled back and tripped over something, tumbling to the ground. "Oof!" He shut his eyes in anticipation, suppressing a shout of pain as he impacted the floor, and opened them again.

He was back in his bedroom, away from his bed and over by the door. "I sleepwalked?" He scratched his head, he didn't normally sleepwalk, or at least, nobody told him he did. "Huh, odd." He said. He stood up and got back into bed, grabbing his phone. The time showed it had just gone 5 in the morning, Owen still had not replied to his message, which further grew the worry in his gut.

He lay in bed for a couple more hours. Once the clock hit 7, he sat up on the bed and fished through his drawers for some clothes, selecting a tough pair of jeans, a simple, long sleeved shirt, and some socks. He turned and looked out the window and saw black clouds in the sky and trees still getting pushed around by the wind, but the rain, at least for now, had stopped.

Downstairs, Cliff was sitting at the large table in the kitchen, absently watching a toaster on the other side of the room. He quietly grunted when Nicholas entered. Opposite him at the table was the boys' mother, bleary eyed and frowning as she worked her way through a crossword in an old magazine. Nicholas could see tear stains on her cheeks, as well as the bloodshot red in her eyes. He would've asked if she was alright, but he already knew the answer he'd get. I'm fine, boy, just leave me be. He remembered her telling him every time he asked how she was doing. He'd noticed that since a handful of months ago, his mother had changed. There was a large family photo framed on the wall above the table.

In it, Nicholas, Cliff, and their parents were standing in front of a beach on a sunny day with a bustling pier in the background. It had been taken 7 years ago on his father's birthday, Nicholas remembered his father himself saying it was one of the best days of his life. It certainly looked like it, he looked at his father in the photo, he was hunched with a walking cane, and had a bald head with crooked teeth, but that didn't stop him from being the jolliest man in the world, his big smile standing out amongst his wiry, white beard and wrinkled face. Nicholas then looked to his mother in the photo, a cheerful reflection of the woman that sat underneath it. She was wearing a colourful, flamboyant dress that sharply contrasted the bleak gown she usually wore now, her hair was nicely done, she stood up straight and tall, and was beaming from ear to ear, all traits that she just didn't have now. To a stranger, it would have been a stretch to think that the woman in the photo was the same one sitting at the table. Nicholas frowned, but there was little he could do, he didn't want to press the issue and risk upsetting her further.

He took a box of cereal from the counter and poured out a bowl before taking a seat. He ate quietly, and quickly, made uneasy by everyone's silence. He wanted to speak, but on his left was a woman that he knew he didn't stand a chance of starting a conversation with, and on his right was Cliff, and talking to him was its own challenge. He looked at his phone while he ate, Owen still had not responded. I need to go check.

He finished the bowl and washed it out in the sink, drying it with a tea towel and putting it back in the cupboard before heading for the front door. His coat was still damp on the radiator, so he checked the cupboard under the stairs and found his spare, beige jacket hanging up. He put it on, along with his pair of hiking shoes that were in there, and left without a word.

2 cars were parked in the driveway. One was the family car, an old, rugged vehicle his mother had owned before she even met his father. He walked past it to the other car in the driveway, his car, brand new and polished, with a spotless interior. He often spent more time taking care of it than he did driving it, since his workplace was only just down the street and he rarely went further than a handful of blocks. Keeping the car nice and tidy was more something he did to pass time than something he actually needed to do, but now was a time when he did need the car. He got in and flipped on the air conditioning, before turning the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.

He took a few turns to get out of the neighbourhood, then got on a long road with dense woodland on the left. He kept going for a while before a left exit appeared, and he took it, switching from the smooth concrete road to a rough, bumpy dirt one as he entered the forest.

He already knew exactly where the campsite was, it was Owen's regular spot, where he camped out frequently. Nicholas had been invited, but declined on this occasion, knowing the weather that had been forecast. Another car entered his view, a hefty SUV, that looked completely beat to hell. Even from a distance, he could see it covered in dents, and all the windows were smashed in. The tires were all shredded, and a lot of the paintwork had been scratched away, even a bunch of the bodywork itself had been ripped away. "What the-?" Nicholas stopped his car as he got next to the ruined vehicle, got out, and peered inside. Nobody was in there, no blood and no sign that someone was hurt, just an abandoned, wrecked car. "What happened to you, then?" He went to open the door, but then he noticed the chain that was covering the handle, and wrapping all around the car like a rope tying it down. He followed the length of the chain until he found its end, buried into the ground. "Huh?" He went around the front and saw another set of chains keeping the bonnet shut, and also had ends stuck in the ground. He grabbed one of the end's and tried to pull it out but it wasn't budging. "How'd this happen?" He ran his fingers along the chains. They felt unnaturally cold, and smooth, and he found it difficult to let go of them. "Something's not right." He spoke his mind aloud.

Reluctantly, he got back in his car and drove off, continuing down the path until he made it to a simple parking lot, which was really just a flattened out patch of forest with short wooden posts and dirty rope separating each space. Owen's car was parked there, though it was in much better shape than the one Nicholas had passed. He parked next to it and got out, finding the path to the campsite, made obvious by all the trampled vegetation and footprints in the mud. He followed it for a few minutes, until finally the campsite came into view. Fuck. He thought as he made out the destroyed tent. "Fuck!" He ran over, careful not to slip on the muddy ground, and saw another tent just behind the first one, that had also been totally ruined and collapsed into a sad pile of fabric and tent poles. "Oh shit." He dug through the wreckage of the first tent, it was filled with scattered belongings, but no sign of any person. He ran to the next tent, and it was the same story, empty save for a bunch of assorted camping supplies. "Owen!?" He called out. He took out his phone and called him again. It started ringing, then there was a sudden burst of music that came from the ruins of one of the tents.

He fished around inside until his hand ran across Owen's phone, buried underneath all sorts of supplies. He swept away his call showing on the screen, then the phone displayed an unread message: NICHOLAS - Hey dude, everything alright over there? He felt uneasy as he read it. He took the phone with him and started to walk away from the tents. "They must've sheltered in the ruins."

Just another minute of walking and he reached them, a whole village worth of collapsed buildings hid amongst the greenery. In some parts, there was a piece of building still standing and relatively intact, holding steady better than the tent he owned. The ruins were a well known landmark of these woods, but Nicholas wasn't sure where they originated from. Nonetheless he knew them well from visiting them on previous trips, if Owen and his group had sheltered here, it would not have been the first time. "Alright, chill out, he's gotta be here somewhere." He began to search around the ruins, peering inside each building that was standing, as well as around smaller, ruined chunks that someone could have sought cover behind. Just as he finished looking behind a heap of cracked stone bricks, he noticed an odd shape sticking out of the mud by a large building that was more whole than most of the surrounding ruins. He approached it and pulled it out of the ground, it was a sturdy boot, with a nametag inside, reading Grayson, Owen's surname. A few steps ahead of the boot was another, this one was only barely visible, maybe a few more hours away from sinking into the mud entirely. He pulled it out, and sure enough, it matched the first one.

He looked ahead to the building, it had an intact doorway but the door itself had long worn away. Inside, he could see a backpack, already recognising it as Owen's before he stepped inside. As he came in, he saw that in the middle of the room, was a trapdoor made from rotting wood that had been swung open. It had a ladder going down, and at the bottom he could see a bright light coming from a small object. A flashlight? He thought.

They've gotta be down there then. Without a second thought he grabbed onto the ladder and descended into the cellar, cringing as each rung creaked and threatened to snap. He picked up the flashlight once he made it down and shone it forward. In front of him was a single corridor with a battered wooden door on each side. He peered into each room, one was a spare bedroom of some kind, while the other looked to just be storage, with crates stacked on top of each other and shelves crammed with assorted junk.

Further forward was another door that was already wide open. He shone the light inside before entering, and gasped. Whatever this room used to be, it was unrecognisable now, destroyed pieces of furniture were strewn about all over the room, as well as scraps of clothing, and a couple backpacks leaking their contents, he recognised several of Owen's things among the mess. Opposite the door, was another, closed door that he went for, but it was locked. His hand partially stuck to the doorknob, and as he pulled it away and looked at it, he could not hold in a short scream. The knob was covered in blood. "Oh, shit!" He looked around for something to wipe with, grabbing a piece of torn shirt and cleaning the blood off his hand. "What the fuck!?"

"Who's that?" Someone said from behind the door. "Is someone there?" Nicholas froze.

"Y-yeah, it's Nicholas." He pressed his ear up to the door and listened.

"You're not one of them, are you?" It was a woman's voice, she sounded young, and afraid, but he didn't recognise her. He thought for a second, unsure of how to reply.

"N-no, I'm not one of them." He wrapped the torn shirt and tried to open it again, but it wasn't happening. "Can you open this from your side?" Just as he let go of the handle, he saw it rattle from the other side, but it didn't open.

"It's locked." The woman said. Nicholas thought for a moment. "Wait." The woman's tone changed. "W-where are we? What is…what is this?" She started to speak faster, and stuttered rapidly.

"It's just a cellar, it's alright. Hang on for a minute while I try to find a way in."

"No! Wait! Don't leave me!"

"Hey, calm down, it's alright I'm not going anywhere, I'm not gonna leave you-"

"Ah! She's here! She found me!" The woman cut him off. Before he could say anything else a blood curdling wail came from behind the door. "Help! Help me!" He started to hear banging from the other side. Fuck! Instinctively, he grabbed the handle, and threw his full weight into the door. It gave slightly, but was still holding fast. He hit it again as the screaming continued.

"Hold on! I'm coming in there!" The door gave way a little further with each consecutive ram.

"No! Leave me alone!" He heard a glass smashing and wood splintering as he struck the door again. The woman screamed again, but something cut her off and Nicholas could hear her muffled struggling. Shit, I've gotta help her! He barged the door again, and again, until finally, the door crumbled under a final hit, but he didn't have time to shine the flashlight inside, before a black smog came flooding out of the room and blinded him.

"Ah, fuck!" He choked on it and tried to fan it away with his arms to no avail. The woman's struggles fell silent, and darkness blurred his eyes as he continued to helplessly flail his arms. Then, just as abruptly as it had arrived, the smog vanished into thin air. It took him a second to realise, as his eyes were squeezed shut, but when he could no longer taste it in his mouth or feel it in his nostrils, he opened his eyes, and it only took him a second to see that he wasn't in the cellar anymore.