On My Way

The sun rises to come out to play and the warm colors start to contrast and blend with eachother. The trees, paths and bushes, around start to show it's true colors. And the intense weather from eariler in the night becomes less intense, yet still cold. And the sun touches my face.

I sat up feeling a little lightheaded as the sun touches my face where I see a journal on my lap. I look around, my heart's beating and pounding faster. My slightly frost bitten fingers pinch myself on my right wrist to see if this is a dream. The first time I did so, it felt like nothing. Then as I pinch harder, and harder I realize that this isn't a dream. But the real world. My aussmptions, and what I said last night were right. I'm in the forest, in the middle of nowhere, no one to guide me home, and no memory on how i got here.

Just lost and alone.

There's no answer on how, or when I got here. It has felt like amenisa, but only a few parts of it blocked. Not only I want answers, for both my own sake. But as any ordinary 12 year old, I deserve answers. No kid who is curious, (even if it means knowing it the harsh and hard way) shouldn't be questioning constantly. I cough lightly as I start to dust the case off. On the cover itself everything is dusty. Dust particles go with the wind with a swipe of my hand. The journal is a light brown leathered book case with a leathery strap. There's a manget on the strap side and a little magnet on the other to keep it together. My fingers remove the strap as gentle as possible, to reveal on the side of the journal there's black handwriting by. . . . . .anonymous?!

Who in the hell is anonymous?!

I stare at the handwriting, before reading it, I look at it with a slightly not confused but odd and strange look. It's in a fancy cursive writing, and mentions my name a few times. There are two questions that approch my mind when I first saw this note.

1. How do you know my name?

2. Why do I have this journal in the first place?

I decide that now, is the right time to read it maybe the name of the person who wrote this is in there somwhere at least. Which most likely there wouldn't be, as every person who is given something unkown. There isn't going to be a name. It read:

𝒯𝑜 : 𝒦𝒶𝓎𝓁𝑒𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓈,

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝑜 ℐ 𝒶𝓂, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑜𝓌 ℐ 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒. ℬ𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 ℐ 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇. ℛ𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹, 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒿𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁, ℐ 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒿𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁. ℱ𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓉 "𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃" 𝒾𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻. ℬ𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 ℐ 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝑜, 𝒶𝓈 ℐ 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀. ℱ𝓇𝑜𝓂: 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈

I sigh, and close the book placing it into my bag afterward. Either the person in the note or "anonymous" assumes I'm stupid or it just wants to remind me on what to do. That doesn't matter, I know what to do after waking up in the forest in who knows how late.

"I don't know why this note would tell me this," I said to myself in a whisper. "It's creepy and feels stalky."

As I rise to my feet, my stomach grumbles. I take a look around the two paths I have available to me: forward and backward. They both lead to the same place, which may be any place depending on what paths I decide to take. Either back to where I start, and that is here, or along more paths that I have to choose that lead to the unknown. My eyes draw it's gaze at my stomach where the grumbling becomes louder.

Okay, now I need to start walking. I offically have chose to go what is ahead of me and not to look back. "Looking back is a sin, and it doesn't really help if you look back. It's only making you not trust yourself with god." That's one of the quotes my father would say to me before he would leave me in severeal paths on my own. But this wasn't one of those days, or nights at all. It had happened all of a sudden.

And I don't know why.

I took my bag and put the straps on my shoulders. I made sure that everything is in the bag and I'm not forgetting anything. My brown and red streaked hair swaying with the wind, where my stomach grumbles for food. Ahead of me is the path that I chosen. My fate, my destiny. I start to walk foreward, not looking back at the paths behind me.