Trough Food

This place is weird - Uncanny in its design, familiar yet unknown. A place where every face is different, every corner unfamiliar. It speaks of secrets, secrets about the heart - a place which seems to have no limits. The bushes and trees look new. A single click, a single breath feels off, but it is calming.

I wasn't here before; in these woods, I was coming from a dinner party. I was wearing a pressed long sleeve red shirt, not plaid but plane, a red tie, and maroon suspenders - As well as khaki colored suit pants, and shimmering brown dress shoes. My hair is the color of milk chocolate. I felt the sensation of falling, I was lost, like I was on the edge of the horizon, then a sudden noise, and I looked up; I could see the sun on the branches, the leaves were rustling. Then it happened; I couldn't move. I couldn't move in my body, or my eyes, or my limbs, and I could barely breathe. I'm not in this place, I am in myself; a place where I don't belong, and no-one will save me. I have nowhere to run, I have nowhere to hide, and I'm terrified. I can't remember the last time I was scared of anything in my life.

Where did I come from? Where did I go? Where did I-? Am I Cotton Eye Joe? I don't know where I am, I don't know where I went, so I am Cotton Eye Joe. I should move forward. My body is still. My legs are still. Everything is still.

I moved forward.

The trees are tall and thick, each a milk chocolate color with emerald colored leaves. They're not leaves, but more like a singular leaf, but with green veins running through them, and a slight crunch in the soil beneath their feet. I walk further down the path. The trees feel different here - the air is cooler, the grass is more humid, the plants are more abundant. These plants here are more alive, and more dangerous.

I'm moving slowly now, not sure what I'm looking for. I hear a rustling in the bushes to my right, something coming closer, then it's gone. I stop and look around, and then I see it. I see a few other people, people! They're sitting around a fire, when did they make this? How long were they here for? Are they really alive? I walk towards them - who are these people? They can't be here, why are they here?

I walk into the circle of people, they're staring into the fire, they can't look at me, I am a stranger, a horror. My eyes focus on a woman, she has long, blonde hair, her skin is slightly yellowish, and her features are soft.

"How'd you get here?" I hear a man's voice. I traced the voice to a face, he was sitting on a log; his hair a short brown, similar to the color of almonds. This man wore a strikingly white sweater, almost like snow. He had on blue jeans, and what looked like plain black shoes.

"I don't know. I was in a field then made my way here." I paused, "Was it similar for you?" I ask.

The almond-haired man looked upon the other's faces, each having a near identical reaction - A hivemind of sorrow, almost.

"What happened to your skin?" Another man with hair the color of straw, with a face that resembled a cow, his skin was cracked.

"Excuse me?" I was confused, my skin felt fine, so it should be fine. Even without that, though, what a weird question. What am I doing here? What am I looking for?

"You look like a death victim," said the almond-haired man. He took a deep breath, looked at me with an expression of what I'm sure he considered disgust.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, rather irritated.

"Your skin." He looked at me with an emotionless face, like the other two had.

"I have a complexion flaw, but I also have eyes like sapphires," I smiled, the men did not return the favor. I shook my head and smiled, the almond-haired man moved closer to me.

"I wasn't talking about your skin. How did you get here?" he asked.

"Dinner party, that's all I remember though." I answer.

The almond-haired man leaned forward, "Not even your name?" He was now asking me more questions.

"No. But you can call me Joe, if you want." I offered.

"Fine. Joseph, then." He returned, though his expression did not change.

I sat with the other two people and they spoke to me about the situation. I stayed quiet, letting them do the talking. I felt tired, I felt sluggish. I wanted to sleep. I rested my head against the pine branches above me. A cool breeze kept sweeping through my hair. I thought about all the things I had done so far, which was little to none. It wasn't hard to sleep, with the fire wrapping its warmth around me like a mother with a blanket; however, I didn't want to sleep. I'm terrified of sleep, not because I think I will wake up in a horrible nightmare, but because I think sleep is a way to the grave.

I wake up and it's dark, pitch black, and the fire is out. I am sitting up, looking at the others, who are still asleep. They look as if they've died; their skin is drawn, their teeth are jagged, and their eyes empty of life. I stand up and walk away from the makeshift camp site. As I walk, I hear crying, it's quiet and slow, almost soothing, yet at the same time, more disturbing than anything I have ever heard before. I continue walking, in the distance, I see a dome of food and other necessities. A large monitor looms over my head - As if mocking my face without even existing.

Why is there a monitor anyway? I walk over to it. its screen is what looks like a stone tablet, with writing that looks like ancient text. I can see an image of a man, something that looks like him, his eyes sunken into his head. He looks lifeless. I reach out to touch the image, it's cold. I close my eyes and sit down on the grass. My heart pounds rapidly. I then hear a light rustling; looking up I see the almond-haired man in the distance, it seems like he hasn't moved at all. He stares down at me, in a form of pity.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I question.

"Because I don't think you're going to make it." he admits.

"Why? I haven't done anything wrong." I reply.

"You haven't had a proper meal. You can't tell me your stomach doesn't know. I have an idea."

I walk over to him, I take a chair from the table, sit down, and take a bite.

"You're a clever boy, are you not?" He asks me.

"I guess I'm okay. Why are you here?"

"Well," He sat down, "Same as you. Stretching my legs."

"So you don't think I'm going to make it?"

"I don't know that. You're alive, that's all I know."

"But… what if there's someone else out there? What if I'm not alone in this." I pleaded.

"Don't be fooled by the fruit, Joseph, they keep it here for newcomers like you." He said coldly.

"What do you mean?"

"There are others." He whispered, "But they haven't come this way, not in a while."

"How do you know that? Who are they?"

"The monitor." he pointed towards the dome, "Every morning a broadcast plays instructing newcomers and reminding old timers." The almond-haired man grabbed a fruit, "This is poison," he jabbed his forehead with his finger, "Poison!"

"What's your name?" I ask the almond-haired man. "I forgot to ask you yesterday."

"It's Ashford." He replied.

"Is that your real name?" I push further.

"No, nickname." He said. His body language suggest he's uncomfortable talking to me. He then stood up. "I'm leaving now, I already know what that thing is going to say. You on the other hand don't, so you stay here and eat that fruit if you want to believe in something."

Ashford then left.

I started eating the fruit. As I eat, I let it fill my head. What am I going to do? I have no money, no supplies, no clue about anything, I'm all alone, with only the clothes on my back.

And suddenly a slight tapping - The monitor turns on.