In the Dark

It’s the dead of night. I squint and blink, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Rustling leaves come into view, as well as branches and stones and stars. There is no path under my feet, and I feel a rush of panic. What am I doing here? Why am I here? Who… 

I shake my head. I am Elani Cohen. My mom is Bree Cohen. My dad is Timothy Cohen. I am in…. 

I don’t know where I am. My head feels so foggy and it’s just so black. It’s dark and mucky everywhere, and it’s like I’m drowning in sticky syrup. I look down and of course, there’s no path. I don’t know what I’m doing. Where should I go? Surely someone should be with me right now, telling me where to go? 

“Are you lost?” A voice says from behind me. 

I spin, but there’s no one there. I couldn’t tell if the voice was male or female, quiet or loud, but I heard it. I heard it as clearly as I can see the stars in the sky. 

“Why are you lost?” The voice says again, this time from the right of me. It sounded like five people speaking at once but no one spoke at all. 

I spin again, but no one is there. Who is talking to me? Why can’t I see them? Is it too dark? 

I take a step, and at first it feels like my foot is falling through thin air and that it’ll never hit ground and I’ll fall forever, but then it lands. It’s a little lower than my other food. I must be on a hill. How did I get on a hill in a random forest in the middle of the night? 

“Hello?” I say, “is someone there?” 

“Someone other than you?” The voice or voices say. “Who are you?” 

For a second, just for a single second, I swear I don’t know. Then it hits me. My name is Elani Cohen. My mom is Bree Cohen. My dad is… 

No. How could I forget my dad's name? My dad, with his dark hair and round glasses and soft nature. I see him picking me up as a little girl, twirling me around. Timothy Cohen. My dad's name is Timothy. 

“Are you lost?” The voice repeats, and this time it’s whispering directly into my ear, and the sound seems like it’s coming from the inside of my clouded head. “Are you lost? Are you lost? Are you lost?” 

It circles around and around until it’s all I can hear or think so I close my eyes and put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear it. 

It works. There’s no noise. I take my hands away and open my eyes, and it’s so so so dark. Where am I? I look up and see stars glimmering between branches and needles and leaves. Why am I in a forest in the dark? Why is my head swimming? Where am I going? 

I see a light. It flickers distantly in front of me, turning on and off like a strobe, until finally it keeps a steady stream of light. That must be where I’m heading. Light is good, especially in the dark of night. I take off at a run, but my feet don’t land where I think they will and I think I'm on a hill because I fall and now I’m rolling and rolling and rolling. I scrape my elbows and knees and bang my head. I can smell wet grass and blood, and wind blows in my face. I’ve stopped rolling. I spring to my feet and look around for the light, vision swaying and knees weak. Thankfully, the light is still there. I keep walking, trying to be more careful. I don’t want to fall anymore. 

I’m walking to the light, and I see stones and tree trunks and I wonder where I am. Who put me here? Then I realize I don’t know anyone. I only know me, but who am I? 

Who am I, who am I, who am I, who am I?

The light gets bigger and brighter until it’s right in front of me, so I reach out to grab it but just as my fingers wrap closed it disappears. 

I sigh, and wonder what to do next. Where am I going? Who am I? Am I lost?

There’s a gentle splash, and I look beside me to see a pond. It’s so small it could be a puddle, but something about it seems like. It seems like a deep dark puddle as scary as the forest coming alive around me. I kneel by the puddle, and I look down into the water. Even though it’s dark and it doesn’t make sense, I can see my reflection. I have dark skin and freckles all over my face. My hair is shaved down to my head and I’m covered in scrapes and bruises. I can’t remember how I got them. 

As I look into my reflection, a thought jolts me awake. My name is Elani Cohen. I know my name. 

Something pushes my back and now I’m falling into the pond, and I’m expecting it to be wet and for my head to hit the bottom but I fall through into air. I'm as dry and warm as a summer day. 

I’m standing on the beach. My feet are hot in the sand, and the sun blares down onto my shoulders. To the right is the ocean, as vast and beautiful as ever. To my left… is me. I’m younger than I am now, racing my parents along the coastline, little legs carrying me as fast as I can go. I remember this. I’m seeing a memory. 

I get hit with a white flash and now I’m in my living room. I remember my childhood home. I remember the floral wallpaper and the old piano and my moms pans in the kitchen. I see myself sitting on the sofa, sixteen years old. I have a kitten on my lap. My cat. I remember my cat. 

Another white flash hits me and I’m in my apartment. I have my own apartment in the city, where I work at a bookstore and go to university. I see my cat sleeping by the window, and my best friend crying on the couch. I remember that I have a best friend. 

I’m there, too. So is my mom. My mom… she’s telling me something. I step closer to hear her. 

“... have to leave,” my mom is saying, “you have to go, Elani. Through the woods. You know the ones. They’re coming to get you, Elani. Right now. I can’t tell you who. I can’t tell you why. Go through the woods, remember who you are.” She pushes a compass into my hands. “Keep going south, no matter what. Water is your friend. Repeat your name over and over. Repeat me and dad's name. You know how the forest makes you forget, but you have to be strong. Go through the forest, Elani. Find what’s on the other side.” 

One last white flash leaves me gasping on my knees back beside the pond. I remember. My name is Elani. My parents are Bree and Timothy Cohen. My parents study the forest, which I was never allowed in as a child. Some people didn’t like that my parents knew about the forest, so they hunted them down for it. Now they’re after me. I’m in the forest. I’m in the forbidden forest my parents studied their whole lives that makes people forget who they are. I have to get to the other side. 

I dig in my pocket and pull out a compass. I turn until it points to the south, and I start walking. My name is Elani Cohen. My mom is Bree Cohen. My dad is Timothy Cohen. I am to go south through the forest to get to the other side. I am to look out for water. Water helps memory. 

I walk, and I repeat the words so many times they start to lose their meaning, and I’m saying them but I forget why I’m saying them. So, I stop. 

I keep the compass in my hands. It helps. I don’t know why I’m holding it but I know for sure that it helps. The arrow points south, so I assume that’s where I’m supposed to go. I remember my name. I remember my parents' names. I know what my best friend looks like. I don’t know where I am, exactly, but I think I’m not supposed to. I have a compass in my hand and it’s pointing south so I’ll follow it. 

I walk and I walk and I walk.  

Eventually the compass gets heavy in my tired arms so I slip it into my pocket, but as soon as the weight leaves my hand something primal and painful causes my heart to jump so I pick it back up again. I lift it, and see that it’s pointing south. I suppose I should continue in the same direction. 

I walk some more, and I wonder what I’m doing here. How did I get here? The sky is orange and pink, making the forest look like a museum painting that was too pretty to be real. I don’t know why I’m in the forest, but I’m glad I am. The view is incredible. Birds fly and chirp around my head, squirrels dance in the trees, and I’m able to make out the million shades of green spread out before me. Up ahead, I can see the forest thinning, and it looks like it comes to an end. I frown. I don’t want the forest to end. It’s so pretty. I think I could live in the forest forever with all the colours and the woodland creatures and the pretty pink skies. 

My legs are shaky and sore, and I jump in surprise when I see that my pants are ripped and caked with dried blood. When did that happen? I look to the end of the forest, and I decide that I don’t want to leave. I sit down in the long, tickling grass, and let my muscles rest. It feels so nice, being on the ground. I can smell fresh dirt and wet grass and the pure, fleeting scent of fresh air. It’s so nice I lay down and close my eyes, but just for a little while. I remember my name is Elani, and I have a compass in my hand. I can’t remember much else, but I find that it doesn’t scare me. 

I didn’t mean to sleep but then I’m awake. The sky is blue with fluffy clouds, and a rabbit scurries away as I sit up. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. Was I drugged? Why was everything sore? Why am I so beaten and bloody? I move to lift myself off the ground and my hand bumps into something. A compass. Then, I remember one thing. I remember I’m supposed to go south. I don’t know why, but it’s the one only thing I know so I have to trust it. I pick up the compass and stand, turning so I’m going south. 

The end of the forest is just in front of me. What a stroke of luck. I can’t wait to get out of this place. I move so fast it’s almost like I’m running, hopping over roots and ducking under branches. When I finally get out of the forest, I realize I’m in someone’s yard. 

The glass is freshly mowed, and a quaint blue house with a white pointed roof and a lovely porch sits upon it. A flower garden resides in the middle of the yard, and on the porch sits an old lady on a rocking chair. 

Then the memories hit like a tidal wave and I almost pass out. Parents, friends, achievements, disappointments, home, love, belonging. Everything, all at once. 

I made it. I went into the forbidden forest and I made it. I choke back a sob, and clutch the compass in my hand. 

The old woman on the rocking chair looks up from her book. She sees me, and her eyes widen. She takes off her glasses and puts down the book, and then she starts to stand. I walk to meet her half way, because I know I shouldn’t make an elderly woman move more than she is able. I jog up to the porch and climb the stairs, where she’s waiting by the top. 

Her hair and skin were of a light brown, and she was shorter than me by a couple of inches. She had no freckles and had a small nose, but there was something deeply familiar in her eyes. The woman blinks in confusion, scanning over me in disbelief. 

Finally, the woman looks up to me with wet, relieved eyes. “Bree.” She says, “You found your way home.”