Line Read

For a moment, I lie here, stunned, the sound of the river rushing in my ears drowning everything else out.

The roaring and thumping from the forest has stopped. Or maybe I just can’t hear it anymore.

Pain flares from my ankle, a honed, insistent throb. I push myself up, spitting out muddy water and gasping for air. I had fallen onto the bank of a wide, clear river.

The water is fast-moving, sparkling in the sunlight as it flows over a bed of smooth, grey stones. On the other side, the forest continued, but here, where I have landed, is an expanse of pebbly riverbank.

I desperately scan the top of the embankment I’d just tumbled down.

Silence. Nothing emerged from the treeline.

“Has it lost me? Is it just waiting for me to reappear? Is the river masking my scent? Was it even chasing me in the first place?”

I scramble back away from the tree line, dragging my injured leg until my back was against a large, sun-warmed boulder. My heart is still trying to beat its way out of my chest, as my entire body trembles with adrenaline and exhaustion.

“The immediate danger seems to have passed.”

As the minutes tick by and the monster continues to not appear, the terror begins to subside, leaving behind the reality of my situation. I am alone, injured, in a world I don’t understand, with no food, no shelter, and no idea what to do next.

This is the moment.

The point where the old me curls into a ball and surrenders to despair. The point where the crushing weight returns. But it doesn’t. Instead, beneath the pain and the fear, is the quiet stubborn resolution forged in that sea of corporeal emotions. I asked for a chance to be brave. This is it.

“Ok” I think, catching my breath.

“First things first I need to survive to just survive, I have some water now that looks reasonably safe to drink. But then what? Sooner or later, I'm going to run into someone. What should I say?”

My mind, the mind of an actress, immediately begins running through past scripts, attempting to craft personas from the dregs of my memory. A frantic audition for my own life.

“Hi, I seem to be lost? Can you help me?”

No that’s not it, it sounds like something a skinwalker would say. And it’s too vague, every follow up question is a potential landmine. One wrong answer and the mask of a simple lost traveller will shatter.

“I… I can’t remember.” The amnesiac. A classic, tempting narrative. It neatly erases the need for my backstory, buying me time to gain knowledge about this place without my awkward questions being scrutinized in too much detail.

But it is also the ultimate vulnerability. An amnesiac is a liability, a problem, and in a world that might be harsh and unforgiving, a problem is often quickly resolved.

I’d also be completely at the mercy of the first person I meet, with no agency of my own. They could be kind, or they could see a blank slate to exploit, a free servant, or worse. No, I need my wits. I can’t afford to pretend they’re gone.

I guess I could just try telling the truth?

“My name is Shikara Kaekari, I’m from this place called Earth. I accidently killed myself which resulted in a manifestation of my own will intervening and placing me down in your forest back there. By the way, do you have any aspirin for my ankle?”

Ok no I don’t think that’s going to work, they’ll either think I am a raving crazy person and lock me up, or think I am a demon who has come to infiltrate their village in some covert plan to burn the whole place to the ground.

I dip my hand into the cool water of the river and splash my face, taking a small sip as I go. The cold shock helps to clear my head.

The water is crisp and clean, with a subtle sweetness. As I cup some more to my lips, I notice a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer in it, like liquid moonlight. I dismiss it as a trick of the light, my eyes still blurry with exhaustion.

Living is all about connection, about building something real. Lying to the first person I meet feels like building a new life on a foundation of sand. Honesty, doesn't have to be a suicidal confession. Maybe the role I need to play isn't a character, but a curated version of myself.

“My name is Shikara Kaekari. I’m a nomad travelling across the country when I suddenly awoke in a forest after being attacked by something I can’t quite remember. I ventured further into the forest in search of water but I was interrupted by a monster that began to relentlessly pursue me. I couldn’t quite make out the features of the beast but I knew I couldn’t take it alone. In my haste I ended up tripping and falling into a river. Do you have any medication here? I hurt my ankle quite badly when I fell?”

I think that sounds plausible, it leans on elements of truth whilst also giving me a part to play. The questions it prompts are relatively easy to answer.

But I will need to be careful not to offer any information freely. Trying to keep my background as hazy as possible is key.

After the initial contact, what’s the next step? I need a purpose, a way to support myself. What skills do I even have that would be useful here? I can act, I can recite lines, I know a bit about film history and literature. All utterly useless in a world that, judging by the raw, untamed wilderness around me, probably values a good blacksmith over a theatre troupe.

I could cook, maybe? I wasn't a chef, but I could follow a recipe. I could clean, sew a little. Basic, domestic skills. It's a start, I suppose. A way to earn my keep while I observe and learn. I have to be useful. That's the key to survival anywhere.

“And I haven’t even considered the possibility that the people I might meet will be savages beyond any reasoning capability. Whose to say they will be people at all for all I know I could walk into a civilization of green headed aliens.”

I might slip into my routine of inaction again if I worry about these things now. It is an absolute necessity that I become satiated with my plan or my survival is in jeopardy.

“One step at a time, Shikara. First, find civilization. Second, deliver your lines. Third, figure out the rest. Simple.”

I turn my attention back to the world around me. My eyes follow the flow of the river downstream. The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky, painting the water in hues of orange and pink.

“I really don’t want to spend the night out here.”