The Other Side of Alone

Fear and anxiety kept jolting me awake.

Every sound in the forest set me on edge, turning even the faintest noise into something eerie. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the thought of being stranded in an unfamiliar place.

I managed to doze off for minutes at a time, only to wake up, alone with my thoughts.

Paranoia had taken hold of me, each awakening sending me into pure panic.

I was absorbed by an unsettling feeling of being constantly watched.

It seemed as if the overdue moon, a wickedly bright smile, larger than I was used to, sprouted in the sky as an all-seeing being, simply there to watch me struggle.

I felt like an impostor, like I wasn’t real.

I was certainly going to be killed.

There was absolutely no way out of this.

“Who am I?” I frantically murmured, itching and grabbing my body.

“Why? Why am I not myself?”

Questions kept piling up.

“Why do they keep watching…?” I gasped shakily, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Why are they here? Why… Why am I here? …I’m-I’m going to die. Who are they?”

Restlessly shifting, I moaned in distress. Exhaustion tried closing my eyes, but fear kept me awake.

The thought that I might already be dead slipped through my mind. The fear of dying surged back, fuelling my painful headache.

“Why are they watching me?” I cried, echoing through muffled whispers. “Why? Why? Why?”

My whole body itched.

I clawed at my legs, nearly opening wounds.

Rashes spread all throughout my swollen skin, especially on my limbs. The leaf I was using as a cover only made things worse, its every touch setting me ablaze.

Desperately tossing it aside and reaching for my bag, unable to tell if it was cold or still wet, I pressed it against my legs to soothe the irritation.

“Why… Did I die?” I muttered ever so slowly. My eyes burned red and my mouth was extremely dry.

It was a simple question whose answer I couldn’t seem to find.

Fearing the real me would come for revenge, worries continued to gather.

I forced myself to calm down with some deep breaths and let the buildup of fatigue guide me to sleep once more.

I repeated this same process time and time again until the sun rose, light shining directly at my face.

With little sleep and my stomach growling, I was forced to wake and focus on the tasks ahead.

As I stood up, a wave of dizziness hit me, momentarily dimming my vision, and my headache worsened. My cracked lips burned dry, and a faint throbbing pulsed behind my temples.

Lightheaded, I rubbed my forehead and ran my tongue over my parched mouth.

After putting my now-dry clothes back on, the accumulated stiffness in my back hit me at once. A dull ache flared as I moved, spreading through my muscles after hours spent lying on an uneven, hard surface.

It was uncomfortable but mild, the least of my worries.

With the forest now more visible, as sunlight pushed through denser areas of foliage, I got a better grasp of the terrain.

I noticed on the other side of the rock I slept on, a drop between two and three metres high. If I had actually slept well, there was a real chance I could have rolled over the edge in my sleep.

I lifted my head, still unsteady, and glanced east, towards where the sun would rise. Moss painted the right side of the trees and rocks, where the shadows fell.

If I remembered right, that meant I was in the southern hemisphere.

It would explain why I hadn’t frozen last night, despite having no heat, even though it was almost December.

“How could I be so far away from Japan?” I deliriously asked myself in a small voice, almost discarding the possibility of still being alive on earth entirely.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought aside, and focused instead on what little I knew that might help me survive out here.

Eyeing the green carpet clinging to the side of the rock, I recalled that moss sometimes worked as a filter.

My parched mouth rejoiced at the thought of finding rain trapped inside.

Moaning huskily, I reached out.

The spongy cluster gripped the surface as I pulled it towards me. Rushing it above my mouth, I squeezed, but barely anything came out. Droplets trickled down my hand onto my arm, and only a few splashed onto my tongue and chin.

“Didn’t it rain heavily yesterday?” I thought to myself, though my memory was foggy.

I vividly remembered yesterday’s cloud-riddled sky and the wetness of the cold grass, but there hadn’t actually been any rain after I got here.

The shower… It had only happened during the accident.

Noticing the itching spreading across my limbs, I brushed my fingers through the drips still clinging to my face, tasting them before scanning the area.

In the daylight, the plant I had picked up revealed itself clearly. Tiny hairs covered its leaves and stem, the likely cause of the stinging.

“I should rinse the areas with water when I find a stream. I’ll have to write about the plant in the notebook tonight,” I mumbled to myself.

With mountain peaks still visible through the trees, I decided to venture further into the forest in hopes of finding food and water.

I checked my surroundings one last time, spotting only strange, dark-brown bulges at the bases of nearby trees. With no clue what they were, I chose to ignore them.

Avoiding the strange plant I decided to name “poison hairs” and picking my backpack back up, I pressed on into the forest, going down a gentle slope to the side of the tree I slept next to.

Beyond the slender trees with serrated leaves, taller, sturdier ones rose, their dark, cracked bark shaded by the thick foliage above.

The forest floor was dotted with green shrubs and dense, spike-filled bushes. The grass was shorter than the prairie’s, with patches of brown earth showing through.

Different plant scents mixed with the odour of wet soil, creating a surprisingly pleasant ambience.

There were no bird chirps, but similar wheezes and buzzes filled the otherwise silent woods.

This dreamlike scenery of greenery mockingly contrasted with my painful reality.

I heavily felt the weight of my own survival.

I couldn’t find any of the bugs I was hearing. So, with no viable source of food at the moment, I picked up a sharp rock from the ground and began cutting thick strips of bark from the nearby trees. I slid my fingers underneath and slowly pried the tree open, peeling off its skin.

Knowing some inner bark could be toxic, I stored it to eat only as a last resort.

In the meantime, I also picked up some dry sticks, helpful for starting a fire later on.

Each step reminded me of this escalating itchiness. Even the slightest touch of my sweatpants caused it to fervently erupt, but I couldn’t consider walking without them on.

Preferring the discomfort over the fear I felt, I decided to continue on like this.

During my desperate search for a source of running water, I found several berry-like fruits and fungi, usually near trees and greatly resembling wild mushrooms.

Knowing it was harder to identify edible mushrooms and with no foolproof method of removing toxins, I opted to stray away from them.

As for berries, I only avoided any strongly coloured ones. I left out any whitish or reddish berries and instead picked multiple darker blue and purple ones.

To be careful, I crushed one of each berry and rubbed it on an unaffected patch of skin on my arm. I wanted to check for any kind of reaction, like irritation, to a toxin.

As time passed, my legs weakened, and I was barely able to hold myself up. I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for nearly a day.

The sun had already passed noon in the sky, and I continued heading eastward into the forest.

Even in the shade, the rising temperature worsened my pulsating headache, and nausea crept in.

It wasn’t just dehydration. It was also the rising levels of mana I was enduring.

For a moment, I dropped to my knees.

Exhausted, I paused to rest and refocus my fading consciousness.

I listened attentively for the faintest hint of water among the forest’s sounds.

Amid the rustling plants and rattling insects, I noticed a soft gurgle.

Barely able to discern its direction, I followed my only lead down the softly sloping ground.

The previously feeble sounds grew clearer, leading me to a small stream, cascading from some rocks and flowing from well beyond my sight.

Relief surged through me.

My eyes watered as some of the accumulated tension evaporated.