Might as well try to find something, there's no way in hell I'm the only living thing here.
With each step, I drift deeper into this motionless void that can't even be considered "land" by my standards. The dullness could kill. The "forest" is vacant of anything that you could remotely call life.
If the trees aren't alive, does that just make them massive sticks bulging from the ground.
I reach out to feel the tree— nothing.
How can something feel like nothing?
I slammed my foot into the tree with everything I had, desperate for any kind of response—something, anything—to shatter this crushing silence that surrounds me. A creak, a groan, the snap of a brittle branch, hell even a single leaf fluttering to the ground would've been enough.
But nothing. The harder I kicked, the more frustration surged through me, like a storm gathering force.
Still, the tree stood silent and unyielding. Not a whisper of sound, not the faintest tremble of a branch. Not even one damn leaf had the decency to fall.
What the fuck...
After the brutal defeat the tree had handed me—its silence louder than any possible scream—I staggered backwards, enraged. In the thick of my frustration, a strange and unsettling realization crept in, slow and unwelcome.
Food... What about food. There's no life, there's no berries, or anything I can forage. What am I going to do?
Hunger drives us more than we care to admit. It fuels almost every aspect of our lives. Our movements, our thoughts, even our hopes. But without food—without the basic promise of survival—what was left for me to chase?
I'm not hungry yet, but surely, I will be soon.
The looming threat of starvation was the only thing propelling me forward. It wasn't hope to find answers, it wasn't courage, or some stubborn will to survive—it was fear. Raw gnawing fear that wrapped around my entire body dragging me onward.
I have to find something.
A few narrow streams snaked through the landscape, just close enough to make out. Their surfaces caught and reflected the dull gray cast of the sky, turning them into veins of silver slithering through the earth—cold, still, and indifferent. Following the nearest stream was my only option.
When I finally reached the stream, I caught sight of what appeared to be my own reflection in the water—but it didn't bring me comfort, it just brought more confusion. The face staring back at me had to have been mine. My face looked hollow and unfamiliar, like a memory half-forgotten.
This is what I look like?
I reached down and picked up a small, smooth rock from the riverbed. Still no sensation. I decided to toss the rock into the river out of pure boredom, fully expecting nothing to happen.
I wind up and throw it as hard as I could into my own reflection.
No splash.
No ripples.
No sound.
Just. Gone.
The rock simply vanished beneath the surface.
Welp
I glanced up and down the river, my movements slow with the thought of defeat racing through my mind. The stream stretched in both directions like a thin silver thread unraveling into the unknown.
With no better plan and nowhere else to go, I chose a direction and began to follow the path of the water. Maybe, just maybe, there was something ahead—food, shelter, some scrap of civilization. Or at least something to break this suffocating silence.
I just need something.