Chapter 7
Ani
It’s freezing.
From the tip of my toes to my fingertips, the gooseflesh travels like a speedy traveller met with an extended journey. Denied of my usual comforts, I reach out in an effort to mitigate the cold, but instead of touching my usual soft blanket, my hands touch something more unyielding.
Carpet? What?
My eyes snap open and blink a few times, trying to rearrange the scene before me into something that doesn’t resemble an alien planet. One by one, my senses return, and I can fully grasp the situation I’ve found myself in.
A whip of wind, the scent of it all wrong, coupled with the screeching of bird-like creatures like nothing I have seen before is all too real. Just like before, this is no movie set.
My heart immediately jumps to my throat. A familiar feeling of foreboding washes over me, and my vision begins to blur. The air starts to thin from my lungs, my fingernails digging into my skin. The cold creeps up my neck, numbing my ears. I know what this is.
I’m having a panic attack.
A sudden gust of wind violently pushes past, rocking my entire body. The few gasps of air left in my lungs are completely knocked out, leaving me gasping for air in a fetal position in my freezing container.
Take a deep breath. One. Two. Three. Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths.
Panic attacks aren’t new to me. They littered my childhood, triggered by almost anything.
There was the time I nearly got into an accident and spent the day crouched in a corner, mumbling to myself.
My body also reacted the same way when my mother would call my full name, which usually meant I had done something unforgivable, and my punishment was inevitable.
My therapist often talked about the body overreacting when it’s used to stress.
Overreacting. Over acting. Chewing the scenery, I mutter internally. Inanely. Desperately.
The more I look around, the harder it is to convince my mind that it’s overreacting.
Another gust of wind rushes past and my body trembles. My vision is littered with black dots, a sign that I’m sure to pass out in the next few minutes. I don’t know what is going on, but my instincts are screaming at me to get myself together. Right now, I have to make a decision.
Slowly, very slowly, the air returns to my lungs. Nothing around me is calm or safe, but panicking is not helpful. I have to breathe slowly and calmly. Whatever is happening, I have no other choice but to face it head on.
So, Ani, just… breathe.
I’m surrounded by something, or rather, I’m stuck in something.
It’s nothing I recognize or understand but I can just treat it like a…
new experience. My hands on my chest, I keep breathing until my vision is clear enough to properly grasp what I’m seeing.
It takes a few more minutes before my heart stops trying to beat out of my chest.
I test out the elasticity of my limbs the moment I realize I can move.
My arms and legs seem to be working fine.
Next, I look around and discover a shattered glass panel.
At least, it looks like glass. There are markings on the pod but it’s nothing of much interest or help.
Luckily for me, the “glass” broke outward, leaving at least my body safe from being turned into a pin cushion. Lovely.
A silver pod, broken glass, and high winds.
If I was on a movie set, it would be the most realistic one I’ve ever been in.
The Bitch would take how I’ve been treated up with someone and demand compensation immediately.
I let that scene play out in my head, desperate to hold on to the most soothing part of me.
The Bitch would be fucking vicious right now.
The more I think of her, the more she infuses my body and thoughts. The stronger I feel.
Eventually my breath evens out and my limbs are just shaking from cold, not also from fear.
Pushing myself up, I take a peek out of the broken edge and once again, the air in my lungs starts divorcing me. There is no way, in a thousand years, I would’ve guessed what I witness.
“I’m in a fucking tree?”
With how windy it is up here, I can barely hear myself yell. No wonder I kept getting tossed around like a salad. How the fuck did I even get up here? I have to take calming breaths again.
Deep breaths, Ani, deep breaths.
I don’t know how high up I am yet. It’s hard to see anything through the thick foliage and low light. Thoughts about what can be hiding in that darkness try to rise, but I push them aside. I need to cling on to hope and galloping horse thoughts focused on danger are not helpful right now.
Calming myself again takes a while, and it’s quite an ordeal to poke my head out the broken glass again but I do.
Taking deep, shaky breaths, I can finally grasp my situation, and it is not pretty.
Whatever I’m stuck in is wedged between two large trunks.
It’s a very long drop. There’s vines whipping around the trunks of the tree, trunks which are obscured by giant green, feather-like tufts of… leaves?
SCRAW!
My soul almost evicts from my body when the thunderous sound hits my ears. It’s not too far from me and from the corner of my eyes, I see what I can only describe as giant crows.
Except they are all wrong. Wrong colors. Wrong shapes. It’s disorienting.
Flocking in and around the tree, the “crows” seem to have made a habitation up here, their odd-looking feathers sticking every which way as the wind buffets them.
Stifling the scream that bubbles up to my throat, I gingerly pull my head back inside.
It’ll only be a moment before they notice me and use my pod as a perch or, worse, eat me as a snack.
There is no upside to this situation. I’m cold and I’m stuck a long way above the ground.
Brief memories flood into my head as I try to think back on how this happened.
It’s barely a flashback but I remember gray blobs of flesh, moving about like they were living beings and not figments of my imagination.
I raise my hand to my cheek when I remember the odd-looking woman who slapped me.
Even if I want to declare them as fallacies, what is before me is an actual situation. I cannot rule out the possibility that I was abducted by aliens.
It’s my fault, honestly. I asked the universe for freedom and in return, I’m thrown into some… place. Ridiculous. Hanging on to life barely by a thread. God forbid I try to control at least one thing in my life.
“Pizdets,” I mutter, no situation before this nearly as fucked up, making the curse feel the most real it ever has.
All this while, I’m still taking deep, intentional breaths.
I can’t do more than that. Jumping off would be suicide and it’s more likely that I’d be swooped out of the sky than make it across to one of the trees I’m suspended in.
Shifting the remaining glass to allow me to pass through would not only create noise.
No way do I want to draw the attention of other things living in these trees.
The sight of a lizard-like creature skittering among the tufts of leaves makes me shiver. Give me a furry creature any day, but reptiles and birds are not my thing. And any one of them could be venomous.
Great. So, it’s back to square one.
Sighing, I lean back against the cold container.
The winds are still rocking it vigorously and there’s a chance I’ll be dropped if a storm passes through.
That’s even if I survive that long. The absurdity of my situation would’ve made me laugh if my teeth weren’t chattering from the cold.
Save for the red material I’m leaning on, I’m as bare as the day I was born.
The cold ripples through my body like an unending wave and I’ve never wished more for the comforts of my bed that I’ve dismissed in the past. You really don’t notice how much you need things until they’re gone, especially simple things.
With chattering teeth, the only thing I can do is think warm thoughts. In my imagination, I can vaguely remember what it feels like to be warm. Downing a steaming cup of coffee on a wintry day, a hoodie that doubles as a blanket and the warmer I always used during rehearsals.
Drifting even further back, warmth comes to me in the form of a warm hug and a huge, toothy grin. Big arms that cover my scrawny body and a kiss on my forehead that proclaims endless love for me. A pang of pain spreads through my chest, as any reminder of my father.
Or who he was before my career ruined us.
Long lost.
Pain is warm, though. The feeling of pain brings a tiny bit of warmth to my toes and the tear running down the side of my face brings warmth back to my cheeks.
Unfortunately, it only lasts for a moment before making it all worse.
Even the power of imagination, which I have plenty of, cannot save me from freezing to death.
I just wish I had something on. A huge coat wrapped around me with several layers underneath to protect me from the cold. Something protective yet durable. Something…
I go rigid, panic surging again as something shifts along my body.
There’s something creeping along my skin. Like a thousand ants marching across my body, it steadily spreads from my waist, extending to my extremities. As it spreads, the feeling of cold improves but another feeling of dread fills me. Am I being eaten alive? What is this?
Once it has spread to the rest of me, covering even my neck, the ticklish feeling of being crawled on stops.
Looking down, I find that I’m now covered in an odd black material.
It has a certain lustre, like leather but it still feels liquid to the touch.
Flexing my fingers and toes, I realize I can move them naturally, despite the fact that they’re covered.
“Nice,” I mutter, mind whirling.
It’s also fucking weird. Clothes don’t materialize from thin air.