Another Perfect Circle

My eyes flew open as my head began to slowly stop its spinning and I regained my consciousness. I looked upwards through a break in the tree canopy and saw a dimly lit sky, the late evening I presumed by the cold chill pricking my skin, that one only felt at night. I slowly lifted myself onto my elbows and then onto the palms of my hands, the ground was wet and beginning to freeze beneath me, I could feel the frost crunch as I ever so slightly lifted myself to my feet. I began to take in my surroundings, the forest was dense and from what I could make out in the scarce light provided by the shine of the rising moon, it seemed to be made up of pine and oak trees. The ground was littered in wild flowers and ferns and the air smelled fresh and sweet, the way it smelled at the family lake house where I used to vacation in the summer, long ago. The area where I had been dumped was void of trees in a perfect ten-metre circle, with me standing in the middle of it. 

“Curious,” I spoke out loud to myself, or perhaps I was speaking to the trees in hopes that they would bend down and whisper to me all that I needed to know. 

My voice felt lost and out of place in the empty forest as I realised I was a long way from civilisation.  I couldn’t hear the sound of the city, nor even the sound of distant cars passing by on the highway. As I realised this my body started to feel the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself and rubbed my hands up and down trying to start a small fire against the goosebumps that had begun to rise as the shock had worn off. I remembered a little trick my father had taught me when I was a little girl, if I was still in the Northern hemisphere, which due to my surroundings I presumed I was, that moss tended to occupy the north-facing side of trees. I carefully moved towards the edge of the open circle I stood in, watching the ground with each step to make sure I did not step into a trap. 

“You’re being silly, if they wanted to kill you they would have,” I didn’t like the empty feeling my lone voice gave the forest on this otherwise quiet night but I found it was the only comfort of familiarity I had, even the blouse and pants that covered my body were not mine, and whoever put me here had taken my shoes as well. 

“But they also may have set a trap, as a kind of sport, like how Jinxy likes to play with her mice before she eats them.” The thought was almost comedic, to compare myself to a mouse, would a mouse have been able to collect themselves and keep themselves composed as I did? No, a mouse would most likely scurry frantically every which way with no thought into how to escape its captor. 

I took the final step out of the clearing and made my way towards the nearest tree. I placed my hand on the tree trunk and gradually began making my way around its right side, making sure to keep my hand placed tightly against its bark. I could feel splinters beginning to embed themselves in my palm as it scraped along with the wood while I moved it up and down and continued to circle the tree, finally as my hand began to brush over the soft cushion of moss. I made my way through the ferns to the next tree and found the same side I had touched on the previous one I breathed out, a breath I had not even realised I had been holding in. 

Now that I had a rough idea of my directional bearings I needed to find a place where I could stay warm, I could hear my fathers voice in my head, the number one killer when you’re lost in the woods is hypothermia. I turned with the wind as it brushed past my face, swearing my fathers’ voice had come from behind me, not in me. I shook my head, the man had been dead for seven years, it was highly unlikely that he was standing behind me in the middle of a forest that I was pretty sure was nowhere near California, the place I last remembered being. And while I had no idea if my father had been speaking of a known fact or his own fact, I had never known the man to be wrong. I followed the direction of the moss, as the ground seemed to slope slightly downward in its alignment with the north, and down usually meant water, or better yet, people. 

I made my way through the underbrush, careful as to not cut my foot on any protruding rocks or twigs that might make my journey more difficult than it already was. As the night grew on and the moon rose higher into the sky I caught glimpses of it through the trees. It was a full moon which was strange considering that the last time I had seen the moon it had been a waning crescent, “how long was I out?” The trees still gave no answer, but the wind shook their branches and pine needles danced across my neck which made me feel a little less alone. I allowed myself to smile for a brief moment before my foot caught the edge of a steep and rapid decline. I fell onto my ass landing hard and scraping my elbows in the process. The weight of my body coming down so quickly must have shifted the ground below me for as soon my elbows hit the ground it gave way and I began to slide down the hill. I kicked my legs out and dug my heels into the racing dirt, trying hard to catch onto any piece of solid ground that I could, I pushed the butt end of my palms in near my hips and felt pebbles mixing with the splinters that already littered the skin on my left hand. I slid down the hill for what felt like the better half of an hour, but I am sure it was no more than five or ten minutes before my feet jammed hard into a large stump, jarring my knees and sending a shock wave of pain to my hips. I laid my head back and allowed myself to stay there a moment while the pain subsided enough for me to get back on my feet. I got back onto my feet, using the log to steady myself and began making my way down the steep hill, sliding now and then as small bits of earth gave way beneath me. 

I was cold and I was beginning to feel it, my feet were starting to go numb as were my fingers, I moved my lips, trying to shape different words which seemed to take more concentration than usual, a sure sign I was beginning to freeze. It was also colder now that I was out in the open, without the protection of the trees, the wind stabbed at me, with each prick reaching all the way to my bones. 

There was however one bright side to not having the trees canopy overhead, and that was the brightness of the full moon, it seemed to illuminate the entire world, below me about four hundred metres or so was a stream nestled between two large hills, behind me all I could see was an ever-expanding forest, if it did end I did not know where. Across from me on the other hill appeared to be an open meadow of some sort surrounded by more of the forest which pressed against my back, in the meadow I could make out a few small shapes which I assumed must be deer, most likely a black tail, unless I was in Canada. “Please god,” I looked upwards, I had never seen so many stars before in my life, not even at the family lake house, “please don’t let me be in Canada.” 

I scanned the hillside, hoping for shelter from an overhanging cliff or even a fallen tree that I could maybe nestle myself against. Nothing on my right except more stumps unless I dared try and make it out of the slide of earth that I had caused, the edge looked nearly impossible to climb out of, and I would probably just start an even worse rock slide anyways. I continued making my way down, scanning my left, bingo. A small cave just big enough for me to fit inside of sat on the hillside overlooking the stream. Now if you ever happen to be lost and you find a cave make sure you check it for rattlers or large mammals that might try and eat you up. His voice again, and this time I could’ve sworn I felt a breath on the back of my neck, instinctively I lifted my hand to where I thought I had felt my fathers breath and turned my head to look at him, he, of course, was not there. I approached the cave with caution, thinking of my father as I did, I knew that rattlers were probably the least of my concerns, that this cave more likely homed a badger or a small bear, but as I peered around inside all I saw was a pile of sticks that had already been built into a perfect fire and a box of matches sitting beside it, calling me. 

“What the hell..?” I whipped around searching my entire surroundings for whoever it was that was screwing with me. I waited until I could no longer feel my feet, soon the numbness would take my hands as well, and while I knew it was most likely some form of trap, it was also the only way I would survive through the night. I inched slowly into the cave and picked up the box of matches, struck one against the box and threw it into the fire. The fire started easily and soon the feeling began to seep back into my frozen body parts, the warmth was very much welcome even if it had been given to me, most likely, by whoever had taken me to begin with, a sick game no doubt. I laid my head down on the stone floor and allowed myself to drift off into sleep. 

I awoke to the sun shining down into the valley, while the night had been quiet, the day was even quieter, not a single bird chirped, nor did I hear any animals making their way through the underbrush, the only sound was the running water of the small stream below my cave. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, then reached down to grab my box of matches which I figured I would be needing tonight as well. My hand hit stone, I rubbed my eyes again and looked around, swearing I had slept with the box right by my side all night, but the box was gone as were any remnants of the fire I had just had, there was not a single ash or charcoal anywhere in the cave. Yet I knew it had to have been there, if it weren’t there was no way I would have made it through the night. I shook it off, I knew someone was messing with me, I must have just fallen into an extremely deep sleep and they had taken away my fire to make me feel crazy, that was the only explanation. 

I left the cave and started back down the hill, making my way to the water, and ignoring the aching pain that was starting to throb through my left hand. If I wanted to survive there was no time to acknowledge the pain, I just needed to keep going. I smiled at that, it was something my brother had told me a long time ago during one of our games of man tracker when I stubbed my toe and wanted to give up and just let my dad catch us, but he wouldn’t let me, he pulled me up and pushed me forward saying those words to me. I wondered if I would ever see him again. 

I eventually reached the stream, my pace had slowed considerably since my misadventures of the previous night but I was still making a decent enough time, the sun was still low which meant it was not even noon and I had plenty more hours of daylight left. I fell to my knees on the streams sandy shore and plunged my face downwards drinking as much as I could without making myself sick, when I had filled my stomach I rotated myself to sit with my feet in the water, letting the flow of the stream gently clean out the cuts and scrapes that adorned my feet and lower calves. Then I slowly put in my hands, they had been badly scraped in my tumble down the hill and my left hand was full of debris, once the dirt had been washed away I began to pick out each of the splinters I was able to get a hold of, the pain that shot through my hand with each removed shard of wood was awful but the relief that followed was sweet and soothing. It did not take long before my hand was mostly free of the wood and I stood back up to make my way steadily across the slippery algae-covered stones of the small stream towards the meadow atop the other hill. 

This second hill was much easier to climb than its brother had been to descend. While the terrain was still rocky and rough the grass felt comforting under my feet, a much more welcome feeling than dirt and pebbles. As I walked I picked dandelions, I used to make salads from their tops and their leaves as a child so I knew that they were safe to eat, I recalled reading somewhere that they were quite nutritious. They didn’t have the most appetising taste but it felt wonderful to finally have something in my stomach, since I had been gone for more than one day I had no idea how long it had been since I’d eaten, but I knew it had been some time. 

I reached the meadow in no time and could not help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness at the beautiful site. The rough ground gave way into a soft blanket of thick green grass, so thick it felt as though I were walking on rose petals. Littered throughout the grass was a breathtaking array of wildflowers, some I recognised such as dragon's mouth or the purple coneflower, but there were many others I had never seen before. I walked to the middle of the meadow and noticed something peculiar, it seemed to be in the shape of another perfect circle, much larger than the one I had awoken in the previous night, but a perfect circle nonetheless. I sat down, crossing my legs, propping my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands, giving it a slight shake, these couldn’t all just be by coincidence, the circles, the lack of bird song in this otherwise untouched place, the appearing and disappearing fire, someone was playing at something, but what. 

“Maybe you’re just having a bad dream,” I said to myself as I lifted my head from my hands and instead rested my chin on the palm of my right. “Maybe it's a very beautiful bad dream.”

You’ll always know if you’re dreaming, if you can feel pain then you’re probably just living through life. My fathers’ voice, this time I knew it was not in my head but I didn’t have the stomach to turn around and find an empty space once again. So instead I sat there and picked at the flowers surrounding me, pulling them out of the ground, careful to keep their stems in tacked. I worked away until the sun was directly above me, by the time I had started to sweat from its heat I held in my hands a beautiful flower crown of purples and pinks and yellows. I looked around me at the empty patch of grass from where I had gathered my flowers from what now surrounded me and began to laugh, “another goddamn circle.” 

I placed the crown on the ground in front of me and stood up, I had wasted enough time and I wanted to go home. I walked steadily through the grass, I didn’t feel the need to watch the ground below me for sharp objects that might make my journey more difficult, the grass was so tightly woven it would protect me from anything dangerous that might lay in wait underneath. I reached the edge of the trees before the sun had barely even moved from its position directly above me, I turned and looked at the valley one last time, then turned back towards the forest where a set of eyes from down in the brush stared back at me. I stopped dead in my tracks, a coyote, I knew that they hunted alone so I may be okay, but they often tend to live with others, and depending on how far this one was from its home I might not be very safe at all. We stood there for a moment, just looking at one another before it lifted its head and pricked up its ears, “curious,” I stated as it cocked its head to the right and blinked at me slowly. It felt as though I should return the favour, after all, I knew that when my cat slowly blinks at me I often did it back as a sign of affection, perhaps it was the same for coyotes. I bent my knees and became level with the creature, then I slowly blinked my eyes. 

My eyes flew open as my head began to slowly stop its spinning and I regained my consciousness. I looked upwards through a break in the trees canopy and saw a dimly lit sky, the late evening I presumed by the cold chill pricking my skin that one only felt at night.

• creative
• creative writing
• elisabeth hewer
• short story
• writing