In the heart of a newly-formed forest, vast and majestic trees stretch toward the sky, their towering forms casting deep shadows on the ground below. The scene is eerily quiet, almost serene, save for the unsettling presence of a lone, fallen skyscraper. It lies awkwardly on its side, its shattered glass windows reflecting fragments of sunlight, surrounded by the ancient forest as if it had been plucked from the earth and set down in an entirely different world. The building stands as a strange monument, out of place amidst the greenery, its cold, gray steel a stark contrast to the vibrant life surrounding it.
Scattered among the debris are battered cars, twisted and crushed as if some giant hand had wrung them dry. Their once sleek frames now resemble grotesque sculptures of metal. Here and there, in the undergrowth, lie scattered human limbs—gruesome remnants of the catastrophic convergence that reshaped the world. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood, mingling with the earthy smell of the forest, creating a nauseating mix that hangs heavy in the silence.
A few meters away from the fallen skyscraper, nestled among the debris, sits a battered metal box. It's dented and scarred, its once shiny surface now tarnished by the violent upheaval. For a moment, it appears lifeless, just another piece of refuse amidst the chaos. But then, a soft clank echoes from within, followed by a low, ominous creak. The box shudders, a faint but unmistakable sign of movement.
The metal walls groan as they bend inward, struggling against whatever force is trapped inside. The clanking grows louder, more insistent, each sound reverberating through the desolate landscape. Then, with a sudden, violent lurch, the box jerks forward, scraping against the ground. It shifts again, as if something within is desperately trying to break free,the lid rattling with each effort.
For the next thirty minutes, the battered metal box continues to shudder and clank, its movements growing more erratic with each passing moment. The sound of scraping metal and heavy thuds punctuates the stillness of the forest, a harsh contrast to the otherwise serene surroundings. The box rattles violently, as if something—or someone—inside is fighting desperately to escape.
Finally, with a final, thunderous clang, the lid is violently flung off. It lands with a loud crash in the debris, bouncing off twisted metal and shattered glass. Out of the box emerges a figure—a young man, appearing to be in his late teens. His face, though handsome, is streaked with blood and grime, evidence of the chaos he has endured. His breaths come in ragged gasps, the oxygen mask dangling loosely from his hand as he peels it away.
He stumbles out of the box, his legs shaky and unsteady. With a labored effort, he collapses onto the ground, his body collapsing in exhaustion. He sprawls there, the cold, damp earth pressing against him as he takes in deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through him. The weight of the ordeal seems to press down on him, his chest heaving as he exhales a massive, relieved breath, finally free from the confines of the metal prison.
The forest, now a silent witness to his emergence, remains undisturbed as he lies there, the eerie calm a stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded.
The boy remains on the ground for a few minutes, gathering his strength and regaining his bearings. Slowly, he pushes himself upright, his body stiff and sore from the confinement. With deliberate effort, he retrieves a massive backpack from the metal box. The backpack, worn but sturdy, contains essential supplies. He extracts a metal water bottle from the bag, twisting off the cap and taking a long, desperate drink. The cool water refreshes him, offering a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming exhaustion.
With renewed determination, he moves toward the fallen skyscraper, carefully navigating the treacherous landscape of rubble and debris. Each step is measured, his eyes scanning the wreckage for safe footing amidst the twisted steel and shattered concrete. The once-majestic building now lies in a chaotic heap, a symbol of the world's upheaval.
As he approaches the skyscraper, the boy's gaze is drawn to the forest surrounding it—an incongruous, hauntingly beautiful setting that contrasts sharply with the destruction. The trees, tall and ancient, seem almost to loom over the wreckage, adding an eerie, almost surreal quality to the scene.
*
I carefully tread through the wreckage, each step calculated to avoid jagged debris and unstable ground. My gaze sweeps constantly around me, struggling to reconcile the incongruity of a fallen skyscraper amidst a dense, ancient forest. The towering trees seem almost out of place, their lush green foliage casting deep shadows over the desolation. I push the unsettling thought of this eerie juxtaposition to the back of my mind.
As I approach the base of the building, my focus narrows on finding the storage room. I know this area well enough to remember where supplies might be hidden. With every step, I pass scattered bodies—some caught in twisted positions, others partially buried beneath debris. My heart flinches at the sight; a dark thought flickers through my mind, wondering if this could have been my fate.
I quickly push the thought away, forcing myself to stay focused. Survival is my priority now. I move with purpose, my backpack heavy on my shoulders, my breath steady despite the ominous atmosphere. I reach the base of the building and start searching for an entry point, determined to forage for anything useful. As I pry open a battered door, the dim light inside reveals a semblance of hope—a chance to find water, food, or perhaps something that could aid me in this daunting new world.
I eventually locate the storage room, buried under a layer of rubble and debris. It's a mess, but among the chaos, I find blankets, bottles of water, towels—everything I might need for the immediate future. I work diligently to clear a space, doing my best to ignore the grim reality of moving aside remnants of human remains.
Once the area is somewhat clear, I shed my clothes and use a towel and some bottled water to clean myself. The feeling of being clean again is a welcome relief; it's almost rejuvenating. I make a makeshift bed underneath a set of broken shelves, setting up my small haven amid the wreckage.
I glance at my phone—it's still operational, though there's no internet or cell service. The time reads 5 PM. With the uncertainty of what lurks outside in this forest, I decide to rest. I lay down, the remnants of the day's chaos weighing on my mind, and close my eyes. I can only hope that whatever dangers the forest holds will leave me undisturbed for a while.