SPIN
SPIN
SPIN
'What is that sound?'
This was the first thought that invaded Soren's mind as he regained consciousness.
He couldn't remember what had happened, but the softness of his bed was gone, replaced by a strange, rhythmic sound echoing in his head.
The creak of wood reverberated occasionally, adding to the unsettling symphony that had robbed him of sleep.
A peculiar smell filled his nose—a mix of mold and something else he couldn't quite place, making him wrinkle his brow unconsciously.
'Am I… moving?' he wondered, still drowsy, as he sensed the steady rocking.
He was certain he had gone to bed the previous night, which only added to his confusion. Summoning his strength, Soren forced his heavy eyelids open, but what he saw made him squint.
'This…'
Above him stretched a ceiling of old wood. The grooves in the timber were lit by a soft, flickering light coming from somewhere nearby.
It was dim, but he could still make out the brown color of the wood.
This wasn't the ceiling of his room.
His breathing quickened, and with a swift motion, Soren placed a hand on the floor and tried to push himself up, only to instantly regret it.
His vision blurred as his world spun, a wave of dizziness hitting him mercilessly. He clamped a hand over his mouth, stifling the urge to vomit, and let out a small groan that escaped from deep in his throat.
"Ugh…"
The floor was still swaying, which did nothing to help his dizziness.
He used his free hand to steady himself against the wall, trying to anchor his body with each unstable sway, and finally managed to breathe a sigh of relief.
He really hated riding in cars or anything less stable than solid ground!
Ready to curse whoever had put him in this situation, Soren glanced around.
The place he was in seemed to be a room, but it was different from any room he had known... It felt tighter and darker.
Besides, rooms didn't move or sway…
The rough wall brushed against the tip of his pale finger, causing some discomfort as his gaze scanned every corner of this unfamiliar space.
The walls, a dark brown hue, were stained and coated with a fine layer of dust. In one corner, a lantern was lit, attached to a metal bracket, flickering with an orange flame.
That seemed to be the source of the strange smell and the light.
The low ceiling, made of exposed beams, loomed over him, creating a claustrophobic feeling.
Every time the structure rocked, the wood creaked in protest.
On either side, there were wooden windows, secured with simple metal pieces fitting into brackets on the sides of the frame.
In one corner, some planks rose to form an improvised seat, covered with a tattered cloth that still bore traces of a vibrant red color, now faded.
This wooden room was actually... a wagon?
The whole structure seemed extremely precarious. Soren feared it might collapse with him inside.
'Who uses something like this nowadays?'
And why was he in it when he should be in his room?
With a still-confused expression, Soren looked toward the front of the wagon, but beyond the wooden wall, there was nothing else. It was like a box.
If he wanted to get out, he would have to use the side door or jump through the window.
'Is someone driving the wagon outside?' Soren wondered as he surveyed the empty wagon.
He was all alone inside.
The driver must be outside controlling this thing, right?
Should he just shout for them to stop the wagon?
But he still didn't know what was going on…
What if this was a kidnapping?
Although he found the idea absurd, he didn't completely dismiss the possibility of someone abducting people using an old wagon.
Soren removed his hand from the wall and decided to open the wagon's window.
He wanted to shout for the driver to stop and demand explanations.
Transport like this, driving among cars, should attract attention. If it really was a kidnapping, he could try to negotiate with the abductors until the police arrived.
With that in mind, he approached the window, his fingers brushing against the rough surface of the wood. With a careful tug, he unlocked the window with a pulling-up motion and pushed it open.
A creak echoed, blending with the continuous noise of the wagon moving.
As soon as the window parted, a cool, damp breeze rushed into the interior of the wagon, bringing with it the scent of wet earth.
His nose wrinkled for a moment.
Soren leaned out, but what he saw made his breath catch in his lungs.
The moon was high in the sky, a silver sphere illuminating the surrounding landscape.
Its light danced over the muddy road, revealing a winding path. The mud glistened under the light, creating a slippery surface that reflected the moon's glow, while the wagon's wheels carved through the path, sending small splatters of mud flying in their wake.
Flanking the road, trees loomed, their crooked, leafless trunks reaching toward the night sky.
The only source of light seemed to come from the lantern inside the wagon, casting a weak, flickering glow around.
Soren could see his shadow moving on the ground as the wagon rolled along. Each time he passed over a sunken patch of earth, it warped.
He felt a wave of unease in his chest as he witnessed this.
"What place is this?"
A chill ran down Soren's spine, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
There were no buildings, no streetlights, no cars.
The city didn't have roads like this, so did that mean he was in the countryside?
How had he gotten out of the city so quickly without realizing it?
Had he truly been kidnapped?
"Stop the wagon!" Soren craned his neck, trying to glimpse the front of the wagon, but the position of the side window made that impossible.
All he could see was the muddy road stretching out under the moonlight, with gnarled trees swaying in the wind.
Silence.
No response.
The chill intensified, and a sense of despair began to settle in.
The thought of jumping from the wagon crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it when he looked at the unfamiliar surroundings.
He had no idea where he was!
But what if this was his only chance to escape?
'Damn!'
He was an ordinary young man with no money. Who would be interested in kidnapping him?!
The smartest choice seemed to be not getting kidnapped in the first place, but he didn't want to risk getting lost in this place.
With a deep sigh, Soren decided to stay in the wagon, albeit reluctantly.
He was already inside, so he would wait to see what they wanted.
If this was a kidnapping, Soren would be forced to use his fists to teach them a lesson.
'This has to stop eventually… right?' He glanced up at the high moon in the sky, feeling the icy tip of his finger against his skin.
The air was cold, and the smell of damp earth and mud suggested it had rained recently.
Releasing a sigh, he closed the window, carefully locking it back in place. Soren returned to the center of the wagon, his eyes wandering over the shadows cast by the weak light of the lantern mounted on the wall.
As he approached, he noticed the slightly yellow liquid in the small glass and metal reservoir; it was still burning, the wick drawing every drop of the viscous fuel to feed the flickering flame.
The yellow-orange glow reflected off the glass, unsteadily illuminating the soot accumulated around the metal holder, where the constant heat had blackened and corroded the structure, leaving burn marks that spread like stains of rust.
The smell of burnt oil lingered in the air, thick and slightly acrid, making his chest ache with each breath.
Every time the flame flickered, a trail of smoke slowly rose, leaving a fine layer of ash on the wood just above.
He ran his fingers along the dark edges of the metal, feeling the heat and roughness of the residue that had accumulated there.
"It seems dangerous…" he murmured, his eyes fixed on the dancing flame, which seemed poised to go out with every jolt yet stubbornly remained alive.
If the fire spread just a bit more, the entire wagon might catch fire.
Swallowing hard, his gaze noticed a clock embedded in the wall, with ornate detailing.
However, the hands were still. He gently touched the face, feeling the cold metal against the tip of his fingers, but nothing happened.
It seemed the clock had stopped working a long time ago.
With little in the way of entertainment, he moved closer to the seat covered in faded red fabric, sitting down with a deep sigh.
The scene around him felt surreal.
Soren closed his eyes, trying to sort through his thoughts.
'What happened yesterday?'
He ran a hand through his hair and tried to recall the previous night, but nothing extraordinary came to mind.
It had been just another night. He finished his work, ate, went to bed… there was nothing that justified waking up in an old moving wagon.
The idea that this was a dream crossed his mind, and he quickly pinched his arm, feeling the sting of pain.
'No… this feels too real.'
He sat there, lost in thought, as the wagon continued to sway gently, enveloping him in a state of unease.
'Who could have brought me here? And for what reason?' No matter how hard he tried to think, there were no answers.
Everything felt like a set piece, but he couldn't figure out who had placed him there, or how.
That feeling of unease continued to grow within him, but somehow, the gentle rocking of the wagon and his fatigue began to overwhelm him.
His sleep, which had been interrupted, was returning with more force than ever.
'I can't sleep…'
He tried to resist, but it was stronger than him.
Soon, his eyes grew heavy, and Soren fell asleep right there.
...
When Soren opened his eyes the next morning, he jolted awake, his heart racing.
"How could I have slept like that?" A wave of panic washed over him as he realized how reckless he had been.
Sleeping in an unfamiliar wagon was a risk he never thought he would take. If something had happened while he slept…
Well, he couldn't think of anything that could have happened now that hadn't already occurred before, but still, he had been careless.
What if the kidnappers decided to do something to him while he was asleep?
Just the thought sent a chill down his spine.
'Wait...'
It was then that Soren noticed something strange.
'The noise has stopped?'
He could no longer hear those sounds or the creaking of the wood, and the swaying had completely ceased.
It was utterly silent.
A little too silent.
'The wagon has stopped!'
With a newfound urgency, Soren rushed to the door, pushing it open and descending the small wooden steps, which creaked under the weight of his bare feet.
As he stepped onto the cold ground, he felt the strange texture against his skin. Ignoring it, he turned his attention to the front of the wagon. His slow steps gradually quickened as he recalled with anger the driver who had ignored his plea to stop the night before.
Determined to teach him a lesson, Soren picked up a stone from the ground to defend himself and sprinted toward the front of the wagon, where the conductor should be.
He wanted to have a 'friendly' conversation with these people.
However, upon arriving at the location, he felt the blood run cold in his veins.
"What...?"
The front of the wagon was completely empty.
There was no sign of the driver. The front of the wagon was loose, with no indication of what had pulled it along this route the night before.
Soren stood there, his mind racing furiously.
He considered the possibility that his captor had fled in the middle of the night out of fear while he slept, but looking at the mud…
No footprints were left behind.
He scanned the area, trying to find any clue or sign of what might have happened, but all he saw was the vast, desolate landscape stretching in all directions.
Before him was the seemingly endless muddy road, the trees, and behind him was the stretch he had traversed without realizing it in his sleep.
Soren tightened the pajama fabric around himself, feeling the cold and dampness beginning to seep in.
"What is happening here?"
***
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