Escape

He ran into the forest. He was out of breath. He didn’t know how long he had been running, but at least now he could hide. He kept running for a while without looking back, until he felt safe.
When he stopped and looked around, he flinched. He had no idea where he was. The trees were massive, blocking out the sky. Neither the direction he came from nor any possible way out was visible. He thought he should catch his breath and think clearly. He drank the last bit of water from the bottle in his hand. He had run so fast that he had even forgotten to take his bag. In the middle of an unfamiliar forest, he was left with nothing but what he was wearing. He remembered how he and his friends used to joke, saying “if the world ended, we wouldn’t survive.” It felt as if the end of the world had come just for him.
It had been afternoon when he entered the forest. So he still had some time. “I need to get out of here before it gets dark,” he thought. Then another thought followed: why am I afraid of the dark in a forest? The real danger isn’t when animals are asleep, but when they’re awake. Considering his situation, that thought was anything but comforting. One thing was certain—he had to move.
But how? The sky was barely visible, and there was no sign of the forest’s edge. He had no idea if the forest was long or wide, big or small. What if he went back the way he came? He couldn’t even remember why he had been running. Maybe if I move, I’ll remember, he thought. Instinctively, he headed toward the direction where the light seemed stronger.
He was calmer than when he had first entered. As he walked, he noticed more details. The different shapes and scents of flowers, the struggle for existence of mushrooms on the forest floor, insects busy with their work, and the varied textures of trees. Chirping birds, and the unsettling sounds of reptiles. Everyone seemed occupied, he thought. Some trees had branches so high they were unreachable, others so low they forced him to bend or crawl. While crawling under one, he felt a weight on his arm. At first, he thought it was cold—but it wasn’t. He tried to pull his hand away quickly, but couldn’t. A snake was moving along his arm.
As cold sweat covered him, he found himself facing the one creature he feared most. He tried to stay calm. It was an unsatisfying, unbearable feeling. Not just the presence of the snake, but the sensation of its skin sliding over his own was deeply disturbing. He knew any sudden movement would provoke it. Being stuck like this with a snake—whose venom he knew nothing about—was incredibly difficult. The snake moved slowly, its muscles contracting as it advanced. It felt as though it wasn’t just moving, but dragging time along with it. He stayed still. Maybe this was the day everything would end. Suddenly, he started laughing. The irony of life. Because he had run, he had ended up here—and if he ran now, he would be bitten. Fortunately, the snake slowly continued on its way.
His calm was gone. He could hear his heartbeat, even see it through his t-shirt. Darkness was beginning to fall. He decided to run. He ran, ran, ran—but there was no result. He was lost in the middle of the unknown. He couldn’t even describe what he felt anymore. Hopelessness? Anger? Despair? He was both laughing and crying. Both stopping and running—but nothing changed. He noticed he had passed the same places a few times. The trees seemed to close in on him, his heartbeat raced, his breathing grew rapid. His legs felt heavier and heavier. It was as if he wasn’t moving at all. He decided to sleep on a suitable tree branch. As if everything would be over when he woke up. His feet weren’t taking him anywhere—maybe his dreams would.
He reached the base of the tree. It was even more massive than it had looked from afar. Its branches intertwined above a certain height, as if forming another world. As if it had been waiting for him to lie there for days. He began to climb. Carefully, controlling every movement, gripping the bark… He found a place that suited him. Leaning his back against the trunk, he looked around. Despite his eyes adjusting to the darkness, everything he saw was pitch black. After a while, he closed his eyes and lay there. Slowly, he drifted into sleep. Though he woke up several times out of fear of falling, exhaustion eventually won, and his eyes stayed closed.
Then he found himself running again. This time, there was no ground—only trees without roots. It felt like he was running in the air. A movement among the bushes startled him. It was a bear. They stared at each other. Motionless. He also remembered a bird in the scene—silent birds that didn’t sing. They were watching him. Suddenly, the bear started running—and so did he. The distance between them never changed. They ran for a long time. Eventually, he lost the bear. As he fled, he realized he had dropped his necklace—the one he loved dearly. It carried great meaning for him, representing the most tragic moment of his past, reminding him of who he was. It was gone.
As he thought about it, his heartbeat quickened again, and his breath became tight. His dream ended with a blow to his head. He jolted, almost as if waking up at home—but he wasn’t. His sudden movement nearly made him fall from the branch. He didn’t know how long he had slept, but it was still pitch dark. Nothing had changed. The air was colder, the forest quieter. He slowly climbed down and decided to walk again. If he couldn’t find a way out during daylight, walking in the darkness wasn’t a better idea—but he had none. He needed to warm up, and for that, he had to move.
At that moment, he realized his necklace was gone. The one he had lost in his dream was truly gone. A weight settled on his chest. He fell into silence for a while—as if there had ever been anyone to talk to in the forest besides trees, flowers, and insects. A piece of his past had disappeared. After thinking for a long time, he began to search for it. He didn’t know how many hours he searched, but he was no longer able to move. As the sky began to lighten, with one last hope, he headed toward the direction of the rising light. He had given up searching for the necklace. He decided to leave behind the memories it carried—and to live with the memory of losing it in that forest.
As time passed, hunger and thirst hit him harder. So did despair. He wasn’t afraid of dying. Death had always been a possibility, something that could happen at any moment. Not an escape—but a responsibility, just like staying alive, like the burden of not being free. What truly disturbed him were the unanswered questions. Uncertainty. The unknown. Why had he been running? Why couldn’t he remember anything before reaching the forest? Where exactly was he? Where was the forest? Was there really a way out—and if so, why couldn’t he find even the slightest clue?
As these questions circled in his mind, he fell deeper into hopelessness and panic.
He grew weaker. As a final attempt, he kept following the light. Even turtles and snails were covering more distance than him now. Still, he believed one last effort would carry him out of the forest. He kept walking. The daylight revealed new details. He noticed that the trees had faces. He saw himself in them. It was as if each one had something to say. From different times, different places, different memories—he saw himself. Some were memories he had lived, others he was sure he had never experienced. There was no consistency among the trees. Some seemed to whisper words he vaguely remembered—echoes of voices that had always been inside him, advice he had never listened to. Some allowed him to see himself from the outside. A few were like mirrors—just reflections.
He kept walking. Sometimes the trees looked normal, then suddenly turned into memories again. None of them moved, yet despite his walking, they didn’t change position either. Still, he walked toward the light. Some leaves fell, others shimmered in the wind. He continued. Each leaf felt like a memory—a familiar face, a piece of advice from the past. Everything he had seen, heard, learned, said, or been told since birth seemed to be in those leaves. He thought it was all just imagination. When he focused his mind and saw the trees as normal again, he kept walking. He tried harder to reach the exit—but the more he struggled, the harder it became to move, as if he was sinking deeper into the forest.
Darkness fell again. He had no strength left. He collapsed where he was. He had no breath left to scream, no strength left to run. He lay down and closed his eyes—this time, as if never to open them again.
Children had come to the field to play football. One of them was planting sticks to make a goal. He counted his steps from the first stick and tried to push the next one into the ground—but it wouldn’t go in. He heard a hard sound from below. He tried again—same sound. He stopped. Bending down, he started digging, thinking there might be a stone. A chain emerged. A necklace was hanging from it.
He picked it up and tried to wipe the dirt off with his thumb. It looked valuable. He lifted his head and looked around. Seeing no one watching, he slipped the necklace into his pocket. He planted the stick and shouted, “Ready!” Then he continued playing.