The red van's engines died down somewhere in the woods, half a mile or so from the outskirts of a little town that had barely acknowledged it passing through. A trail of flattened greenery laid in its wake. Thankfully it had avoided felling any trees- oh, wait, scratch that, it had felled one or two trees, but they were hardly big enough to count towards any sort of property destruction charge, the driver told himself. The day was still new. It couldn't have been any later than 7 in the morning when the doors opened up and Rob took a deep, nervous breath and took a look at 'home' for the first time.
"Wow," he said with equal parts awe and apprehension. "It's, I mean, it's flat!"
Indeed, the world in front of him had its objects sharply delineated by outlines, and the colors and textures were somehow more solid. It was not a new sight for Rob- even back home, many of the objects and most of the people had similar features- but, looking down at his own rendered body, he found himself uncomfortably out of his element nonetheless. Would the beings of this world be able to even comprehend that he looked different? Did everyone in the multiverse have the medium awareness he had grown with in a mixed-media society like Elmore? Were there even other beings here? There had to be. This was parallel Oregon. It had also been named by people, surely. There were no stories to be told in a universe of only trees. The shopkeeper also wouldn't knowingly leave him to rot in a world of danger, would he?
"A few warnings," said the shopkeeper from behind him, and he gulped. "One- this is a world of danger."
"How did you do that?" Rob glared at him.
"Do what?"
"Forget it. Danger, you said? What kind of danger are we talking, here, exactly?"
"Monsters, mostly, around here. Good luck."
The van door started to close, but Rob stuck his hand in out of desperation, eliciting a loud sigh from the shopkeeper.
"Hey, man! You can't just leave after giving me a vague warning like that!"
"On the contrary, vague warnings are part of my job description."
It was difficult to argue with that, but Rob still didn't pull his hand out. He realized that the door could perhaps close on his wrist and amputate his hand, but thought about maybe getting a cool hook afterwards- no! There's no way the guy would just do something like that! Rob had never done anything to him. Except steal and destroy his merchandise. And kill him that one time... but he digressed.
"Just tell me what kind of hellscape you've dropped me into."
"Hellscape? Your idea of a hellscape must be very strange if this is worse than where the gas station was."
"At least that place was up-front with its scariness. You're telling me I have to rough it in the woods with monsters stalking me? I'm-I'm just a kid!"
Rob considered himself a kid when it gave him sympathy points and an adult when it gave him responsibility points. Since nobody aged back home, it was basically the same thing- at least, that's what he told himself. The shopkeeper rolled his eyes.
"Had you been a food person, maybe I would have left you in a world of food people. Had you been a human, maybe I would have left you in a more mundane world. But you- you are a cyclops. A monster."
"Hey! Who are you calling a monster?"
"Well, you-"
"I know it's me! I'm saying I'm no monster. A freak, maybe, but, but, the thing is! Freaks are pitied. Monsters are feared."
"Don't you want to be feared, young man?"
Rob was about to snap back with a retort, but realized to a growing sense of discomfort that he didn't know the answer. Feared by his nemeses, maybe, or by the populace of the town that had abandoned him. Feared, though, by everyone, not because of his villainous ambition but because of who he was? Did he want that? Of course he didn't... or did he? How could he know whether he wanted it or not if he had never experienced anything close? Maybe it would be nice to have people run screaming from him. Maybe this was another potential means to an end. Maybe his dreams of being a supervillain could be salvaged, brought back even stronger, with this sudden change to his role in the world. He realized after a few moments that he was grinning.
"Good point," he said, something stirring inside of him. As a new sense of confidence wormed its way into his soul, he placed his hands on his hips and chuckled sinisterly to himself.
"Alright, well, I oughta head out and fetch some food. This is farewell. Don't worry, us Elmore folk are hard to kill."
"Hard to kill? Hold on, does that mean there are things here that are gonna try to- wait!"
The van was making a speedy U-turn before he knew it, and as it vanished from view, Rob was reduced to what he felt like on the inside- a 13-year-old boy lost in an unfamiliar, dangerous forest in an unfamiliar, dangerous world.
"It's okay," thought Rob, "I've faced worse."
"No I haven't," thought Rob's subconscious.
DAY 1: BEARINGS
If the boy had walked west he would have come across a building, and then another, and then another, and he would have felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized he was close to civilization from the start. He didn't walk west. He walked east, and therefore he had no such realization and felt no such relief. The forest grew thicker and the sunlight that reached him grew thinner.
He decided his best option for a first step was to check his vitals, something he only vaguely knew how to do. He checked his pulse- absent, as usual. That was good. He did a few breathing exercises. He confirmed that he had not been even more disfigured when the van left Elmore (No More?) for wherever the gas station was. His backpack contained exactly what he had left in it: a crowbar, a bear trap, and fifteen Elmore dollars, which he doubted were legal tender in this world. Did monsters even use money, or did they just duke it out for what they wanted? No way could be take a monster in a fight.
"You are a cyclops. A monster," came the voice of the shopkeeper in his head. Maybe if he was a 15-foot cannibal with big 'ol fangs he'd have a shot at winning a few battles for food, but right now all being a cyclops gave him was awful depth perception. Besides, he was never really sure if cyclops was the name of his species or just a descriptor for anybody with one eye and no other real defining characteristics. If he really was the same sort as those in Greek mythology, he didn't look it before, and he certainly didn't look it now.
There was a pillow-shaped rock in this clearing. It didn't feel like an actual pillow, but hey, at least it looked the part. The birdsong and a faint, cool breeze made disregarding the warning about monsters easy. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after a few moments of promising himself just a few moments more of rest, he did it anyways and, rather unfortunately for anyone looking in, dreamt of nothing at all.
DAY 2: NIGHT?
Was it the morning of the next day, or was it the night of the first day? Did it matter? The forest was dark and Rob could only see himself by the faint glow of the static on his arms and legs. Sleeping on a rock would have given him a headache had he not been used to sleeping on a concrete block in the junkyard. 'Another victory for me,' he thought, not dwelling too long on the nature of victory.
In Elmore, Rob had a network of people to steal money from and the familiarity he needed to avoid getting caught. Here he had none of that, and if there were stores here he had not yet seen any. It was so dark, he considered, that he could be walking through a food truck festival and he wouldn't even know it! He'd need to find a food source. Foraging sounded exciting. Getting food poisoning sounded not so exciting. Trapping prey sounded exciting. Setting up a trap also sounded exciting, except that he knew nothing about the sorts of animals that lived around here, their habits, or their weaknesses. And he had no supplies. And there was no guarantee that eating the animals here wouldn't also give him food poisoning! Darn it.
He set to work on a pit trap to give his hands something to do, using his crowbar as the world's least effective shovel. Pit traps were simple. Effective. Rather unoriginal. It wasn't as if a deer or whatever could really appreciate a creative capture method (or any subsequent quips), though, so it didn't matter. His heart yearned for more intelligent prey that he could monologue to. Not too intelligent, though. There was hardly anything to monologue about with a pit trap regardless.
He realized he needed to start thinking about his situation as a matter of survival rather than a simple pursuit.
He put his mind to it and forgot about having a nemesis, about making elaborate plans for the sake of elaborate plans, about the warning he had been given concerning monsters in the woods. That last one was unintentional. It wouldn't stay forgotten, though, as the ground shook with a tremor that made his bones buzz- and then another, even stronger, and then yet another! He dove behind a rock and clutched his head until the tremors trailed off and became tiny little vibrations in the dirt. When he squinted into the dust cloud that had formed in the wake of the quake, he saw a trail of giant footprints that he was perfectly happy not to follow.
The rest of his day was spent reconstituting the pit trap, which had been dwarfed by the giant footprint that now surrounded it.
DAY 3: FORAGING
Us Elmore folk are hard to kill. What had that meant? The close encounter of the previous day had made Rob feel very easy to kill, if he was being honest.
It could have been a meaningless platitude. Yes, that sounded plausible. He would choose to leave it at that and go back to worrying about more important things.
He made a point of going the opposite direction to the giant footprints and came across a small bush with what looked like blackberries after only a few minutes. It could have been a monster disguised as a blackberry bush, he thought, but decided that if so it was an ineffective method of evading the notice of predators. The blackberries were bitter and their thorns painful on the inside of his mouth, but life was pain, wasn't it? No pain, no gain. Rob just wished he could feel the 'gain' part of this and not just the 'pain' part. The human body could go without food for 2 weeks, according to a fact he had read on a gum wrapper long ago, so (assuming his body was close enough to human to count) he could just put off the issue of food until real hunger set in. That would leave him with nothing to do but explore, run around, accidentally provoke a monster and get his head munched off- no. No, he had to occupy himself some other way.
On the bright side, eating wild berries with his hands had made him feel intrepid- adventurous. Like a real survivalist. It gave him a tiny boost to the ol' self-esteem. When he returned to the pillow(-shaped rock) that night, that tiny boost let him ignore the distant roaring he heard and fall asleep in a matter of minutes. Oh, yes, and the exhaustion helped too.
DAY 4: LATE
He slung open his classroom door with so much force that the books in his other hand dropped to the floor, prompting him to reach down and scoop them up haphazardly. He couldn't seem to get them in order! The big test was today and he had five minutes to study! Moreover, Prom was tonight, and he was only going to be allowed to run for Prom Emperor if he passed this test. College- was this college?- whatever it was, it was hard.
The words seemed to lurch and tumble on the page. They evaded his gaze at every turn, no matter how many times he blinked and rubbed his eye. The clock's hands stopped ticking and started sliding smoothly forward, which meant time was moving faster because of his anxiety. He finally managed to get through the first paragraph, a vaguely-written blur about which part of your throat a proper evil laugh should come from. This was easy! Just as he was about to move on, the bell- a giant bell, mounted on the ceiling- rang, and there was a yellow glow from something behind him, something that he never got to turn around and look at because of the sudden loud whistling noise that stirred him from his slumber and forced his eye open.
DAY 4: FOR REAL THIS TIME
There was a tiny, chihuahua-esque creature in front of him with a snout that resembled the spout of a teapot and a tail that curved into its body, resembling a handle.
"Oh," Rob said, reaching out with one hand, still half-asleep. "C'mere, little guy."
The thing shook violently and opened its mouth, letting out a sizzling hot jet of steam and the same shrill whistling noise that had woken him up previously. This time he was really awake, and it was a rude awakening, too!
"C'mere," he said forcefully, wondering whether the thing's resemblance to a kettle meant its meat had an aromatic taste. Before he could lunge forward and find out, it scuttled into the bushes, narrowly avoiding his leaf-covered pit trap, and the sound of intermittent whistling got further and further away. It was good to know this place's monsters came in sizes other than 'extra extra extra large'.
The rest of the day was spent building more traps. With the craft of crowbar digging down pat, he managed to set up two and a half before nightfall, and he put out the bear trap with some berries in it for good measure.
DAY 5: MUSHROOMS
The way he saw it, wild mushrooms had three types: one would do nothing to you, one would kill you, and one would make you hallucinate. Maybe some of them would do both of those last two. Survival experts could probably identify which ones did which on sight. Rob was not a survival expert.
He thought it reasonable that, by eating a tiny little piece of each mushroom variety he came across, he could determine which ones did what and also avoid death by poisoning. It was research, so it couldn't be crazy! Oh, who was he kidding? There was no guarantee he'd have a future in store for him here if he survived, so it didn't matter. Plus there was the warning about Elmore folk being hard to kill... he ripped off little chunks from some itty-bitty white ones, some yellowish frilly ones on a tree, some faintly-glowing pink ones on a log. He almost took a chunk off of a red and white one, but as soon as he reached for it, the red spots blinked and it burrowed into the ground like a drill to avoid his grasp. He wasn't sure going after it was worth the effort.
On what he thought was the way back to his camp, he stumbled across a small, rocky hill where a tiny cascading waterfall spilled over a little cave and flowed back into what looked like a tiny underground lake. The water tasted like stone and dirt, but it was drinkable. Then again, any liquid could be drinkable... once. He sat by the dinky waterfall and popped the white mushroom piece into his mouth. Bland and earthy. Now to wait and either puke or hallucinate- or both, or (Rob was crossing his fingers and hoping for this one) neither. Sure enough, hours passed with no incident, and so Rob, with crossed fingers once again, ate the yellowish piece.
Five minutes later, he shivered in the fetal position on the ground, head spinning, lost in a shifting world of amorphous colors, skin clammy, guts practically on fire. "Never again," he mumbled to himself, managing to toss the pink mushroom piece into the lake before collapsing on the ground and passing out.
DAY 6: HEADACHE
He couldn't have been sure the yellowish mushroom caused that reaction. Maybe it was a delayed effect from the white one! There wasn't a single fungus in this forest that he knew to be safe, and, still seeing the vestiges of swirling nightmares at the edges of his vision, it was a miracle he made it back to camp the next day without falling into one of his own still-empty traps. Maybe he had made that mistake too many times in the past to ever make it again. That sort of cocky thinking would put egg on his face if he ended up falling into one in the coming days, though, so he didn't let it make him confident.
Sitting on his rock with his head in his hands, Rob found his gaze drifting and landing upon a rabbit that had wandered to the edge of his clearing. A rabbit with horns... wait, was that part of the hallucination? No! It did have horns! It was a rabbit, but easier to grab! He made eye contact with its left eye and it inched closer. Suddenly, a familiar red mushroom burst from the ground behind it and it spooked, darting forward and- to Rob's amazement- into one of his pit traps! Mushrooms could be helpful after all!
The red and white one made a hissing sound, darted to the edge of the pit on tiny legs- was this even a mushroom?- and then, not wanting to risk the fall, walked away. As he put together a fire pit, Rob wondered what jackalope would taste like. Rabbit? Venison? Both?
DAY 7: BOTH
The coals were still warm, and Rob was feeling both fuller than he had in days and a little guiltier than he had in days.
He made his way to the waterfall to wash off a layer of dirt he noticed accumulating on him. On the bottom of the water, the chunk of pink mushroom had apparently regenerated and spawned about two dozen identical mushrooms. He drank from the waterfall instead of the pond this time.
Sometimes, cool guys on TV would sit under waterfalls and meditate. He wasn't sure what that did, but it was so common that it seemed to him it had to do something. He tried for about half an hour to get comfortable and found he was unable to, but maybe finding inner peace through the discomfort was the whole idea? Those waterfalls on TV, come to think of it, were always the super heavy rushing types, whereas this one was more like a trickle. Tomorrow he would return and sit by the waterfall and wait under it for something to fall into one of the traps. For now, he laid on the ground and let the sun dry him off.
DAY 8: INTERRUPTION
"I'm at peace with the universe. I am at peace with the universe," he repeated to himself, starting to feel a bit silly. Was this even what he was supposed to do while meditating?
The cave behind the waterfall was tiny, and nothing was in there, as he had discovered earlier while looking around. Just a pile of muddy boulders dislodged from the cave wall in some tremor at a much earlier point in time.
"I am at p-p-p-"
A freezing cold, solid, purposeful hand clamped down on his shoulder from the darkness and a shadow fell in front of him. His eye shot open. He got up, wrenched himself free, let out a blood-curdling scream, and ran... east.