It was 11:57 p.m. Three minutes until I turned twenty-five and the new year punched me in the face at the same time.
I sat alone on the sagging sofa of my rented studio, staring at the sad little 500-gram vanilla cake I'd bought on discount. Next to it stood the only family photo I still owned — me at six, sandwiched between Mom and Dad, all three of us smiling like the world hadn't already decided to screw us over.
They died when I was eight. Car accident. I still heard Mom's last words every time I closed my eyes.
"My sweet little child… you have to live well. We're sorry we couldn't give you the family you deserved."
I exhaled through my teeth. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm still here. Still breathing. Still trying."
One minute left.
Fireworks were already popping somewhere far away, mocking me. I flipped open the cake box, grabbed the cheap plastic knife, and set it beside the candleless cake like I was preparing for surgery.
To kill the silence, I turned on the TV and mindlessly scrolled YouTube. A thumbnail with a wild-eyed man screaming at the camera caught my attention. The title read: "THE 25TH BIRTHDAY CURSE — 2026 IS NEXT."
I clicked.
The guy was foaming at the mouth. "—exactly ten every year since 2000! Five guys, five girls, gone. Poof. No bodies, no ransom, nothing! And tonight… tonight the next ten disappear—"
I snorted and switched to music before he could finish. "Carol of the Bells" filled the room. At least the melody was pretty.
Ten seconds.
I picked up the knife.
Five.
Four.
Three.
The moment the clock hit zero, I drove the blade into the cake and lifted a messy piece toward my mouth.
A glowing white circle exploded under my feet.
My stomach lurched. I tried to jump back — too late.
The world folded in on itself.
Cake and knife still in my hands, I vanished.
---
Far across the city, the same man the internet had called a lunatic for years sprinted toward the nearest police station, eyes wild, phone already recording.
"This time they'll believe me," he panted. "This time the whole damn world will know I wasn't crazy."
---
I woke up naked.
Not "kinda naked." Not "missing my shirt." Utterly, gloriously, balls-to-the-wind naked.
The sun hammered down on my face like it had a personal grudge. I groaned and sat up slowly, every muscle screaming. The grass underneath me was so soft and thick it felt like someone had carpeted the entire planet in luxury velvet. I dug my fingers into it. Unreal.
I looked around.
Nothing.
Just endless rolling plains of that same stupidly perfect grass in every direction. Two or three kilometers away, a wall of trees rose like green skyscrapers, their tops scraping actual clouds. The forest looked ancient. Angry. Hungry.
I staggered to my feet, still clutching the half-smashed piece of vanilla cake in one hand and the plastic knife in the other like a complete idiot.
"AHHHHHHHH!" I screamed at the sky. "Motherfuckers! Who the hell did this?! At least give me some fucking clothes, you cosmic assholes!"
My voice cracked and died in the open air. No echo. No reply. Just wind sliding through the grass like it was mocking me.
I dropped back down, knees in the dirt.
The tears came without warning. Ugly, choking sobs that shook my whole naked body. I tried to wipe my face but only smeared cake frosting across my cheek.
"Damn it… I was scared. Where the fuck am I? What the fuck is this?!"
I cried like a little kid for a solid minute. Then the hunger hit — a deep, gnawing hole in my stomach that made my hands shake. The tiny piece of cake in my fist suddenly looked like the most precious thing on Earth.
I stuffed it in my mouth, frosting and all, and chewed while standing up.
No choice. The forest was the only thing that wasn't endless nothing.
Every step sank into that impossibly soft grass. My bare feet were already sore. My breathing turned ragged after only a few hundred meters. No mosquitoes. No birds. No crickets. No distant roar of anything alive. Just… silence. The kind of silence that made the hair on my neck stand up.
This place was wrong.
But hunger and terror made a hell of a motivator. I kept walking toward the treeline, completely naked, plastic knife still clenched in my fist like it could save me from whatever nightmare I'd just been dropped into.
By the time I reached the edge of the forest my legs were shaking so badly I thought they'd give out. The wall of trees loomed over me like a living skyscraper. Inside, it was pitch black — not a single ray of sunlight made it through the canopy. Just shadows and the faint smell of something sweet and heavy in the air.
I stopped. Heart hammering.
Eat grass? The thought actually crossed my mind and I almost laughed like a lunatic. No. Fuck no. I'm not that far gone yet.
I shook my head hard, muttered "Sorry, Mom… I'm not Bear Grylls," and stepped into the gloom.
The moment I crossed the threshold the temperature dropped. The air turned thick, damp, and dead quiet. No birds. No insects. Just my own ragged breathing and the soft squelch of my bare feet on moss. The trees here were monsters — trunks wider than cars, branches so high they might as well have been touching the sky. Clusters of fruit hung just out of easy reach, fat and red, looking way too much like apples for my comfort.
Hunger clawed at my stomach again, sharper this time. My vision was starting to tunnel.
Poisonous? Probably. But dying from poison beats dying from starvation, right?
I snatched up a fist-sized stone from the ground. My arm felt like wet spaghetti. First throw — missed by a meter. Second — hit the trunk and bounced off. Third, fourth, fifth — I was cursing louder with every failure, voice cracking.
"Come on, you bastard—!"
The sixth throw finally connected. One fruit tumbled down and smacked the moss with a wet thump.
I dropped to my knees and snatched it up. It looked perfect. Too perfect. Shiny red skin, not a single bruise. I brought it to my nose, inhaled, then hesitated one last time.
"Fuck it."
I sank my teeth in.
Sweetness exploded across my tongue — like the best apple I'd ever eaten, but richer, almost too good. Juice ran down my chin and onto my bare chest. I didn't care. I devoured the whole thing in seconds, core and all, then licked my sticky fingers like a starving animal.
For the first time since waking up, my stomach stopped screaming.
I let out a long, shaky breath.
Then a heavy wave of sleepiness slammed into me like a truck.
No, no, no — I need to make a fire, I need—
My back hit the tree trunk. Eyelids dropped like lead shutters. Exhaustion won.
When my eyes snapped open again it was full night.
Soft moonlight filtered through the canopy, painting everything in silver and black. I was still slumped against the same tree, heart suddenly racing for no reason I could name.
I blinked hard, trying to shake the fog. Stay awake. Just until sunrise. Then move.
But sleep tugged at me again, thick and syrupy.
That was when I heard it.
Tap… tap… tap…
Slow, deliberate footsteps on the moss.
Ice poured down my spine. I couldn't move. Couldn't even twitch. My body locked up like it had been unplugged.
The footsteps drew closer.
And then she stepped into the moonlight.
A clown.
Full white face paint, blood-red smile painted in a perfect arc, black tears running down her cheeks, bright red nose, oversized colorful costume that somehow still looked tailored. Mid-thirties. And — fuck me — she was beautiful. Like, painfully, unfairly beautiful under all that makeup. High cheekbones, sharp eyes, long lashes. The kind of face that would stop traffic even without the clown shit.
She stopped three meters away and just… stared.
Deadpan. Zero emotion. Like I was a mildly interesting rock.
My naked ass was on full display. Cake frosting still smeared on my chest from earlier. Plastic knife lying useless beside me.
I didn't move a muscle. I had already accepted death.
She crouched slowly, bringing her face level with mine. Up close the makeup was flawless — not a single smudge. Her eyes drifted over every inch of my bare skin without a flicker of surprise, shame, or interest. Just… blank.
We stared at each other in silence for what felt like a hundred years.
The embarrassment finally became unbearable. My voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old's as I forced the words out.