Nameless

She hated running. No matter the playlist, weather, or new outfit, going for a run was something she woke up every day dreading. Yet here she was, running through the woods at sunrise, wondering why she put herself through this. Then she’d reminded herself that it was for her mental health to keep the anxiety and depression at bay. She'd spent most of her adult life battling the darkness in her mind and the swarm of anxious thoughts that proved to be a debilitating combination. At her worst moments, she’s gone days without a shower, and the smallest tasks seem too difficult. The meds she was on helped, and with the exercise, she felt more in control of herself. This reminder gave her a boost of energy, and she picked up the pace.

The forest behind her new house had a hiking trail, perfect for early-morning runs. This morning was overcast and foggy with the threat of rain present in the air. Fine by her, better to be drenched in rain than sweat. Despite being lush and full of bird song, the forest felt ominous most days. The branches hung like skeletal limbs waiting to embrace those who come too far into the woods. The drizzling rain and thick fog created an eerie backdrop for this morning’s run.

She'd run this trail every morning for the last month since moving in, but the path seemed different today. She thought she knew this trail well by now, yet the trees and surrounding bushes seemed out of place. No big deal, the storm from the previous night likely blew away the foliage. She kept going, despite warnings in her mind to turn back. Just her anxiety is trying to ruin her run. Not today, she would run deeper just to prove the anxious thoughts wrong. Had that fork in the path always been there? Her usual route was blocked by a fallen tree, so she began down the new trail. It was almost time to turn back anyway, so why not shake up the routine?

She slowed as she came to a door in the middle of the trail. Years of weathering were evident, yet standing straight, there was no sign of decay. Taking out her earbuds, she slowly approached the door, walking around it. Expecting to see the remains of a house’s foundation, she found none. She pulled out her phone to take a picture of the mysterious door in the middle of the rainy woods. Except her phone became hot to the touch and died as she tried to take the photo. She could have sworn she charged it last night. She should be heading back; being in the middle of the forest with a dead phone and unfamiliar surroundings was a bad idea. Then why couldn’t she tear herself away? Why did she want to open the door so much? It wouldn’t show her anything that she couldn’t already see for herself, but here she was reaching for the knob tarnished knob.

"Can I have your name?" A voice says, startling her.

Looking around, she doesn't see anyone at first, then her eyes land on the face of a man. No, he can't be; his features are almost too inhuman to be just a man. Angular cheekbones, alarmingly beautiful evergreen eyes, and a playful grin on his full lips. His presence bringing a brightness to dreary surroundings.

"Excuse me?" she asks hesitantly.

The stranger looked at her with evergreen eyes, like a predator trying to seem harmless to its prey. "Can I have your name? You can't expect to enter without giving me your name." He says matter-of-factly, as if this were common knowledge.

"Enter where?" she asks the stranger.

"Don't you want to know? Aren't you curious about what's on the other side?" cocking his head towards the weathered door.

Somewhere in her mind, instincts were telling her to run. This was not safe. To head back home and forget about this place, that damn door, and those piercing eyes. Maybe even call the cops when her phone is charged and tell them a strange person is acting as a doorman for an old door in the middle of the forest. Instead, she moved closer, music and laughter drowning out the sounds of the birds, soft tapping of rain fall, and all the warning thoughts in her mind as she approached; arm out reaching for the knob, a moth to flame. The joyous noises becoming louder and harder to resist. This stranger moved in front of her, standing between her and the object of her curiosity.

"I see how eager you are to join the party, sweet one. But first, can I have your name? Your whole name?"

Without hesitation, she said her full name out loud to the stranger. It fell so easily from her lips, like so many times, to many people. She’d signed it on countless documents, credit card receipts. Giving one’s name is so common, it's almost a thoughtless act in day-to-day life. However, something was different this time. Something deep inside her seemed to snap, like cutting a taut thread with razor-sharp scissors. She shook it off, the stranger moved out of the way, and the door was open. Had he opened it, or had it been her?

As she entered, he bowed with a flourish and said with an almost euphonic tone, "Thank you, sweet one."

She paid him no mind, her senses overrun with the scene before her as she stepped through the frame. It was no longer morning, but the dead of night. The forest seemed alive with the reflected firelight of the pyre blazing in the center of the clearing. Hundreds of people danced around the pyre, laughing and singing. The ones not dancing were drinking or taking lovers in the shadows. Not a care in the world was to be had. She wanted this, had this feeling, this reckless abandon, been what she’d been chasing? This revelry called to the most primal part of her brain, and she gave into it, full surrender.

She drank the sweetest wines, danced to exhaustion around the fire, but didn't stop. Kissed the beautiful strangers, not knowing who they were. College parties were nothing compared to this. For the first time in her life, her racing mind was quiet, the darkness chased away by the flames of the roaring fire. Her limbs were growing weak; she needed a break. How long had she been dancing? Wait, how long had she been here? Hours? Days?

The euphoria waned as she stepped away and looked more closely at the revelers, and for the first time, she was really seeing them. The revelers' features seemed to morph into more grotesque and feral forms. Flashes of sharpened teeth, long forked tongues, claws. Oh god. Where was she? What was she doing? She had to leave; this wasn't right; this wasn't normal. How had she gotten here? That damn old door.

The weathered old door was still there where she had entered. She ran to it, dodging and pushing past these creatures. God knows what would happen if she stayed. Her hand wrapped around the cool metal of the doorknob knob and it wouldn't turn. Locked. No, she had to get out of here. She kept pushing and pulling, but the door stayed firm.

"What is your name?" A woman with ice blue eyes and snow white hair asked from beside the door.

"Why do you want to know?" she hysterically replied to the woman.

"If you wish to leave, you need only to speak your name," the woman said calmly.

"My name is..." she began, but her name wasn't there. She knew she'd had one, but she couldn't recall it. It wasn't on the edge of memory like a song title on the tip of the tongue. She searched her thoughts, but there was nothing. She was trying to find knowledge of something that now seemed to never be there.

"My name is... my name... my name!" She began to sob uncontrollably, begging the woman to let her leave.

"I'm sorry, child, but if you do not possess a name, you cannot leave."

"Please, please! I don't belong here! Please let me go!" She begged, but the snowy maiden remained silent, looking at her with pity.

As her knees buckled, arms wrapped around her like chains, preventing her from falling. A familiar voice whispering in her ear, "Sweet one, don't you remember? You gave me your name? So willingly.”

Realization hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. What had she done?

“Didn't anyone ever tell you to never give your name to the old ones who reside in the woods?"

Holding her in place, she began to scream as he began to laugh.

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