"Waking up is usually a simple thing. You open your eyes, stretch a little, and immediately recognize where you are—your bed, your couch, maybe even the backseat of a car after a long trip. But when I woke up on a cold park bench in the middle of New York, surrounded by the distant honking of taxis and the chatter of early risers, one thing was clear.
This wasn't normal. Not even close.
It took me a little while to realize that I wasn't where I was supposed to be—not even close. The smell of hot pretzels and car exhaust filled the air, a crisp breeze cutting through my clothes. My mind was groggy, like I had just woken from a dream I couldn't remember. I sat up slowly, my body aching like I'd just run a marathon.
The problem? I had no memory of how I got here."
Getting up from the bench was harder than it should've been. My legs were stiff, like I'd been sitting there for hours—or days. My mind felt foggy, disoriented. I stumbled slightly, catching myself on the back of the bench as I stood. A wave of nausea hit me, but I pushed it aside. I had to figure out what was going on.
I reached into my pockets, half-expecting to find nothing, but surprisingly, there was something. First, I pulled out my wallet. Flipping it open, I glanced at my driver's license. But when I saw the details, my stomach churned. The photo was me—no doubt about that—but the dates... They were wrong. The address didn't match anything I recognized, and my birthday was listed a full year off. My pulse quickened. How could that happen?
Next, I pulled out my car keys, then fumbled with my phone, tapping the screen. It flickered to life for a moment before freezing on a black screen, refusing to cooperate. No signal. No apps. It was like it was dead... but not really.
Confused, I scanned the area. New York, the city that never sleeps, but something was off about it today. My heart skipped when I noticed a familiar sight—an open parking lot just a few yards away.
I moved toward it, my shoes scraping against the pavement, the crunch of gravel underfoot. Without thinking, I clicked the button on my key fob, the one that should've made my car beep from wherever I was parked.
To my surprise, the response was immediate—HONK! HONK! The sound echoed around the park, loud and unmistakable.
I froze.
How did I get here? How was my car here? The last thing I remembered... was not this. The questions spiraled in my mind faster than I could process them.
Had I been kidnapped? Was this some kind of sick joke?
I stood there, heart pounding, still struggling to understand how my car—and myself—could be here without any memory of how or why.
"How did I get to New York? I was supposed to be in Indiana. I remember leaving the house just yesterday—no, it was two days ago, wasn't it? I was heading out to grab some coffee, nothing extraordinary. But this... this was beyond ordinary.
I stood there, trying to make sense of it, my head still spinning. My eyes scanned the park again, the towering buildings around me, the unfamiliar streets. How could I have gotten so far from where I was supposed to be? The city felt suffocating, too big, too overwhelming for someone who had no memory of the journey here.**
I took another step toward my car, my mind racing. The distance between Indiana and New York wasn't something that could just be crossed in a blink—especially not without me noticing. Had I been drugged? Kidnapped and transported without a trace? Or maybe I was... dreaming?
The more I thought about it, the crazier it all sounded. But how else could I explain this? My head throbbed with questions I couldn't answer.
I clicked the button on the key fob again, just to hear the car honk once more. Maybe it was a small comfort, some thread of normalcy in a world that suddenly felt so wrong. But it didn't make any sense. And the longer I stood there, the more the terrifying thought crept in—what if I was supposed to be here for a reason I couldn't remember?
I found my car parked exactly where the honking had led me. Sliding into the driver's seat, I turned the key, and the engine roared to life. The familiar hum beneath my hands gave me a sense of control—something I desperately needed right now.
The roads were packed, a chaotic mess of honking horns and impatient drivers, but I barely noticed. I just kept driving, weaving through traffic like it was second nature. I didn't know where I was going—only that I needed to get away. Away from that park, away from the confusion clawing at my mind. So I pressed down on the gas and kept moving forward.
After an hour of driving, I finally pulled over and killed the engine. The hum of the car faded, leaving only the distant rustling of leaves and the faint chirping of birds in the background. I stepped out, stretching my legs, and took a slow, deep breath.
The air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of damp soil and pine. Trees surrounded me—tall, ancient, their thick trunks and sprawling branches casting long shadows in the fading sunlight. I wasn't sure where I was, but it didn't matter. For the first time since waking up on that park bench, I wasn't moving, wasn't questioning—I was just here.
I stared at the forest, my mind empty, my body still. No panic. No confusion. Just silence.
A blur of headlights and metal shot past me, the car moving faster than any speed limit would ever allow. The roar of its engine faded into the distance, but before I could even process what just happened, another sound reached my ears—a deep, thunderous noise, like something massive tearing through the forest behind me.
I turned my head slightly, heart hammering in my chest. The noise was getting closer. Branches snapped. The ground trembled.
Yeah, no. I had seen enough horror movies to know staying put was a bad idea.
I yanked open the car door and threw myself inside, my hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled urgency. The engine roared to life, and I floored it, speeding down the empty road as the unseen force behind me gave chase. The sound of pursuit never faded—it only grew louder, more relentless, like whatever was back there wanted me to hear it coming.
Up ahead, I spotted the car that had passed me. It veered off the main road, taking a sharp turn onto a dirt path marked with an old wooden sign:
Strawberry Farm.
Without thinking, I followed.
The second my tires hit the path, the sky cracked open, and rain came down in thick, heavy sheets. The world blurred in streaks of silver and black, my wipers barely keeping up. The dirt road turned slick, mud spraying up as my car struggled for traction. But I didn't stop. I couldn't.
Because whatever was behind me was still coming.
I closed the distance between us, my tires kicking up mud as I tailed the speeding car. Now that I was closer, I could make out the silhouettes inside—three figures. Two of them were smaller, probably kids, and the third was an adult woman in the driver's seat.
They weren't slowing down.
I tightened my grip on the wheel, my pulse pounding in my ears. Whoever they were, they were running from something too. And judging by the way they drove, they knew exactly what it was.
The rain continued to hammer down, blurring the windshield. I flicked on the high beams, hoping to catch a better look at them, but just as I did—
A shadow moved in the treeline.
A big one.
Something was out there. And it wasn't slowing down either.
I kept my foot on the gas, my only thought: Keep up. Stay with them. Figure this out later.
My car kept moving, tires skidding slightly on the rain-slicked road, and the car in front of me did the same. Then—
Flash.
A blinding light split the darkness.
BOOM.
A deafening explosion tore through the air, shaking the ground beneath me. I barely had time to react before I saw the car ahead flip into the air like a toy, twisting violently before crashing into the mud with a sickening thud.
Smoke billowed from the wreck, thick and dark, but there were no flames—yet.
Heart hammering, I yanked the wheel to the side, my tires screaming against the wet ground as I slammed the brakes. The car fishtailed, mud spraying up around me, but I managed to stop just short of the wreck.
For a second, everything was still.
Then, through the haze of rain and smoke, I saw movement inside the overturned vehicle.
They were still alive.
I threw open my door and ran.
The smoke was thicker now, rising in dark plumes into the stormy sky. Rain pelted down, sizzling against the heated metal of the wreck.
The woman and one of the kids had managed to get out, their clothes soaked and streaked with mud. But the other child was still trapped inside, slumped against the seat, unconscious.
I ran toward them without thinking.
They were struggling, yanking at the door, but it was jammed. The woman's hands were shaking as she pulled. The kid beside her was frantic, their voice hoarse as they shouted the trapped child's name.
I didn't stop to ask questions. I pressed my shoulder against the car and pushed.
Metal groaned. The wreck shifted slightly.
They stopped and stared at me, wide-eyed, like I had just done something impossible.
I didn't care. I met their gaze and yelled over the storm, my voice cutting through the chaos.
"HURRY!"
The woman snapped out of it first. She reached in, grabbed the unconscious kid, and with a final tug, pulled them free.
The moment she did, the rain seemed to fall harder. The ground trembled.
It's here.
Wait… did that kid have goat legs?
I did a double take. Yep. Those were definitely goat legs—furry, bent the wrong way, and ending in little hooves.
I decided to ignore that for now. Priorities.
The woman, who seemed to be in charge, barked out an order. "To the tree—the big one!"
I didn't question it. She grabbed the goat-legged kid and started moving, but he was unconscious, and she was struggling under his weight.
"Here!" I said, shouldering some of the load. Without waiting for permission, I hoisted him onto my back and took off.
I didn't know what was chasing us. I didn't want to know. I just knew I needed to run.
We stumbled up a hill, pushing through waist-deep grass that soaked our legs with rain and mud. The storm raged on, lightning flashing overhead.
Then, against my better judgment, I glanced back.
And holy hell.
The thing chasing us was huge. Seven feet tall—at least. His arms and legs looked like something straight out of a bodybuilding magazine, all bulging biceps, triceps, and a whole bunch of other 'ceps, stuffed under vein-webbed skin.
And he was fast.
Oh, and as if the nightmare fuel wasn't enough? The only thing he was wearing was bright white Fruit of the Loom underwear.
Which might've been funny. If he didn't look like he could snap me in half with one hand.
I recognized the monster. So did the other kid—the one still on his feet.
"That's—" he started, breathless.
"Pasiphaë's son."
The woman cut him off sharply. "I wish I'd known how badly they wanted to kill you."
The kid stiffened. "But that's the Min—"
"Don't say his name!" she snapped. "Names have power."
I swallowed hard and glanced ahead. The pine tree she had mentioned was still too far. Way too far.
I risked another look back.
The bull-man was hunched over the wrecked car, his massive hands gripping the frame as he ripped the door clean off like it was made of tin foil. He peered inside, sniffing, like he was checking for survivors.
Then, from the kid slung over my shoulder, I heard a groggy, muffled word.
"Food…"
It was obvious now—the woman and the kid running beside me were related. They spoke in hushed, urgent whispers, their voices too low for the monster to hear.
But I could.
Not that I had time to focus on their conversation.
A deep, guttural bellow shattered the air behind us. The ground shook as the monster picked up speed.
I looked ahead—the pine tree was close. Just a few yards away. We could make it.
Then the woman shouted, "Separate!"
I didn't think. I just reacted.
We split—she veered one way, the other kid another, and I… well, I kept running, the unconscious goat-legged kid still slung over my shoulder.
Behind me, the bull-man roared again, closer now. Too close. The bull-man charged straight for the kid.
For a split second, the boy froze—eyes wide, fear plain on his face. But then, just as the monster was about to trample him, he moved.
At the last possible moment, he weaved left, dodging by mere inches.
The bull-man skidded, unable to stop his momentum, dirt and grass tearing up beneath his hooves. He let out a frustrated snort, nostrils flaring as he whipped around to face us again.
But that split second of delay? It was all we needed.
We were almost at the tree. We reached the crest of the hill, gasping for breath. But the bull-man wasn't done.
His blood-red eyes locked onto the woman. With a furious snort, he charged.
She tried to sidestep, just like the kid had—but the monster had learned. This time, his massive hand shot out and caught her by the neck.
She struggled, kicking, punching, trying to pry his fingers away. But he was too strong.
"Mom!" the kid screamed.
Her eyes met his. "Go!" she commanded, her voice strained but fierce.
Then, with a deafening roar, the bull-man tightened his grip.
And she vanished.
One second she was there, struggling in his grasp. The next, she dissolved into golden light, like some kind of holographic projection shutting off.
I stood there, heart hammering, mind racing.
Because in the back of my head, one thought screamed louder than the rest:
That's not how humans die.
I glanced to the side—the kid was furious, but the monster's eyes were locked on me and the unconscious goat-legged boy in my arms.
The other kid must've realized it too because he ripped off his red coat and started waving it around like a matador.
"Hey, stupid ground beef!" he taunted.
The bull-man roared and charged at him.
At the last second, the kid sprinted forward, planted a foot on the monster's head, and flipped over it like some kind of acrobat. The Minotaur—because that's what it had to be—barreled straight into the pine tree we'd been running toward.
Before I could react, the kid locked his arms around one of the monster's horns.
Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was pure rage from watching someone seemingly die right in front of me. But I set the goat-legged kid down and sprinted forward faster than I ever had in my life.
I grabbed the Minotaur's other horn.
For a second, we just stood there, straining, pulling with everything we had.
Then—
CRACK.
The horns snapped clean off.
Without thinking, we both drove the jagged ends straight into the Minotaur's chest. The beast froze, let out a final, guttural bellow—then exploded into golden dust.
The other kid stumbled forward, exhausted. He made it to his fallen friend before collapsing next to him.
I exhaled, my whole body shaking from exhaustion.
Then, gritting my teeth, I scooped them both up and started walking. The only thing guiding me was a distant light in the valley ahead. Step by step, I pushed forward until I reached a porch.
I barely made it to the steps before my vision swam, and I felt myself falling.
Just before I blacked out, I heard hooves—hoofbeats, like a horse.
And then—darkness.