Sunday Short: Backwards
- Faiz Faisal
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
The first thing Anan remembered was waking up alone in the woods.
Rainwater dripped from the leaves above him. The air smelled of wet earth and rotting wood. His clothes were damp, his head pounded, and for several terrifying seconds he couldn't remember where he was.
Or how he got there.
He pushed himself upright.
The forest stretched endlessly in every direction.
No roads.
No signs.
No people.
Just trees.
Then he heard someone calling his name.
"Anan!"
The voice grew closer.
A man burst through the undergrowth, breathing heavily.
"There you are."
Relief washed over the stranger's face.
Anan stared blankly.
The man froze.
"You don't remember me?"
Anan slowly shook his head.
The stranger forced a smile.
"My name is Chai."
He extended his hand.
"We've been best friends since school."
According to Chai, they had been hiking together outside Chiang Mai.
At some point, Anan wandered off the trail and never returned.
Chai spent hours searching before finally finding him unconscious.
The doctors later blamed dehydration and exhaustion.
Temporary memory loss.
Nothing serious.
At least that's what they said.
Anan wanted to believe them.
So he tried.
Life resumed.
Or at least it appeared to.
Anan returned to work at a small marketing company in the city. His coworkers welcomed him back with concerned smiles and endless questions.
Most days were uneventful.
Emails.
Meetings.
Coffee.
Deadlines.
Normal life.
Yet there were moments that bothered him.
Tiny moments.
The kind that stayed in his head long after they happened.
One morning, he noticed a scar on his arm.
A long thin scar running across his forearm.
He couldn't remember getting it.
The next week, it seemed smaller.
He convinced himself he was imagining things.
A month later, it had almost vanished.
There were other things.
A broken mug somehow reappeared on his kitchen shelf.
An old argument with a coworker seemed to become less hostile every time he remembered it.
Photographs on his phone showed events he didn't recall attending.
Some of them felt oddly familiar.
Others felt completely foreign.
It was like someone had shuffled his memories and handed them back out of order.
The only constant was Chai.
Whenever Anan felt overwhelmed, Chai was there.
Checking in.
Offering help.
Making sure he was okay.
At times, it almost felt excessive.
As though Chai was watching him.
Waiting for something.
Months passed.
Then came the dreams.
Dark woods.
Rain.
Fear.
A flashlight beam cutting through the trees.
Every dream ended before he could see what frightened him.
But each time he woke, one detail lingered.
Chai was always there.
Standing nearby.
Watching.
Eventually, Anan couldn't ignore it anymore.
Something had happened in those woods.
Something more than getting lost.
Every instinct in his body told him so.
One evening he called Chai.
"I want to go back."
The silence on the other end lasted too long.
"Back where?"
"The forest."
Another pause.
Then a quiet sigh.
"Are you sure?"
"No."
"But I need answers."
They returned the following weekend.
The forest looked exactly as Anan remembered.
Or perhaps exactly as he dreamed.
The deeper they walked, the worse the feeling became.
His heart raced.
His palms sweated.
Fragments of memories flickered at the edges of his mind.
A conversation.
A shout.
Rain.
Blood.
Then they reached a clearing.
The moment Anan stepped into it, everything came rushing back.
Not all at once.
Piece by piece.
Like a puzzle finally assembling itself.
He remembered arguing with Chai.
Not hiking.
Arguing.
He remembered accusing him of something.
Money.
A betrayal.
Someone else's name.
He remembered Chai crying.
Begging him to stop.
Then—
The knife.
The memory hit him so hard his knees buckled.
The blade entering his chest.
The shock.
The pain.
The look on Chai's face.
Not anger.
Regret.
Immediate regret.
Anan stared at his friend.
The world suddenly made sense.
The disappearing scar.
The returning objects.
The memories arriving backward.
Everything.
He hadn't been moving forward since waking up in the woods.
He had been moving backward.
Experiencing his life in reverse from the moment of his death.
Each day bringing him closer to understanding what happened.
Closer to remembering.
Closer to this moment.
The true beginning.
Or rather—
The true ending.
Tears filled Anan's eyes.
"The day I woke up here..."
His voice trembled.
Chai looked away.
Anan already knew.
"The day I woke up in these woods wasn't the day I got lost."
Chai remained silent.
"It was the day I died."
The forest suddenly felt colder.
Neither man moved.
Neither man spoke.
Finally, Anan whispered the truth.
"You killed me."
Chai closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked relieved.
Like a man carrying a burden for far too long.
Then he nodded.
Once.
Slowly.
Painfully.
"Yes."
The single word shattered what remained of their friendship.
Anan's hands shook.
A thousand questions flooded his mind.
But only one mattered.
One question that had haunted him since the moment he opened his eyes in the forest.
One question Chai had never answered.
One question that suddenly felt more terrifying than death itself.
Anan looked at his best friend.
And asked:
"Why?"
Chai's face went pale.
Not with guilt.
Not with shame.
With fear.
The kind of fear reserved for secrets that should never be spoken aloud.
His eyes drifted toward the trees behind Anan.
Toward something hidden deep within the forest.
Something neither of them wanted to remember.
Something far worse than murder.
Then Chai whispered:
"Because if I didn't..."
And stopped.
The wind died.
The forest fell silent.
And somewhere beyond the trees—
Something moved.
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