Midnight

It’s 2 o’clock in the morning. I must be dreaming, I said, yes, yes you are, you’re very much in your own dream. Before me, an infinite row of houses, extending monotonously in one direction. The streets are dry and damp, the surroundings bright and dark, the colors red and black.

Why, where is my house? Was I not in bed? An eerie silence surrounded me, a sound of solitude, a monstrous evil, an unsettling death.

“Hey, anyone there?” Ouch, seems like I’m awake after all. “What is this place?” No response. Not even an echo.

Taking a step forward, nearing the houses, the blood-red light completely absorbed by the window panes. Looking further, a darkness — no, no longer dark, but a mist, a white fog steadily approaching, uncovering what’s beneath the shadows…

As darkness disappeared, the mist uncovers shadows; a wet wind blows by, but nothing is heard. Walking forward, my clothes become moist, a strong desire to lie down and sleep enters my body.

Rustle, swoosh; there’s the sound. Almost delayed, nearly half a tick, the mist gathering again to block off the light. Too dark now, and I turn back, the bloodlights back in view.

A step and the next, one step at a time, one foot per second, 20 yards per minute… One lamp per house, looking down at my feet, the red light dimming periodically, counting what I’ve passed.

48990, 48991, 48992, 48993, 48994, 48995, 48996, 48997, 48998, 48999,

Darkness. The cycle of bright and dark red suddenly absent, accompanied by a cold emptiness.

I look up: nothing.

I look forward: still nothing.

Chills enter my body, shivers run through every muscle and vein. That cold wetness crawling upon me again, but nothing can be seen.

I turn back, and all lights have extinguished.

Tik. Tok.

The sound comes from the left; Indeed, an undeniable rhythm.

Tic-toc. Tic-toc. Tic-toc.

Without realizing, my head has turned left, and I lift my sight to check if there’s light in the distance.

No lights, but the fog is here. Wet mist seeps under my clothes, into my body, piercing through my bones. An agonizing pain settles upon me, an abstract pain, something monstrous existing everywhere and nowhere at once.

The mist darker than before, revealing crooked shadows of twigs and branches, twisted wickedly as if anticipating the unprepared traveller.

I turn in circles; sure enough, the indistinguishable sticks surround me in every direction. Trying my best to ignore the surroundings, I continue counting.

980 houses. If there were still houses. Taking the next step, I fall.

A void, it seems, where the 981th house should’ve been. Falling up and down, down and up, entering the pit again and again, I grab onto the shadows.

Suddenly, I’m back on solid ground, facing towards a black pit: no sticks, twigs, even the mist seems to be contained by a border. It’s farther, those trees more distant, standing somewhere before the 990th house.

Tic. toc.

Trees disappear. And then it’s obvious: one lamp per house, one tree per lamp. The mist is pushed away, revealing nothing, then flowing back, illuminating the dark branches. The trees, moving away and back, but surely and steadily fading into light.

The light dims the mist, everything darkness, no longer existent. I must make my way back. At least when the trees are still to guide me.

Think, think, think! A voice comes from within, the hazy sight blinding my eyes, no more sense of self, no longer existing in the forest.

A calmness settles, rather unexpected, my head asleep, my mind awake. Little time remains — flickering between bright white and blood red, darkness settling, branches increasingly crooked, stems twisting and curling, trees evaporating before my eyes.

I count my steps, but the ticking noise in the background breaks my thought. No longer am I aware of my position in the forest. Breath… inhale… exhale… Some of the trees are popping back.

So chaotic… disappearing and reappearing in different orders, at different times… Their patterns are random and wild, changing every cycle, shifting rapidly… Still, they wait for each other, going in cycles, hiding once and only once, waiting for the next cycle to come.

tic. toc.

But, there seems to be that weird number… At least this number of trees are all invisible at the same point in time, or…

490 seconds. 489 seconds. 488 seconds…

Otherwise, in every cycle there seems to be that number of trees, not daring to disappear together…

tic. toc.

Perplexing, almost as if those crooked twigs have emotion, some of them accompanying each other underground, while others despise going down with their comrades…

The number changes as I go, different each cycle… but there’s always a minimum number, decreasing as I step forward, increasing as I step back, unchanging when I look ahead. The trees can see me, or can they?

476 seconds, 475 seconds, 474 seconds, 473 seconds, 472 seconds…

The redness is fading, lights are dimming. “Quick, be quick, be fast, know where you are…”

Trying to see towards the end of the trees, trying my best to take note of that special number… Knowing where I am, so I can be back in bed.

(I actually wrote this at 2am. I apologize if it’s not scary, because every little noise scared the life out of me while writing this.)

By the way, if you haven’t noticed, it’s actually a cute math problem, inspired by the 2023 China Mathematics Olympiad. Try solving it!