It’s been 2 hours into a “quick 15-minute meeting” when I find my mind drifting as I stare blankly into my reflection in the tiny Zoom window. A mocking image of someone who clearly did not have enough of a backbone to set boundaries. What did happen to those? I feel mine disappeared the minute I started this godforsaken job. Probably signed them away to some fine print I couldn’t be bothered to read. Now here I am, on leave, sitting through another 'urgent' meeting about another 'urgent' deadline, trying to decipher a conversation that seemed to endlessly circle back on itself.

Urgently.

I sit staring at my video preview, angling my face to hide my double chin. Then I hear my boss say “...I’m sure you can carve out some time to work on this by tomorrow, since you’re already online. Great."

Oh god it must have looked like I was nodding along the whole time. I force a smile and say, “Sure, Brad,” like I had a choice. Frustrated at the trap of my own making, I suppress a sigh and open the files he just sent.

“Okay, that’s it,” Brad says, “back to work everyone.”

As I’m about to leave the call I hear him say, “Don’t forget, Tamara, we need that tomorrow. So...tomorrow. Super urgent.” He abruptly ends the call, cutting me off before I can even correct him. Seriously? He can't even get my name right when it's right there on the screen?

Do I even look like a Tamara?

I slam my laptop shut. If I’m expected to do work on my days off, I’m going to do it on my own terms: ‘maybe’ and ‘later’. After all, urgency is a social construct. A walk, however, is a necessary concrete action, a 'strategic alignment' with my sanity. I grab my shoes and head out, escaping the looming threat of my laptop screen, into the warmth of the sun.

—

I walk through my usual route around town with a briskness that could only be fueled by my disbelief at Brad’s sheer audacity. As I near the last stretch of my walk, a break in the trees reveals a hidden grove I’d never noticed before—an invitation to explore a new trail, and definitely not an excuse to delay work. Who knows, maybe I’ll find a forest witch named Tamara that could make Brad disappear.

I step further into the grove, and the world around me grows still and quiet. The greenery getting more dense, closing in on me with every step I took. Then, a faint glint catches my eye, and I walk over to examine what’s hidden in the grass. I find a compass, its metal scratched and dented. I try to pull the cover open, but it’s stuck, probably rusted over. I shove it in my pocket, already planning how I’m going to fix it when I get back home.

Looking around, I notice how the foliage has thickened along the path. I can’t see anything except the trail ahead that seemed to dissolve into a blur of green. I reach into my pocket and begin fidgeting with the compass as I walk; a distraction from the growing unease as I delve deeper into the woods. A sharp click jolts me from my thoughts, the compass cover snapping open. I squint and try to make sense of what I’m looking at, because it sure as hell isn’t a compass.

Inside is a mix of symbols and colors that seemed to shift and pulse as I moved through the woods. Etched on the compass cover is another mystery altogether: some sort of cryptic code that echoes the strange symbols writhing around the compass face. Confused, and distracted by this weird new thingy, I crash into a large thicket blocking the path. The impact barely registers when I begin to feel the branches scratch and reach for me. I stagger away from the wall of green, arms flailing wildly, a pathetic attempt to push the branches off me.

What the fuck is going on?

I look around in a panic, and suddenly notice two paths on either side of me. Waiting, expectantly, for me to make a choice. I look down at the compass, the weight of it feeling heavier in my hands, the sigils dancing across its face seeming to pulse with anticipation. I turn the gadget over until the symbols match the cryptic inscription, guiding me to a path.

“This is so weird,” I mutter, but I go deeper into the forest anyway, compelled by an unknown…something…to move forward. I notice the leaves and foliage lining the trail seem to writhe and twist, almost as if they were crawling out of the shadows toward me.

No, it’s probably just the light playing tricks on me.
Or my astigmatism.
Or literally any other realistic explanation.
Or maybe it’s Tamara the forest witch reminding me of the work waiting for me at home.

Ha.

Whatever it is, it’s probably better than whatever task Brad is expecting me to finish by tomorrow. I move along deeper into the forest, funky compass in hand to lead the way.

—

The farther I walk, the stranger the route becomes. The compass guides me through a tangled web of twists and turns, getting more confusing with every step. It’s starting to get dark now, and I still don’t see an end to this trail. I decide to turn back, but the path behind me has vanished, a dense wall of green blocking my only way back, as if the trail had never existed. I panic and try to break through it, but the branches are too thick and heavy to pull apart. Dread sets in my stomach and I realize I have no choice but to keep walking until I find my way out.

As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

I walk for so long that I’m beginning to lose the concept of time. The compass and its cryptic symbols are my only shred of hope to get out of here, but the trail seems like it’s constantly shifting. The directions morph into nonsense, and the forest closes in on me, making the passage even more difficult to navigate. I just took my fourth right turn…am I going in circles? Where the hell is this compass taking me?

Darkness falls, and my exhaustion starts to sink in. Shadows dart across my periphery, branches scratch at my skin, and I swear I hear faint whispers through the vines. Like the forest is watching me, trying to tell me something.

Great. I’m not just lost in this forest, I’m also losing my mind.

The darkness makes the compass barely visible, a metal phantom in my hand. Not like it was doing me any favors before. "Useless piece of shit," I curse, throwing the stupid thing into the trees. I push onward and stumble over the mess of roots and vines that have claimed the path. I blindly forcemy way through, desperate for any escape. My body starts weighing me down, begging for rest. I sink to the ground to catch my breath, and I hear a brittle snap from right behind me. I reach over slowly, to push the branch aside, and my fingers close around something rough and…sticky? Something’s off. I bring it closer and my chest tightens. It’s a fucking bone.

No no no no.

I jump back up and run. My heart hammers against my chest like it’s trying to tear its way out. My ragged breathing and pounding footsteps echoes through the passage, a chilling chorus with the

growing whispers in the trees. I look in horror as the untamed thickets around me start to visibly move. I’ve lost all sense of direction and get desperate. I try climbing the hedges, only for the vines to cling to my limbs. I pull myself away, thorns digging into my skin, leaving angry red scratches.

I fight my way through the obstructing foliage, tearing at the vines and branches, but it does nothing. The walls knit themselves back together, growing back thicker than before. I scream in rage while I try to force my way through, unable to stop myself even if I know it’s useless. I claw at the hedges, shredding my hands to ribbons, the strong metallic scent of my blood filling the air. The foliage around me writhes, as if reacting to the taste of my blood, quivering as it wraps around me. I scramble away, searching frantically for any opening, any gap in the dense green. In the distance, I see the faint glimmer of the rising sun illuminating a narrow path. I make a break for it and sprint towards it, praying it’s real.

As if on cue, the whole forest comes alive and morphs and rearranges itself. The trees bend towards me, branches outstretched and clawing at me, and the whispers in the vines erupt to hungry shrieks. The ground is rough and uneven, a mess of roots, vines, and bones slowing me down. I struggle to make my way through as fast as my exhausted body could take me. I run, and run, and run, ignoring the foliage lashing at me.

I run because that’s the only thing left to do, and push myself to speed up, to outrun the living wood.

But it’s no use. The forest is faster.

Everything closes in on me with an overwhelming speed. Suddenly, the ground engulfs my feet; roots entangling my legs, crawling their way higher like serpents. The foliage, thick and heavy, wraps around me like a suffocating embrace. Rough branches push in on me, its sharp talons digging into my skin. The sickly sweet smell of sap takes over my senses as the crushing pressure of the green engulfs me, shrouding me in darkness, tightening its grip.

Brad’s gonna be so pissed I didn’t make the deadline.

***

This piece is a contribution to the digital zine “Imaginary Gardens”, conceptualized and produced by the 1st-year Contextual Design masters students at Design Academy Eindhoven, May 2025