Prompt: You visit the mysterious woods where you were lost in as a child and had to be rescued by a stranger. You come back...and find yours

It was a lovely day to wander and the leaves underfoot seemed to agree. They scampered and tumbled over the forest floor, painting the ground a shifting palette of muted reds and browns. They'd swirl around the base of a tree, ride the autumn breeze over fallen logs, and occasionally spin hypnotically in place, all the while rustling excitedly amongst themselves. Not to be outdone, the tall spruce trees swayed with the good-naturedness of old men preparing to rock out of their armchairs and join in the frolicking of children. Golden bars of sunlight streamed through the shifting canopy, adding splotches of light and dark to the painting of the leaves.

I couldn't help but smile as I picked my way through the familiar woods. It was hard to believe this was where I'd spent hours whimpering and sobbing in my youth, lost and afraid. Of course, back then the trees had seemed taller and more numerous. The sunlight dim, cold and unfriendly. The rustling of leaves the chittering of terrible and nightmarish creatures. Ah the naïve dramatism of youth, ever the -

I walked into a spiderweb.

"Agh!" I spat, jumping back and clawing at my face for the invisible threads I'd felt. I coughed and sputtered, bending to wipe my shirt vigorously over my face. I could feel the thin strands against my cheeks but why couldn't I grab them? Had the spider gotten on me? I brushed and wiped and I bemoaned my ill luck until I was confident I was safe from imminent arachnid danger. With a deep sigh, I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the two trees I'd tried walking between. They leered at me, casting their canopies against the sunlight lest it gleam off of a stray spiderweb and betray the trap. I felt my neck prickle and glanced around, suddenly aware of just how many places spiders could be sitting, biding their time, waiting for my misstep into their webs.

"Not today, you bastards," I said, hefting a stick to probe at the space between the trees until I was convinced the way was clear. Then, thankful for the lack of bystanders, I made my way forward with as much dignity as I could muster. As I passed through the trees, I felt a soft humid breath of air run over me, and my entire body tingled. I shuddered and glanced around but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Weird. Perhaps I'd have to reconsider my perspective on this forest only being scary to children.

But a few more minutes of uneventful strolling through the the lush woods had brought back my pleasant mood. The deeper into the trees I went the more I began to recognize glimpses of scenery that was burned into my mind from my traumatic childhood experience. That tiny stream bubbling over the rocks was where I'd slipped and fell. Over there, there a giant fallen tree had watched over me while I'd crouched underneath, sobbing. Ah and that particularly thorny nest of brambles had scratched me up quite thoroughly as I'd bumped into them accidentally. Thorny bastard. I vaguely remembered a strip of my shirt being torn off by the bush. It'd been a good shirt too. A blue superman t-shirt I'd gotten after begging for so long. Those weren't the kind of gifts you'd forget.

I passed by the brambles and froze.

There was a strip of cloth snagged in the bush. A large strip of sky-blue cloth fluttering meekly in the intermittent breeze. I felt a vague sense of deja-vu. Surely this wasn't from my shirt all those years ago, was it? I shook my head. No, of course not. The color would have faded over the decades. Plus, I muddily recalled finding the missing scrap of cloth later. Perhaps this bush was simply nasty to all sorts of wanderers that bumped into it.

And yet I couldn't help but pocket the cloth. I continued forward, remembering that day. After bumping into the brambles I'd stumbled into a particularly wet and muddy patch of ground. I remembered how disgusting the mud had felt squelching through my bare feet. I shivered at the memory of it. I was glad to have my thick walking shoes on this time as I went to step over the same patch of mud…

Footprints. Those were footprints in the mud. Small, like that of a barefoot child. Curious, I bent down and poked a finger at it. These were fresh tracks. Someone had passed this way just a moment ago. I glanced back at the brambles, fingering the piece of cloth I'd stashed in my pocket, and a vague sense of unease began building in my stomach.

I moved forward, now running my eyes more carefully over the surroundings. Yes, I could see it now. There, by the stream that had doubled back on itself I saw another pair of footprints. I'd taken this same path when I was younger. There, by the large splintered tree, faint specks of blood dotted the bottom of its trunk. Like a small child had rested his scratched up back against it for a moment.

The back of my neck prickled again and I strode faster through the forest. This was silly. I'd come to visit this place to laugh at my younger self. Why was I getting so worked up?

Yet my breathing began to get heavier as I retraced the steps I'd taken all those years ago. In the distance I heard a branch snap as if someone had stepped on it, and I picked up my pace even more. I had to know what lay at the end. The stream doubled back yet again to my right, larger and louder in this part of the woods. I strained my ears and over the sound of the gurgling water, rustling leaves, and my heavy footsteps, and I made out the faint whimper of something pitiful. Something tiny. Something scared.

I all but ran the last few steps, whirling around a large stone outcropping that I knew all too well. At its base, huddled and softly crying, was me.

No, not me, per se. But, a young boy that looked just like I had all those years ago. Sitting in the same place that I'd been sitting, and looking just as frightened as I'd felt. He glanced up at my arrival, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and relief. He pushed himself back against the large stone, arms wrapped around himself tightly. Something about this entire situation felt...off. But I shoved those thoughts aside for the moment.

"Here now kid," I said, smiling, "It'll all be okay. Are you lost?"

The boy stared at me for a moment before nodding slightly. His grimy face was streaked with dried tears, and clumps of mud and leaves stuck to him all over his body. I could see scratches around his arms, and legs, and his feet were caked thickly with mud and twigs.

"Well, lucky for you," I said, squatting down, "I know the way out of here. Would you like to get back to your parents?"

The boy nodded, and the tension slowly faded from his body. "I was only playing around," he said in a voice as dry and thin as autumn leaves from all his crying. "I didn't mean to get lost!" He looked up mournfully at me, and I saw fresh tears begin to well up in his eyes. "I bet my parents are angry with me."

"No, no, not at all," I said hurriedly, "they'll be really happy to see you!" The boy didn't look convinced, and his arms moved as if to tighten once more against his body. Bollocks, I didn't know the first thing about handling children. I bet I wasn't this ungrateful when I'd been rescued all those years ago.

I was struck by an idea. I fished out the scrap of cloth I'd found in my pocket and held it towards the boy. "Here," I said brightly, "you lost this bit of your shirt didn't you? I picked it up for you!"

The boy's eyes lit up at its sight and he grabbed it eagerly. Twisting his shirt around he stuck it next to a hole in his t-shirt as if measuring the size. I grinned at his excitement as he tried to see if the patch could be sown back on. I knew what it was like to have a favorite shirt…

My thoughts trailed off as I noticed his shirt. It'd been muddied and stained but now that I looked closer it was unmistakable. That blue shirt. That logo.

"I think it can be fixed," the boy said happily. "Thank you..." He paused and looked at me, concerned. "Sir, are you okay?"

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice sounding hollow to my ears.

The boy hesitated at the tone of my voice. "Percy, sir. Percy Treyve."

I fell backwards, my butt hitting the ground with a thump.

“Sir..." he said uncertainly, "is something wrong? Can we go ho-"

"Your mother," I cut him off hoarsely, "what's your mother's name."

He looked at me strangely. "Maria...sir are you okay?"

I got to my knees, running one hand weakly through my hair. "The year," I said softly, "what year is it. Tell me, and I'll take you home."

"2001, sir."

The rest of the journey out of the woods was a numb one. The kid walked beside me, my hand in his, and he seemed content to chatter on now that it was clear he'd be out of the woods soon. But my head spun. 2001. Percy Treyve. This forest. Me.

Spiderwebs brushed against my face as we approached the outskirts of the forest but it didn't faze me this time. Was I dead? Had I time travelled? I had no idea.

Soon, we were out in the sunshine and I walked the boy over to a red car that I knew would be parked a street away. I waved to the tired looking woman I knew would be standing beside it, talking nervously to one of the neighbors. I watched as she gasped and ran to embrace the boy with tears running down her face. The boy looked equal parts happy and embarrassed from inside her hug, and I felt a smile tug at my lips despite the absurdity of the scenario. Mother had always been quite dramatic.

She finally looked up and smiled at me through her askew glasses, thickly muttering her thanks through her sobbing.

"Please," I found myself saying, "it was nothing. Your son was a brave boy. He practically saved himself."