寂 ( auto ! )

A sharp whistle fills the air. Those of you unfortunate enough to not have woken up, prior to it, are likely stirring now. And if you aren’t, the shrill whistle continues until every last one of you is on your feet. You glance around your surroundings. Three walls are white, empty. Save for the TV and a singular security camera on the back wall, and a door. For the moment, the door remains locked. The fourth wall, the one you’re facing, is a mirror. You can see yourself, as well the people occupying the room with you. Every look of trepidation and anxiety is reflected back to you.

You soon realize that all of your clothes have been replaced. Everyone seems to be wearing similar outfits. A jacket, white t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers. The jacket, shorts, and sneakers, seem to match your favorite color. It’s the only thing that separates your outfit from anyone else’s. Searching the pockets of one’s jacket, you find your cellphone there. You can tell it’s yours, based on the case, phone charms, and how it unlocks with your password. Any other personal belongings and accessories seem to be missing.

A closer look at your phone, you realize that it’s been tampered with. All of your contacts have been wiped and replaced with new ones. Are these the people around you? Your games, pictures, and other settings? Gone. It nearly resembles a factory reset. Emergency contacts are listed as follows: CEO Risette. Manager. Everyone else follows afterward. New applications seem to be loaded on your phone. For some reason, you cannot connect to the internet or make any outgoing calls to anyone not in your contact list.

Before you have time to look through them, the TV pops to life. “Hello trainees~!” a feminine voices rings, filling the silence. Many of you likely recognize her. Top idol Risette. Even if you don’t follow her avidly, she’s been in ads, on billboards, on the radio. Her name’s everywhere, as far as you can remember. “What were you doing? Oversleeping on the first day of practice?” she questions. Her tone seems sweet, carefree. She giggles, grinning. “Disappointing,” her tone seems to drop flat. “Oversleeping is an absolute waste of time. You have adoring fans anticipating your debut. What right do you have to keep them waiting?”

Debut? What is she talking about?

A sharp whistle fills the air. Those of you unfortunate enough to not have woken up, prior to it, are likely stirring now. And if you aren’t, the shrill whistle continues until every last one of you is on your feet. You glance around your surroundings. Three walls are white, empty. Save for the TV and a singular security camera on the back wall, and a door. For the moment, the door remains locked. The fourth wall, the one you’re facing, is a mirror. You can see yourself, as well the people occupying the room with you. Every look of trepidation and anxiety is reflected back to you.

You soon realize that all of your clothes have been replaced. Everyone seems to be wearing similar outfits. A jacket, white t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers. The jacket, shorts, and sneakers, seem to match your favorite color. It’s the only thing that separates your outfit from anyone else’s. Searching the pockets of one’s jacket, you find your cellphone there. You can tell it’s yours, based on the case, phone charms, and how it unlocks with your password. Any other personal belongings and accessories seem to be missing.

A closer look at your phone, you realize that it’s been tampered with. All of your contacts have been wiped and replaced with new ones. Are these the people around you? Your games, pictures, and other settings? Gone. It nearly resembles a factory reset. Emergency contacts are listed as follows: CEO Risette. Manager. Everyone else follows afterward. New applications seem to be loaded on your phone. For some reason, you cannot connect to the internet or make any outgoing calls to anyone not in your contact list.

Before you have time to look through them, the TV pops to life. “Hello trainees~!” a feminine voices rings, filling the silence. Many of you likely recognize her. Top idol Risette. Even if you don’t follow her avidly, she’s been in ads, on billboards, on the radio. Her name’s everywhere, as far as you can remember. “What were you doing? Oversleeping on the first day of practice?” she questions. Her tone seems sweet, carefree. She giggles, grinning. “Disappointing,” her tone seems to drop flat. “Oversleeping is an absolute waste of time. You have adoring fans anticipating your debut. What right do you have to keep them waiting?”

Debut? What is she talking about?

an obsolete word, a Nemophilist is characterized as one who is deeply fond of the forest and its grand beauty and meaningful solitude; a haunter of the woods. 

etymology: Greek ‘nemos’ meaning grove + ‘philos’ meaning affection