You just woke up here (a forest in autumn). There’s a note in your pocket.
My head was pounding, and my brain was trying to escape the confines of my skull. I groaned as I blinked at the sunlight streaming through the autumn canopy of a forest. Out of the blue, my mouth filled with saliva and I felt a heave begin at the base of my stomach. I barely managed to roll to my side as the remnants of my last meal came spewing out of my mouth and onto the fallen leaves. It was no longer recognisable, and the smell almost made me heave again. I spat the rest of the bile out of my mouth, and sat up to get away from the stench of stomach acid and digested food.
The trees, and their brilliantly coloured red, gold, and bronze leaves, were unfamiliar to me. I frowned, trying to remember if there could possibly be any forests near my home town I could have made my way to in a drunken state.
I stood up and patted my pockets for my phone. Nothing. I looked around, feeling dismayed, but still hoping to find my phone on the ground. I saw no phone, only a small piece of paper, stark on the vividly coloured, leaf littered ground. I picked it up, feeling curious.
Inside, a familiar scrawl informed me of my predicament.
“Ooops, sorry. Time machine messed up again.”
“Stupid idiot,” I snarled, continuing the sentence with a stream of other, far worse accusations at my friend, who was far from able to defend himself, due to being absent.
I chose a direction at random and began trudging through the undergrowth, hoping to find some sort of civilisation.