At last I emerged from that cursed forest, only to find myself in another unfamiliar place. I had indeed reached the school grounds, but the uneasy feeling in my stomach was still present. I thought the anxiety of the trip would wane once I escaped between the trees, but it appears I still have more to worry about.

I stepped closer to the building. Surely there would be a head office or a faculty member that could offer an explanation about why I was here, but I wanted to see if others could interact with me. Most of the people I encountered kept their gaze forward, while others stared at glowing devices in their hands. If I was truly a ghost they wouldn't be able to see me. That's how it worked in old cartoons and bedtime stories, right? I tried getting a students attention, but they stepped around me and continued, as if in a rush, and I was left pondering if they'd avoided me on purpose or if I truly was invisible.

The crinkle of paper made me turn my head. Someone was sitting on a ornate bench just in front of the largest building, flipping through a book. It reminded me of the schedule in my pocket, which I feverishly dug out once more. If I was going to attend one of these classes, I would need to know what time it was. My gaze drifted to the sky. The sun was midway in the sky, suggesting the time was nearing afternoon. I hoped I was right. The half-soaked schedule was stuffed back into my pants as I continued on my way into the largest building.

There was no point thinking about making it to class when I didn't even know where I was. Find someone to help, then worry about class. That is, if I can find someone that can see me.

Dozens of trees hung above me, the leaves almost mocking my cowardice as I passed beneath them.

Their branches stretched high above the path carved in the dirt, yet somehow felt like they hovered inches over my head. It was suffocating and strange. The sun was high in the sky when I’d left the lighthouse, but there was so much foliage between the sky and my feet that barely any light came through. If I was a tad more comfortable this place would be beautiful. Glowing lichen dressed the boulders all around me, and small skittering creatures darted from bush to bush. As beautiful as it was, I needed to leave.

It felt like I’d been stuck here for hours, but the amount of light reaching me from the sun never wavered. As I rounded a corner I felt my stomach drop. Ahead of me was another winding forest path, but I couldn’t see the end. I started to feel claustrophobic. There were too many trees; there was no way I was getting out of here.

Once again I tried to steady myself. If I kept pushing on I would reach the school grounds, it only made sense. Why would they have a path through these woods if no one was supposed to use it? I steeled myself. Took a couple deep breaths. Then continued on my way through the trees.

I felt like I was making progress on my mystery, but I wasn't liking the conclusion being painted.

I searched the drawers in my room for something to help me communicate to a higher-up in the school and came up empty handed. The crumpled schedule on the desk just a few feet away from me seemed to be my best bet. I smoothed a few of the wrinkles before remembering that was a bad idea, then scowled as the ink once again began to run as it mixed with seawater from my palms. I could just make out the words, "8 AM Monday through Friday, Corporeal Studies I." I've heard of math and science, but what the hell was corporeal studies?

I was starting to give up hope. I had no way of knowing what day of the week it was, meaning I couldn't follow the schedule even if I wanted to. I pushed the paper away from me and moved to the still open window, sticking my head out and leaning as far as I could while balancing on the windowsill.

Just past the lighthouse was a dense forest, and beyond that looked like a schoolyard with an elegant brick and stone building behind it. If I had to guess, that's where my classes were supposed to be.

In order to get there, I'd have to pass through the woods. My stomach felt odd as I studied the cluster of trees, almost as if the thought of approaching them made me sick. But they were just trees, there was nothing there that could hurt me. I ducked back into the window and made my way back to the desk. The schedule was folded as quickly as possible to keep it semi-dry, then stuffed back into my pocket.

I didn't have any other possessions, so there was nothing else to grab. It would just be me against the trees. I stepped out of my room and shut the door behind me.

I woke up to a strange pressure on my ribs. I shifted and rolled over, trying to dislodge whatever was on me, and felt a jolt of pain as six sharp points dug into my skin.

I shouted in pain and rolled back over, then opened my eyes and glared at whatever had attacked me. It was that damn cat again, it was sitting on me with wide, tired eyes. It must have dug it's claws into me when I tried to shake it off.

"The hell do you want?" I mumbled, salt water spilling from my lips and further saturating the pillow beneath me.

The thing didn't answer. It just sat on top of me and stared. I glanced behind me and saw my window was open. That would explain how it got in, anyway. I started to sit up, this time picking up the cat and holding it against my body so it didn't feel the need to latch on. It just kept staring at me, silent as sand, as I stood from the bed and placed it on the ground. His eyes were still wide. "you're like me," they said, "you're like me."

The carpet had started to dry a bit, but the puddle under my chair was still very pronounced. How long had I been asleep?

"Mew," the cat let out a low and quick chirp. I turned to look at it. We stared at each other for a couple seconds before it stood and walked over to the window, sitting down again. I stepped over and lifted it to the windowsill, where it climbed out of my arms and gently hopped into the grass. It looked over it's shoulder as if thanking me and walked away.

As odd as that cat was, it was sort of comforting having it around.

The first few pages of the booklet were little help. At least I was able to confirm that this was, in fact, a school. I searched for anything that could tell me about how I got here, but the only clue was a small paragraph on the side of the page that mentioned the school sometimes picked people to enroll on it's own. So I guess the school decided I needed to be here.

It wasn't until I moved to the paranormal section that things finally started to make sense. My eyes washed over the page, not really reading so much as skimming for any information that popped out at me. A paragraph about memory loss gave me pause.

"Students who arrived here directly from a past life may experience symptoms related to the sudden change. Some common ones include memory loss, confusion, and the inability or limited ability to interact with physical objects. In some cases, the only part of the student's past life to cross over is their soul. This leads to what is commonly known as a lost spirit, or in laymen terms a ghost."

That would explain the pen thing. This was all a bit too confusing, had I really come from another life, just to wake up in a high school? As outlandish as it sounded, it was the only answer I had.

My gaze swept over the rest of the page and turned to the next one. Nothing else in the pamphlet connected with me as much as the paragraph about arriving from a past life. My thoughts swam with anxiety over the last word, "ghost." I thought about the pen, how I'd dropped it more than once. Difficulty interacting with physical objects, that applied to me. But I was able to open doors, I was able to feel the ocean against my feet, so I could interact with most things. I couldn't let one piece of evidence invade my brain and cause me to jump to conclusions. There was no way I was dead, I couldn't be dead before I even figured out who I was.

I needed to rest. I closed the booklet and felt sick to my stomach. The bed sat as a welcoming spot to lay my head, so I did just that. I knew the sheets would get wet, but I didn't care. I was stressed and exhausted, and I just wanted to rest.

My room is, unsurprisingly, empty, save for a bed in the corner and a desk against the wall. The once clean sheets were wrinkled thanks to my frantic movements when I first woke up, and although I'd been gone from the room for a good hour or two, the bed was still wet with sea water. I glanced down and noticed a small puddle collecting below me. At no point had I stopped dripping.

I made my way over to the desk and pull out the chair, studying it. Nothing out of the ordinary. I sit down. Nothing strange. I laughed at myself for being suspicious over a chair. My nerves were getting the best of me again.

I took out a piece of paper and a pen from the desk, then began to write. I was going to make a list of everything I remembered and everything I'd like to discover.

1. I came here after touching a bright light.
2. Wherever I came from, I was wrapped in burlap.
3. The only familiar thing so far has been the cat and the ocean.
4. I'm leaking seawater even though I appear to be dry.

After pausing for a moment, I bring the pen back to the paper.

5. My name is Sailor.

Now for the list of things I needed to figure out. I didn't even bother to number them, as there were too many to count;

Where was I? Who was I? Why did I wake up here? Why did the ocean seem so comforting, but at the same time fill me with dread as soon as I touched it? Who was that cat? Why was the cat familiar to me? Did I have to follow the schedule in my pocket, and how did it show up without me noticing?

I was forced to stop when the pen fell out of my hand. I tried to catch it thinking I'd somehow dropped it, but I missed. It clattered to the ground and rolled a couple inches before coming to a halt. I stooped to pick it up, then froze.

The pen had landed in the puddle of water beneath me, but it wasn't wet. Confused, I went to pick it up. Just as before I was able to hold it for maybe half a minute, then it tumbled out of my grip and bounced on the ground.

It was completely unaffected by the salt water. When I reached down to touch the I could feel the cold seep into my fingertips, so why wasn't this affected? I stood up. The chair beneath me had been soaked, just as the bed had been, and just as the floors were when I walked over them. What was so different about the pen?

There was a flutter of paper that made me jump. I looked over and noticed a small booklet on the bed. I rushed over and picked it up before it got too wet, then realized it would probably be safer on the desk than in my hands. The front of the book read "Welcome to Psy High!" with smaller text beneath it stating "Introduction." I felt a glimmer of hope that maybe this thing would have some answers.

After everything that happened, I decided to go back to my room. The sea may have once comforted me, but it now sat as a grim reminder of that tugging, choking feeling. I had gained a few answers, but overall I still felt lost.

The lighthouse welcomed me, the door opening before I even touched the handle. When I stepped back inside, I was calm enough to take in more of the main room.

The bottom of the towering lighthouse made up the large circular chamber, and there was an archway leading to the long building attached to it. This room was home to all the eerie portraits and class photos. Despite the dates being set in the future, I had little trouble believing they were graduation photos.

I took a moment to catch my breath, then returned to the hallway that I had once chased the cat. It was much more inviting now that I wasn't as squeamish, and the morning sun that had started to rise was dripping in through the windows rather serenely. There were more rooms the further I went, some with names, some without. I reached one who's door was still ajar from when I'd come sneaking out of it. The name on the door said "Sailor." So I guess that's what I'm called.

The sea. Of course it was the sea, no other force of nature could replicate that sound. The waves invaded the sand, then retreated again. I watched this cycle for longer than I should have before stepping forward and dipping my toes into the water.

Instantly, there was a connection. It felt like something seized my lungs, and it continued to squeeze until I was certain it would kill me. My face surely started to change shades as I was deprived of oxygen, and no matter how hard I beat at my chest there was no relief. It wasn't until my vision started to fade and I fell back onto the beach that the pressure finally dissipated. I remember the first deep breath I took, desperately trying to fill my body with as much air as possible, before pushing it out and sucking in another fresh breath.

I remembered now. The reason I couldn't see the light that brought me here was because I was in a sack. I don't know what kind, it was too dark in the brief memory to tell, but there were distinct, thick fibers separating me from the strange light.

But most importantly, I think, was that while I was trapped in this bag I was submerged in water.

The lighthouse was grand, and massive. The iconic gray bricks towered over the sand in front of me, topped of course by the spinning, powerful light. Attached to the side of the lighthouse was a long house made up of the same material. That must have been the home of the room I'd woken up in.

The cat issue was abandoned as I studied the outside of the building, feverishly searching for some kind of clue. A name, an address, anything. But the walls were free of everything but moss, and the door was clean of everything but rust. I was just as lost as I was before.

I turned around and heard the familiar sound of shifting paper in my pocket. I immediately dug the folded sheet out of my pants and opened it, scanning the contents. Another schedule, I'd assume identical to the one I had before. I ran my eyes across the top of the page. "Psy High." What on earth did that mean? Was this some sort of school? Was I the victim of an out-of-pocket initiation? If that was the case, why couldn't I remember where I came from before waking up in that damned room?

I paused. Panic would be my enemy if I let it take over. I needed to find something familiar, I needed to get my memories back.

The crashing sound came to mind, and I strained my ears to listen. Yes, it was familiar, but I couldn't quite recall what was making it. I stepped away from the lighthouse and moved further into the sand. Step one was finding the source of the noise. Step two was yet to be determined.

"Miaow, mia-ow," the old thing almost sobbed at me, it's frail whiskers shaking as it did. I walked over to where he had stopped in front of a door. I had come this far, it would be stupid of me to ignore it, so I grabbed the handle and yanked the door free from it's frame.

The cat disappeared through the crack the moment light entered it, leaving me to blink at the soft moonlight and gently creep out behind it. There was a loud, crashing sound that repeated itself every few seconds. It tugged at my gut and left a sore feeling in my knees. Where had I heard that before?

The bouncing shape of the cat was just a few yards ahead of me. I started to follow it, then froze in place as the area around me suddenly lit up. It was as if a spotlight had found me as it swept over the ground, illuminating everything with enough power to fake sunlight. Then it was gone, just as quickly as it washed over me it moved to the next piece of land and continued on it's way. I turned around and spotted the source. I had just stepped out of a lighthouse.