I might as well do one of these after being tagged fifteen times. For number 3:
A New World
Many summers ago, I was afraid of the monsters hiding in my closet. I would cry out, “Mother!” She would burst through my door while I had my covers pulled over my head. Through the sheets, I could see her head shake. Even though she knew the answer, she’d walk up beside me and ask, “What’s the matter?” “Monsters are in the closet,” I’d whisper. Then, she’d open the door and reveal, “Only your clothes and toys are in here, my dear. Go back to sleep.” I would.
Now, I was the one who opened my closet’s door, and I was the fool who walked inside. As it turns out, there are in fact monsters, and I have no mother to comfort me except for death herself.
I turn around. There is my closet door. It’s wide open and shimmering, but the opening is shrinking every second at a rate of .0001seconds^3. The golden glow will be gone in more moments.
My partners and fellow creators are scrambling on the other side of the door. I’m surprised Melkavitch was the first to spot my door. His mouth moved so much, but I could not hear his high pitched voice. They drew signs reading, “Hold on” or “We’ll open another”. I shook my head. I can reenter at any moment, but I can’t and won’t.
I waive goodbye. The doorway shrinks like a fist clenching. My mother cries and blows a kiss at me. Then, it is gone, and I will never see them again. Is there where father went? I know it is somewhere here. Hell, it’s why I build this door, but I suppose he’s long since dead. This place is utterly abhorrent.
In hindsight, I should’ve gone somewhere else. No research indicated this world’s effect on my bodily systems, so I was not aware of its dangers. At least my colleagues have this information for future references, for I am quite sure they’ve seen how I changed.
I sit down. Above me are what appear to be clouds. They are without color and their jovial movements. These look more like skeletons. Around me is rock. It’s black with some brown plants. It’s also cold, very cold. My breath turns to white which is rather fascinating yet horrifying as well.
I look at my skin. It has faded from its normal luster into a pale shadow of its former magnificence. My mom always used to say how she’s glad I inherited her skin instead of my dad’s. Ironically, I believe I did receive his considering our fates.
Is there life on this place? Do the people have a name, or am I the sole being here?
The rumbling commences again. This is the fifth time already. Black snow comes out of the odd mountain in accompaniment to the rumbling. I stand and hike down the hill away from this area.
My feet are pierced by the rocks below my feet. I cry as I leave red footprints behind. Would my feet ever heal if given enough time? I have no clue, but I move onwards. The snow falls onto my shoulders and the ground around, yet it is not cold. I brush it off and cough.
I force my mind to wander. I cannot stand this evil place… I wish my father was with me. My mother cried for days after we lost him. She refused to name the place where he was lost. Half the knowledge was with him, so we had no way of reaching him. Well, that was until I became the other half of the key and convinced my mother to help.
I finished last night. My heart was racing, and my judgment became clouded. I powered the door and stepped through. Despite the terror of this world that I say, I called out, “Father!” There was no reply. I was going to step back in, for I wanted to give myself more than enough time before the formula ran out. I stopped myself, for my skin faded. I was… I am infected by this world. I cannot let this infection pass into my world on the other side of the door. From now on, I will be with the monsters in my closet.
I reach the bottom. The brown corpses of trees stand around me. They are without their warmth that I loved so much.
I sit down again and wipe the tears from my face.
I scream and cover my ears. Pain, so much pain. I cannot describe the sound, but it brings pain. I look up. Black birds fly and make the sound. I convulse on the ground and foam at the mouth. I see the birds fly away.
I feel my forehead. When I take my hand away, it is covered in blood. My feet are still bleeding, and I o not think this will stop.
Fluttering, I hear fluttering. I look to my left, and one of the birds lands on a tree. It looks down at me.
“Please!” I beg, “Please spare me from your torture. I cannot stand the sound.” It says nothing in reply. Its soulless eyes stare back at me.
It opens its mouth and makes the sound. I shriek in pain. My head feels as though it exploded, and my vision darkens. Here’s how I’ll meet my end I suppose. Oh, I was such a waste of potential.
I look up. The black demon flies away. Over me stands my father. His skin no longer shines and his eyes no longer sparkle, but his arm it outstretched. I reach out and grasp his hand. He smiles.
“Am I dead?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“What was that creature?”
“You’ll adjust to the crowing like I and the others. You’ll adjust to everything.”
“Others?”
“Yes, welcome to your new home, Terra.”
