The wonderful melody was wafting brightly behind Jonas as his tunic flocked behind him heavily against the wind. The speed was piercing his face as fire; his mind was becoming lightheaded, loosing what seemed all of his memories from childhood, being refilled by the real. The hill was becoming steeper -- the house seemed further away -- a chilled, limp body lay heavily against his chest. Snowflakes were whirling with him, the cold becoming more severe. Patches of snow were developing into hard, iced spaces, as bluish color.
The runners skittered sideways and the sled gathered speed. Jonas pulled to rope in hopes of steering, but the speed took control and began to spin him wildly, fright sanctioning him, the mercy of the acceleration downwards, faster.
Sideways, the sled hit a ditched, throwing him and the sled violently into the air, falling onto a hard rock, crashing his head with his leg snapping under him. His face was scraped; scalp parted and bleeding severely. The body with his was under him; atop the rock with Jonas over him -- there was one last scramble of its body before it fell motionless, as it had lost life.
Tears were building inside his eyes; pain overcoming him in agony, each nerve as excruciating steel, flames licking the tender flesh among his uncovered areas. In front of him, the gloomy atmosphere was spinning, blood erupting from his throat as he blacked out into his own world, away from the coldness and distress; mere ecstasy covered him.
He heard a flutter of wings echoing inside him; daubs dripping. A thunder roared -- shaking him madly as he preached open his eyes, screaming fully, startled and shaken with beads of sweat rippling off the tips of his hair. He crawled out of the bed in which he seemed to have been laid, with adrenaline rushing through his veins, his body searing in extreme agony. His footsteps left trials of blood mysteriously behind him as he trembled over towards a mirror on the inside of a door, where almost fainting from what he saw. His body was pale white, covered in parted rivers of blood; his pajamas stained and drenched from sweat -- but how?
Jonas stared more into the mirror, seeing the details if his pelt: waterlogged and scaled. He moved closer; unable to move back, and saw his reflection; but his eyes glared yellow, and his hair was a frightening silver -- something he had never seen before. The mirror was pulling him in, his nose making contact with the mirror as a metallic substance. It started to cover his body, every inch before finally shoving into his mouth -- into his autonomy. He muffled a shrill, unable to make any sound. Burns piercing his skin as the mirror pulled him though. The doorway was shifting, as he fell harshly unto the ground of a different space.
He stood, searching the room -- but saw nothing. It was just blank; clear with the sound of hard pounding echoing across the oasis of white. He focused around, examining the area, as time went by; nothing coming.
The pounding was becoming harder soon, the room fading slowly to a grey; unnerving like ice. He looked ghostly now, only recognizable as a shivering image transparent; unable to touch. The noise was severe and he was beginning to wince at each clatter of pulsation. The room was dark now, scattered with resembled stars in the night sky -- they shimmered beautifully, bringing pall to his back before the lights began to be covered in a grey darkness once again. Everything flashed and was gone. Only he stood in the dissolving surroundings, for it was blank again.
Pain filled him as he shivered slightly, his legs about to collapse. Quickly, he rested down in an uncomfortable position on the unseen floor as, what seemed, portraits began to materialize midair in the haven, multiplying quickly upon the infinite vicinity in wonders.
Jonas stood slowly, regaining his balance, examining them all appearing to be reminiscences of his life. Everything was there; every moment in his life pulled back from the memory in his head. He saw it all: everything that was burned inside him.
He spent a numerous amount of time retrieving all images; the renderings flashing and disappearing when he was finished with them. Shrills would come; the screeching spreading unto the hairs of his back, until he too, screamed out of fear in duet, echoing across the room unheard. He was alone again, wishing someone was here to comfort him. To keep him temperate.
His skin was shriveling up, scaling as like the skin he had seen once. It smelt molted and waterlogged; making his stomach lurch from the disgusting smell vomiting over the unseen floor, clearing immediately as it had never happened. He couldn't forget. He sat down; wet in blood and cold in fury, a thought breaking into his mind: it still continued, as he fell.
Jonas woke lying on the floor in an old damp room. He stood, browsing the room for an exit; expecting it, but nothing was there. Just a chair centered in the room, wooden and scratched, with some of its white paint missing.
His body's blood had dried, resembling burns that coated his skin -- he staggered towards it, running his hand across the back beginning to hover. Brightening the room as it shattered in to millions of shreds, making him lightheaded and faint. He scowled as the radiance dilated his irises, the wind pushing against a light cracked in the becoming doorway. He tried to pull back, but it was no use; he had disappeared, falling into its icy depths of darkness.
He could breathe, but could not see or feel, falling deeper. The speed unbearable as the wind howled past him, his hair sagging back from his skull. Black and white flashes appeared into him; the memories burned inside him were becoming real, more detailed and vivid; dancing lights appearing through them.
He flashed his eyes open, and saw it. The heat impending him; more sweat trickling down his face, mixing with the blood. The room was becoming brighter. The light as the doorway materializing. Something winded behind him when a hurtle came, every bone in his body splintering in severity. He couldn't feel anymore. He was destroyed, dissolving, his bones like hot wires sweltering within him. Everything seemed blurred, pain filling his mind as he blacked out. Floating in the midst of might; lost in thought.
The beating of his heart still remained; pounding loudly within the silence. What was this? The thoughts of him seeped though his mind; shivering him slightly as he wondered upon.
Before much more -- Jonas whipped open his eyes; glancing startled at the woman standing over him, holding the blonde child: Gabe.
Strength filled him again as he shouted out the name with no response, the baby still remaining still and comforted, in the little pillow, not even moving. The girl giggled slightly, and walked backwards into the ring of lightness in the black, searching vividly behind her at Jonas. Her bright blue eyes were breathtaking; the insipid skin of her radiantly glowing of her slender body. Before she disappeared, she was able to articulate:
"The strongest piece at the heart of these memories is of all, love. Everything owes its life, and evil as its downfall, to an act of mere self sacrifice. No matter how unreal some of the conventions of the arts might be, the human issues portrayed are those of actual human experience. Our excursions into the imagined world of arts replies as not an escape from reality, but a journey into reality. Pictures tell of their own moral, for the moral influences of inheritance, rise from whichever spiritual roots succeeded in a lifetime. Morals however, remote unto platitude, even falsehood, skinned from the surface of consciousness. The only moral that is of any value is that of which arises inevitably from ones mind; into love. Follow me forever, and you shall live within yourself."
The pain wasn't anything of that he had felt before -- still inside him as he creaked his mouth mystified, with a trail of colors before him, like brightened fog. Jonas was trembling with fright as he buckled to the floor, heaving the silver liquids out of him before his lethargic body.
Curiosity was forming him - as a beautiful emerald stone emerged in his hand, returning courage to himself. Without a look back, he shot out in a sprint into the ongoing haze of pigments, unaware of the happenings as the time flashed behind him, but he still ran; slowing down greatly with a stitch at his side, colors designing in front of him of which were never seen. It was unexplainable and exhilarating. He closed his eyes in determination to cross forever, even though he had no reason to lose the world he was born. The nagging was developing, manipulating him with sheer conscious. He awaited for the doorway:
For as the legend goes, the two actual wonders of the humanity reform as the gateways between lives--into the two dimensions separating the world of Sameness and Elsewhere. The entryway is thought of an indiscernible object -- never brought to mind in either elements; though it had once been opened before, only to find himself trapped within the vortexes for eternity, perched inside with his ashes amidst.
The article that opened the connection was purely constructed of a meteor's flame and a coal from the depths of hell, below the soils in the world, where smoldering minerals reside. Once sculpted, it forms a burn of Jungle Green, the glow nearly blinding the beholder, reflecting brightly. The shimmering piece has the power to control anything in both cosmoses, for the one who has the control, dwells the most powerful of any spirit ever created. Jonas was dedicated as the receiver, following female. He could hear a name being called; hollowing disconsolately as Rosemary.