I've been having these weird thoughts lately
Like is any of this for real or not?
Thump Thump. Thump Thump. Thump Thump.
He could hear his delicate heartbeat pounding inside his chest. His white-gloved hands grasped his red shirt, and a breath escaped his lips as his cobalt-blue eyes flashed open. He couldn't see anything but the moist black velvet-like appearance of darkness. He saw the smallest glimmer of light, which gave the appearance of being underwater. He felt like he was underwater, an unmistakable notice. He couldn't breathe properly, and when he exhaled, bubbles would form and float upward.
His limp, young body was picking up speed, and he knew that he was sinking. He allowed himself to twist and turn, to sink helplessly like a rag doll. He suddenly thought of his two best friends, a boy with silver hair and a girl with red hair. Those thoughts interrupted his consciousness and train of thought, it caused him to believe he was home, but the events were dreamlike, so how could he even be awake? After a long strand of thoughts, his eyes slit and the rich blue pupils scanned the darkness. He found it hard to open his eyes, and his legs allowed him to land, or otherwise anchor himself on a moist, hard surface.
He looked down at his golden shoes, the black and white designs on its top particularly, and he stared at the dark, but yet somehow gleaming floor. He was troubled as he looked around at his vast, blank atmosphere. He took one step forward, without giving thought of what would occur. As he stepped forward, he felt odd, and he looked down once again at that familiar golden shoe to see something illuminating underneath his body. He shielded his eyes with his hands as the ground illuminated fiercely and white doves took off from the platform he stood on.
He stared up at the beautiful creatures taking flight, leaving him lonesome on the platform. He felt the aura of something, but he couldn't tell if it was good or evil, but it was something tangible. He glanced back down at the floor he was standing on, and it was a church-glass platform, illuminating in greens and yellows with Snow White and the seven dwarves engraved into its smooth, sharp texture. He had the feeling he was being watched, after all, why was he here on a platform after sinking deep into a water-like atmosphere?
He turned around, and felt his heart racing again. He could feel the blood rush to his head, and irritate his eyes. He put his white-gloved hand on his red shirt again, grasping where his heart should be. He looked up at the mysterious atmosphere, and felt the convincing aura of the persuasion of evil, but he wasn't sure. He expected something to happen, but he blankly stood on the platform curious, and often looking down at its pretty, awesome design. Finally, something happened, when he turned around. He was being induced into something evil, he thought.
So much to do…
He remained amazingly placid to hear the deep, strange voice.
… So little time.
His spiky, brown bangs blew in his face, indicating that there was some sort of draft or wind. He waited patiently for the words to complete their full purpose and meaning.
Take your time.
Don't be afraid.
He wasn't afraid, but now he knew he had to complete something that took time.
The door is still shut.
He pondered at that last sentence, and suddenly froze -- he was being tricked!
Now, step forward. Can you do it?
His left was frozen cold and stiff, but he managed to cautiously walk across the platform, unaware of what was going on. He felt that his death was imminent, because he wasn't sure if he would elude the mysterious voice, make it out alive, or get any benefits from this. He prayed and hoped that it was just a dream. He slowly walked across the platform. Suddenly, he felt it vibrate… so it must be a trick! He spun around, prepared for a fistfight, but all he saw was a trapezoid-shaped pillar raise from the foreground, and with a twinkle of light, a weapon appear. This occurred three times, and with each weapon's appearance, he heard the voice again…
Power has awakened within you.
If you give it form…
It will give you strength.
He stared at the pillars, seeing a sword, a shield, and a staff. His immature, naïve glance soon turned to a serious, concentrated glare.
Choose well.
He heard a brief, but clear and well-explained description of each weapon he held dearly in his hands, knowing its precious meaning and its promise. Each time he held one in his hands, he stared up at the moist black velvet appearance of tangible darkness that seemed evil, but yet welcoming because it made him want to fall into an eternal sleep. He listened carefully and alertly to hear and receive the correct message per weapon. For the red, decorated and embroidered shield that bore a black Mickey Mouse symbol, he heard…
The power of the guardian. Kindness to aid friends. A shield to repel all.
For the courageous sword with a golden handle decorated in the finest jewels and a brilliant silver blade, he heard…
The power of the warrior. Invincible courage. A sword of terrible destruction.
For the mysterious staff with a gleaming handle and a Mickey Mouse decoration in which to cast spells with, he heard…
The power of the mystic. Inner strength. A staff of wonder and ruin.
He came to conclusions, and chose the most valuable weapon to himself. He possessed the kindness of the guardian, the invincible courage of the warrior, and the inner strength of the mystic, but when he chose to wield a weapon, he always chose the sword, for it was the strongest, and to him, strength governed and ruled all forces. He chose the path, and knew it probably provided some sort of test, so he silently waited.
Is this the power you seek?
Yes. He couldn't speak! He could only think, and words couldn't be produced by the constant, meaningless vibrations in his throat. He tried to choke out a scream, but it was pointless. He could only think, but when he thought, he heard his own voice, when he tried to think of words. The real challenge was about to begin.
Your path is set.
The weapon he wielded disappeared with the brilliant flash of a light, and with a face of awestruck astonishment and wonder, he smiled as if he was excessively impressed, and still standing on the pillar of the sword, he turned around to face the other two glowing weapons, and knew that something strange was going to become of those two destinies he didn't choose.
Now, what will you give up in exchange?
The toughest quiz in the book: he had all three traits, but now he had to choose to give up the power of magic or defense. He knew that he didn't quite need defense, but he lacked magic anyway. He wanted to learn the mysterious spells and sorcerer's tricks of the mystic; he didn't quite care for the gallant powers of the shield… he had enough with armor. He stood on the shield's pillar, and hoped that he wouldn't upset anyone with his decision. He held the shield in his hands to hear the well, laid-out description of the weapon he held.
You give up this power?
Yes. He only had to think, because he wasn't able to talk. He was a mute temporarily, he convinced himself. It probably was a dream, but it felt far too realistic. He patiently waited to see if the platform would crush and kill him, or something vague or violent would happen, perhaps. He waited for a silent or powerful death. He recoiled his body slightly at the thought, and opened his cobalt-blue eyes once again to stare at the green and golden tints of the atmospheric aura of the Snow White platform.
You've chosen the power of the warrior. You've given up the power of the guardian. Is this the form you choose?
Yes. he mutely replied, nodding his head, and his brown spiky hair brushed against his face again due to the chill of wind. The trapezoid stones disappear, and when they did, his instant reaction was Oh no! The pillar he stood on collapsed, and as did the other two. He stood on the platform with his heart about to explode from fright. He placed his white-gloved hand once again on the red shirt, but this time, grasping the silver-chained necklace with a crown pendant in his hand. The ground that was simply vibrating intensified into a frenzy of violent shaking. He saw the edges of the round platform collapsing from west and east, heading toward him at the centre. He waited for his terrible doom, and the floor beneath him collapsed surely.
He fell, picking up speed again, and he was falling quicker than the shattered glass. He shielded his eyes in fear that the glass would cut them. He was unable to shield any delicate skin, and sighed at this thought. Finally, the glass had disappeared, and he wondered if the darkness had engulfed them or something. He felt that he was going to softly land, because he had slowed down. He looked down to see a dimly illuminated platform of Cinderella that glowed in soft blues and occasional turquoises and blue-greens. It was unlike the bright, vibrant colors of the Snow White platform, because it was dim, clear, and a more calm setting of Cinderella.
He did indeed land softly on the platform, and he wondered how he would exit off this one now that he had fallen even further. Was there even an end to these series of platforms? Was there even a floor or was this the so-called bottomless pit? Was this an omen or something cryptic? Nobody knew. He held out his right hand and expected something to happen, as he often would, because he was smart. The sword appeared in the blink of an eye, which slightly startled the 14-year-old boy. He saw that it was floating, and he grabbed it out of the air.
You have gained the power to fight.
When he heard the word 'fight', he swung the sword for a test-swing to see if it qualified to his taste. It was rather light, and swung easily, much like his preference, because it was also very powerful and piercing. He smiled at this thought, and held it to his adjustment and capability. He looked around cautiously, because why would he be asked to fight if there was nothing to fight? Heedless of the danger, he ran to the centre of the platform, causing himself to be a visible, easy, moving target. He did an attack movement as a sample to perform and prove to the mysterious voice that he could fight. After he swung the sword, he cautiously peered around the blue aura as he did earlier.
All right! You've got it. Use this power to protect yourself and others.
This made him feel relieved -- maybe too relieved. He lost the tensing of his shoulders, the stiffness of his legs, and hung loose. He was now easy to hit because he was more relaxed. Suddenly, he noticed that he was too careless, too heedless! Fortitude was the key to survival here, because he was required to face the difficulty, adversity, danger, or temptation courageously. He repeated that word again, 'courageously', he mentally noted to himself. He had to have courage! That was all that mattered, and all he needed to accomplish the odd, dreamlike mission.
There will be times you have to fight.
That was very unfortunate, but he was prepared, thankfully. He was ready for a gruesome, horrid, violent battle, but he doubted it would be one. Suddenly, before he could think, black shadows rose from the dim platform. The other one was vibrant because it was the chance of life, but this one was dim because he had to battle, to face a war! Innumerable shadows dotted the platform, and their existence was interminable. He sighed with fury and agitation, as he readied his weapon, but of course, he was worried. Oh, he was terrified! How could he promise himself that he would make it out alive? Once again… negative thoughts. Stop the negative thoughts, he mentally noted. He had the courage, he possessed the inner strength and kindness. He gave that brave, long awaited smile that meant that he could do anything.
Keep your light burning strong.
And that he would. With one ferocious swing, he knocked one shadow unconscious. Their ability was to leap, and strike mercilessly with their long, painful pricking claws. Their eyes glowed golden, and they were tagged with a symbol that could be easily read. It was a symbol of a heart with an X mark on it, meaning they didn't have a heart? He was thinking too much, because one shadow jumped at his chest, and its claws dug deep, trying to get his heart. No! he thought, I won't die!
Infernal shadows! he mentally shouted, and performed three swings that were displayed in a chain-sequence. The first swing was much like a normal strike with his sword; the second swing caused him to do a stabbing motion; and the third, and final swing, caused him to turn around, gripping tightly to the sword's handle, and after the 360 degree turn was complete, from all the friction the sword gained by the spin, he struck the shadow with such force, that it caused it to evaporate to ashes. He gasped at his amazing strength, and the audience of shadows sunk into the platform, disappearing with fear.
He thought that he had won a victorious battle, and he knew that this was probably a test to gain some sort of honor or dignity. He pondered once again, losing track of time and place, so when that shadow snuck up behind him, if it wasn't for that voice, he would've died. He was too preoccupied to notice anything whenever he deeply thought.
Behind you!
He gasped, knowing that it was no time for thinking he was complete with a mission when he wasn't. He spun around, and pinned that shadow to the floor. Knocking it around constantly until it disappeared. He sighed with relief as the shadow was mere black dust, blowing away with the breeze. He knew its true substance, and it proved that evil was tangible, and that darkness was able to be touched. These beings were created of pure darkness and evil itself. He gasped, and mentally prepared himself to fight more of those little monsters.
He did indeed end up defeating a whole gamut of shadows, striking at them, ruthlessly shattering them to dust, and evaporating them into broken down atoms and cells of their original self. He sighed with relief after he had defeated the entire bunch, but he heard a twitch of an antenna, and turned around to see one shadow flicking around its antenna, prepared for a fight. He was bigger than they were, and they were like little black toys. He laughed at it, because it looked so harmless. Suddenly, it sunk into the platform, causing a huge black void of gravity, and it was trying to pull him inside. The centre was a nucleus of sorts, and it performed as a black hole. He wouldn't be able to escape its evil pull, and he knew it, since the entire platform was now gone, and sucked up into the darkness. He, too, eventually was pulled in, and he couldn't breathe in the darkness. Darkness was a matter that clogged his breath because he was breathing in a substance that was worse than smoke and was ten times more harmful. He was being suffocated! He fought, he kicked, and he made a huge fuss. He felt the act of lethargy take over his body, for he was drowsy and dull, listless and unenergetic, indifferent and lazy, apathetic and sluggish. The darkness was poisonous to him, a potent sedative or anesthetic, practically, because within seconds he was almost in comatose state.
He suddenly noticed that he could breathe again, and his arms automatically seemed to grab onto the cold, glass floor of yet another platform. He tried to catch his breath, and he coughed out the strange, thick clouds of gas and dust -- darkness. He saw that this platform was colorful with pink and white designs, and imprinted on its texture were seven large hearts portraying seven women, but one of them looked especially familiar with a thin, 14-year-old figure. He was pondering at the blend of multiple colors that he didn't take notice of the blatant door that was curved delicately with beautiful designs that consisted of curves, flowers, feathers, hearts, and other delightful necessities. It took him a while of thinking before he noticed it, and he instantly ran up to it.
He tried to touch the silky, smooth texture to the door, and his thin fingers were pondering and wondering what that charming door felt like. He felt nothing; his hand passed through the door. A hologram. he thought of at first, but then other things popped into his mind. Although he did come to one conclusion.
I can't open it…
He heard his voice but he didn't say anything, but it was true: the conclusion was that it was impossible to open. He turned around and looked up accusingly at the dark sky as if to say, 'ok, voice, now what happens? I'm waiting…' Almost immediately, a dim light shone down as if the heavens were to save him. He had some hope, but instead, the bright light was producing an object. He ran to the light and there was a treasure chest, it was beautifully designed just as the door was, and just as the platform was. He ran his fingers over the chest, imagining that it was exactly what the door felt like. He smiled, because it was a wonderful feeling, very smooth, very bright, and it was the presence of good. The message of the voice, whoever he was, was inscrutable because now he was playing mind games rather than giving verbal instructions like earlier. He hoped that the voice would at least insinuatingly help him with the remainder of this so-called 'mission'.
He saw that the chest was locked… Man! he thought, almost urged to swear to himself. He then saw his sword and had the idea that if he tapped the chest, it'd magically open, just like in fairytales. He gave it a shot, and surprisingly and unexpectedly, it worked. The chest flew open and light flowed out of it, and the rays slowly faded, being absorbed by darkness, and the chest itself faded. Just before he was going to call that maneuver pointless, a large crate appeared behind him. He saw this was an agility test or something to keep him entertained before the real test was set up.
He was going to call it a droll joke, but refrained himself, and pushed the large crate. After he pushed it near the door, he smashed it to pieces. Shattered wood chips flew everywhere, but he obtained something from its interior. He picked up a delicate glass bottle that contained bubbling, green, healing liquid that produced an herbal smell. He thought it'd probably be bitter, but he never tasted it. He called it a potion. A barrel appeared, and all he had to do was lift it up, and carry it over his head. After the task was done, he saw that the door had turned from transparent and untouchable to visible and realistic. Now he was able to open the door.
He stood at the door's entrance and stared up at its magnificent presence. He saw the door open a creak, and an extremely bright light shone through the opening, which pierced through the darkness, and it almost burned his eyes to look at it. His eyes flinched and he closed them, but didn't hold his arm up to shield it. He was welcoming the light to him. The lulling light that wanted to send him to a different sleep than darkness. While he was in the darkness, he felt like going into an eternal sleep, but while he was in the light, he felt like sleeping lightly in a heaven-like manner. He peacefully walked through the brilliant rays of light that seemed so blinding. He felt like he was lightheaded or floating, but when he was so sure that he had opened 'the door that was still shut' as the voice referred it to, he heard…
Hold on.
His rich, oceanic blue eyes shot open with horror thinking that maybe he had done an error. He was usually infallible… what happened? He was so concerned, he was sure he was going to fall ill or have a nervous system breakdown. He was still young, and able to manage these feelings, it was especially hard because teenagers had hormonal and emotional issues, especially the boys who had just reached puberty. He hadn't reached puberty yet, because he was an extremely late bloomer. He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind and think clearly.
The door won't open just yet.
Of course it wouldn't just open that simply! That would've been too easy, he decided. There had to be more tests or something to deal with passionately in the warrior-ship area. Before he could become preoccupied once again, the light cleared and he could see that he was standing on creaky wood. His eyes widened and he saw three familiar figures. He was at the pier at his home, the small island he lived on! He blankly stared at the other three island inhabitants, whom were all older than he.
First, tell me more about yourself.
Ah, the voice was trying to communicate through false images. That was a great plan. They were merely holographs, probably, and he played along. He chose to walk up to the resident he usually got along with more than the others. It was the competitive champion named Tidus, who had shaggy blonde hair and always wore very strange clothing that allowed him to show off his chest, his abdomen muscles, and other strange things like that, and he was seventeen years old. He approached his former friend and expected him to say something, and he did.
What are you afraid of?
What kind of question was that? He pondered over his friend's question. His first thought was getting old, because he didn't enjoy aging, but he already was almost an adult after puberty was complete, but of course, he hadn't even started that thankfully so he could enjoy his youth. He wanted a legitimate answer that cut the slack and went straight to the point. The second thought was being different, and the third was being indecisive. He decided that getting old was the scariest, but before he could say anything, his friend instantly blinked a few times and blurted out…
Gettin' old, huh?
Strange reaction from his friend, he thought. Because usually Tidus would try to compete to see who was more afraid than the other. Whoever was the most frightened would win. He ignored this fact, and went straight to the next closest friend, whom was also seventeen years old. It was the perky showoff Selphie, who had flipped brown hair and always wore a yellow overall dress. She was known to be extremely bossy, always ordering everybody around, because she always thought that she was too mature for everybody on the island, especially since she was the oldest female. The way he described her, it sounded like she was an animal. Cow or lioness, he thought to himself. He expected her to give a lecture or something about how much she enjoys the breeze, as she often did, but instead it was another question.
What is the most important to you?
His first thought was being number one… but his second thought was his friends, probably because he cared about his two best friends so much, he'd die for them. He thought for another moment, because he was thinking about his prize possessions. He finally decided that his friends were the most important thing to him, but he didn't say anything to her and she said…
Is friendship such a big deal?
Oh yeah, total little Miss Bossy. He came to the last friend, whom was 22 years old. He was the islander's blitzball competitor, Wakka. He wore a bandana, a strange red hairdo, and had lots of muscles. He saw Wakka holding a blitzball as he always did, and wore that triumphant victory grin, but he wondered why.
What do you want outta life?
He was wondering what that meant. Did it meant outside of life, the only thing he had, and into a different life? Or did it mean besides life, what did he want? He was trying to make sense out of it, but his first thought was to see rare sights. His second was to broaden his horizons, and lastly, his thought was to be strong. He knew he could easily be strong, but nevertheless, that was his reply
To be strong, huh?
He heard the voice summarize what his chosen path was, and it was that his journey was to begin at noon. He didn't know what that meant, but he said that it sounded good to him, because noon was his best time of the day. The voice summarized the choices by saying…
You're afraid of getting old. You want to be strong. You want friendship. Your adventure begins at noon.
After he said it sounded good, the voice resumed…
The day you will open the door is both far off and very near.
He was back at the platforms again, because the images of his home disappeared and he reappeared on the wondrous gleaming of purples and reds of the portrait of Aurora. He saw a light at the end of the platform, and he knew now that his goal was to find the light, because it made him feel better than hanging around in the darkness, straying off to foreign places not known to the typical human being. He had the potential of seeking the light, and he knew it was his job. He snapped out of his bad habit of falling into strange reveries, and snapped out of his bad habit of choosing wrong choices and falling into the snare of the poignant odor of darkness. He was through with that, he was finished with it once and for all. He was going to be more mature about this dream he was having. He raced to the smallest glimmer of light at the end of the platform.
It provided as a strange spotlight, and after he walked into the light, it trailed off to the other end of the platform. He expected to be playing cat and mouse, and was intensely annoyed by it. He chased the light once again, but this time, the evil shadows appeared. He nervously looked around him as they rose from the pink and red surface, and he held out his hands, and his weapon instantly appeared in the blink of an eye as it did the first time. This time, he professionally held it in his hands now that he knew he had to be experienced and that he knew his goal and his true purpose. He wiped out the shadows, this time not as a malice, but as a warrior of light.
He defeated every single shadow, which made himself proud. He held that pride and dignity high, but the golden silence was corrupted when he saw a green spotlight shine down and some healing material licking off at its edges. He looked at his spare potion, and then back at the green light. It was a save point. Whenever he stepped into the healing light of the save point, it would heal him with the same powers of an elixir, which was a potion and an ether at once, which meant it healed and restored magic. Soon, the light trailed off to the end of the platform, and created church-glass stairs that traveled all the way up to the final platform. He was sure it was the final platform. No matter what, nothing would change that fact. The stairs traveled up the length that he fell, so he would make it back to the first level's elevation, but of course, it was a different platform. He was traveling in a stage called the Awakening, which dove deep into his heart. He charged up the glass stairs, not looking back, because he knew the stairs were vanishing and he couldn't ever go back to that previous platform. It was like the saying "leave the past behind you", even if it was five minutes ago.
The golden platform had Belle engraved into its gorgeous, shining texture. He felt strong and empowered by its healing presence. He felt that he could completely devote himself and trust the light. He knew that evil could never succumb him, he knew that he would win, but if he was so sure, why was his body so tentative? He felt a little unsure deep down, but wasn't able to be weak enough to reveal it to the voice.
The closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes.
All of his confidence, all of his courage, all in that moment washed away. Fear overcame his senses, terror throbbed his heart, and horror overcame his expression. That torrent of light that had encouraged him… was it fake? Was it a trick to simply weaken and finally defeat him? He didn't want to die. The trepidation of the nature caused him be traumatized. He couldn't move. His confidence had transcended too far, it had nearly destructed him then. Now what was to become of him? The travail that he had wasted… oh, why?
He looked at his shadow, and it was now expected. The shadow rose from the platform and stood up, turning into one enormous, ugly, hideous, tremendously large, oversized shadow. Its vile face, its wile goal… It wanted to entice him, to trick him, to trap him, to beguile him, to lure him… It was the shadow that lurked in the darkness and it was to seek to destroy him: but it was himself anyway. It was to be the ultimate battle against shadow and man. He didn't feel that he could do it.
But don't be afraid.
The voice had encouraged him again. What was there to be afraid of? Why was he being chicken? He was going to defeat that shadow, no matter how gigantic it was. But he didn't realize all this… he continued to back up in trepidation.
And don't forget…
He took off running after he saw that the shadow had no heart at all, it had a huge heart-shaped gap in its stomach, in which you could see objects on the other side. He forgot that he was on a platform, and if he fell off the edge… that was it. He trembled at the edge, but didn't fall. He turned around, and gave a mean, determined look at the shadow. He would beat the shadow. He was going to no matter what. He was going to defeat… his dark side.
He readied his sword, and charged at the enormous beast. He beat up its huge fist that could easily snatch him and gobble him up in one bite. The fist, its vulnerability, was the key. He resolutely pounded the monster down, but after ten hits or so, the monster raised that fist into the air. Oh, he was done for. He ducked for cover, thinking he would be hit in that enormous punch, but it was true the monster pounded the fist to the floor. Its fist smeared into the floor and summoned forth those tiny shadows. He began to focus his concentration on the shadows. He was fighting the spawn, not the problem. He realized that when the monster began to attack him with dark energy balls.
He found that when a shadow is defeated, it leaves green orbs behind, if he ate them, he would be healed. Each time he ate them, it had a sweet taste, but a bitter herbal aftertaste. He didn't mind it, and continued fighting. The shadows healed him and he continued to defeat the monster with powerful mind-boggling blows to the monster's vulnerable fist. Soon, he had weakened his dark side to the point where he had won.
A triumphant, but serious look came upon his face. The monster fell to its knees. Suddenly, he noticed something was happening to his sword, he looked at his hand, and the sword had vanished… for good! In horror, he leapt back, and the monster punched two fists into the platform, and came forward, ready to eat him. He looked up in horror to see that.
But don't be afraid.
A dark transportation portal appeared, and he was being sucked in by the black hole method once again. The monster's head was incredibly close, and he was mere seconds away from death by being eaten by his own shadow.
You hold the mightiest weapon of all.
He flopped over to be face-down, to make himself as flat as possible so the monster might have difficulties to eat him without eating the platform. He was being engulfed in the black circular hole, and he knew that he probably wouldn't be eaten, but exposed to the terrible, potent darkness once again. It was putrid, it was poison to him.
So don't forget:
His cobalt-blue eyes widened, and his brown spiky hair was blowing in his face. He looked at his white-gloved hand, and saw his chain-necklace floating. He let out a blood-curdling scream that could be heard from miles out, and all that he heard was the echoing and dead silence as if he had died.
You are the one who will open the door.