It was a beautiful evening in New York City. A light breeze rustled the leaves of trees and danced on the rooftops. The sun hung high in the sky, but the moonlight would soon come out to join it, bathing everything in its pale silver glow.
The man stood by the window watching the world go by outside, his feet planted firmly on the floor.
He was dressed casually in jeans and a white shirt. His hair was down, loose curls spilling around his neck like a waterfall. But his attention wasn't on the view of the city outside. It was locked on something else entirely. His eyes stared blankly out the window; they seemed unfocused, and his face had lost some of its colors.
But he did not seem to notice that he was missing an important piece.
He was holding a book in his hands. It looked old, worn with age, and there were several holes in the cover where the pages used to hang. The words on the page remained illegible. No matter how many times he opened the book to examine the text, no sound reached him, nor any other sense either. There was no sound from the outside world either. Just the occasional rustle of a leaf or the chirrup of crickets in the grass outside.
He turned back to the page and began reading once more. His lips moved slightly. The letters formed the words of a familiar lullaby; the sound soothing to his ears, a whisper on the still air. Yet, even those sounds couldn't reach his ears, for he didn't hear anything at all. It was almost as if someone had cut the song short before it could begin. As though someone had cut off his life before it could truly begin. Even now he could feel himself fading away. Like a flame extinguished by water, he felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing, touched nothing. Not yet at least.
There is still time…just a little longer…one moment…please, just a moment. Please…one last time…he thought. Just this once…let me die with music…and my songs…
He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the rich sweet perfume of flowers. He felt a warm breeze on his cheeks. He smiled as he let the scent fill his nostrils, letting the music flow through his body. With each breath, he drew into his lungs the memories rose like a gentle tide. All the emotions and feelings that had gone unsaid until then, rising, bursting forth in a burst of joy and love and hope and sorrow. And then he was gone.
~
As he faded away he could hear someone calling his name. The voice sounded far, far away; he could not see the speaker. He was floating above the clouds, watching as the ground became a dark grey blur below him, then slowly turned to blackness. Soon, he was looking down upon the darkness. He was standing on a vast plain, covered with snow and surrounded by ice. Everything was frozen, dead. Nothing alive or moving, nothing at all. Except himself, of course. His body was as still, as a statue made of solid ice. He was wearing an extravagant robe, decorated with golden thread and embroidered in gold, his face shrouded in deep shadow. He stood staring down at the land, seemingly unaware of what was happening around him.
As he continued to stand there, gazing out over the landscape, the ground rumbled beneath his feet. Slowly, the surface began to crack apart and open, splitting the ground in two. Out from the cracks emerged a great beast, a monstrous thing made of stone and metal. Its head was shaped like a dragon's, with sharp teeth and burning red eyes. It roared, shaking the earth beneath its feet. Then it charged towards him, its claws extended.
Suddenly, the creature stopped, its mouth wide open. It was screaming, but no sound came out. Instead, it simply dissolved into dust, disappearing as quickly as it appeared.
He stood for a moment, completely confused. Had he imagined the whole thing? Or had he seen that enormous beast running towards him, roaring in rage? He started to look at the surrounding which is nothing but pure white snow. There was nothing there. No footprints, no evidence that anyone had ever been here. The snow fell silently around him, making everything appear dreamlike as if nothing was ever here.
Was it all only a vision? If so, then why would the beast have suddenly disappeared after charging straight towards him?
"Hello?" He called out tentatively, hoping for something that would explain what had just transpired. However, he received no answer. Only silence. He looked at his hand, turning it this way and that, searching for something. Something tangible, something that might indicate who had spoken. But there was nothing, except the same cold white flakes falling around him.
He began to wander around the barren wasteland of ice, wondering where exactly he was and why he had awoken here. He tried to remember when he had woken up but found that he didn't know.
Perhaps this had never happened at all, perhaps this was only a dream for his last junctures. But where? Where will he go? What is he supposed to do? How did he get here? These questions went unanswered. He started to inspect his body if there are any problems. He found none, except for the wound on his chest that is slowly healing up. He was surprised to see the wound recovering at a very fast speed. But surely it wouldn't hurt, right? He tried to touch the wound but upon contact, he felt pain, it was as if his chest has been touched by a burning amber. But this only lasted for mere seconds anything that he can describe. Everything seems too smooth, every step he takes is causing a disturbance, like stepping on glass shards. The snow glistens under the moonlight like thousands of tiny rubies. It is clear to see that it is not made of crystals but rather something much stronger than those. It feels so real.
He walked around and observed his surroundings, noting the fact that the place he was currently in is devoid of any vegetation, trees, animals, or plants of any kind. The wind blew softly, brushing through the strands of his long blond hair. He started to calm down and analyze what is happening. When he thought about what had happened moments before, he began to understand the whole situation. He had died, his spirit somehow escaping the confines of his body. But where had that taken him? Was he reborn or something?
He tried to use his senses as the wind swept past but failed to find a trace of life anywhere. He sighed heavily, knowing that it was hopeless to try and figure out his situation anymore. He looked out over the endless sea of white, the snow covering everything. In the distance, he could barely see something that resembled a forest. He followed the path and found a somewhat familiar place.
A small, lonely hut sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean, hidden behind some rocks. There was a large lake, filled with floating icebergs, stretching into the sea. He wondered what would be inside the hut, waiting for him. Does it have any food or supplies inside? Or any clues about where on earth he is?