Creating Gold

seven

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The Vision
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There's a banging that rings on deaf ears. He is unconscious on the dirt road, surrounded by white fog that kills the air. Nothing is alive, are you?

He jolts, he is awake. His eyes a viscous pink, his lips a frightening blue. He is awake, but is he alive? He sits up rapidly, a frenzy begins in his mind. He looks around, alarm painted across his sharp features, he stands and begins to follow the dirt road that appears to go nowhere. The cold seeps into my skin, I can see his breath.

I follow along, eagerly watching for something to happen. I'm on the edge of my seat. There is a haze between us. A lamination that glitters all over his pale skin, iridescent as it transports his world to mine. It seems he can't see me as I see him, his universe must be parallel with mine. Perhaps I am dead.

He stops for a moment, in shock I suppose. I hadn't been paying close attention to where he was taking me, however I follow his gaze and see- I see gates. Large overbearing things, the type of looming entrance that instills fear. They are dark, rusted over years. Painted in black that has been chipped by time. They appear thin and spindly but must be strong if they are old. Maybe no one comes here.

He enters. Brave i suppose - or impossibly foolish. The path trails along, almost comically long. So long I do believe that whoever built the place must have known the torturous extent a people must go to, just to discover what lies at the end. I was so sure he'd have given up after a while, gotten bored and started picking flowers or gone for a jog. I had gotten bored after three seconds of the same red dirt to nowhere, it was unimaginably dull, but his determination not once faltered. He marched on with a glint in his eye i had never witnessed before - not where I'm from anyway. Perhaps it was just the veil playing tricks on me, maybe he was bored out of his mind too.

The path splits two ways: left leads south, right leads to an obscure boulder. He decides to venture left. If he could hear me, if he could feel my touch, I would have shaken his shoulders with the power of Lucifer and pleaded with him to just stop this. Maybe he was insane. It was my fault really I should not have chosen his path to follow.

I sincerely hope he develops a case of fiery bowel.

We do arrive at the end after a while. A long while. Perhaps it is not the end, maybe there is more, however he seems to decide this is his stop - Praise the lord!

At the end, a small entrance peeks out from the dirt path. Nothing special, just a rock with a door. The door has hinges and the hinges are held on by screws. You know how it goes. It all appears new: No dirt on the rock, no cracks in the dark oak, no rust on the hinges or the screws. It all seemed...divine.

Always a red flag.

Inside is a hallway, Further ahead are two paths, one left, one right. he takes the left. Its twisted trail leads passed long lost rooms and tombs painted in a fine layer of dust. Its soon after that we enter a large room of hanging cages. The air stood frozen for a moment, my blood ran hot. It was dark, but it was light enough for me to notice that most of the rusted cells were still home to their prisoners. They were bones turning to ashes. What happened in this place? The boy advances carefully onwards, deeper into the stone graveyard. He passes many different passages, most of which probably lead to other horrifying memories of lives not worth living. He eventually makes it to what is likely the final room. A wide steel door blocks his path. Dried blood splattered all over, somehow also untouched by time and the elements, just sickeningly smeared in red. He took a step closer to inspect it and..

"wait.. what is that sound?"

His voice was strange. I knew his tongue, I spoke it like I spoke others too. If it wasn't his language, it was his accent and his steel deep voice that made me pause. His voice made me think of the ocean. It was water crashing over sand, it was calm.