upside down

Falling, dreaming

Talking in your sleep

I know you want 

to cry all night

Falling. Arms flailing. He was falling on his back. The sky above him was looming every farther away. He knew he wanted to be there. He could smell the acrid fumes, and poisonous gases that would slowly kill him and revive him time after time, and then kill him so that the pain and torture would never end. The sky was painted a dark blue, clouds hanging low and ominous and fast rising. Or he was falling. He shuddered as a gust of wind blew around his body, a gust other than the shrieking wind that was racing him to the bottom. It felt hot and cold at the same time. A soothing blessing, and a burning curse. His heart raced, trying to break free of his chest. Trying to stay up. Maybe by pumping blood, it could fly to where he had fallen from. Fly to where he was falling away from.

Wings flapped from far away. A hurtling object, raging towards him. Black wings. Angelic face. It grabbed his hand, its hand felt cool, smooth, winds fighting the currents, fighting hard. Face curled in concentration. A jolt, and they were rising. Wings flapping slowly, calmly, gracefully. 

A shrieking from below. The prize being snatched away from it. A hand grabbed his other hand. Rough. Scaly. Dragging him down. It was easier to go down, the one with the black wings was pulled down too. For a few seconds, they were falling. With a mighty groan, they started to rise.

Fall, rise. Fall, rise. And then they stopped. He was being pulled in both directions, his torso was perpendicular to the bottom. He was facing a wall of the tunnel, it was the closest thing to. The wall was red. Stones jutting out ferociously. Angrily. They could tear his soul. He thought. And shook his head, trying to use logic to fight the absurdity of that statement. His heart did not believe him. The fear continued.

He looked down. The creature had a beautiful face. White wings. Hands were smooth. But felt rough and coarse. It was glaring past him. He looked up. The one with the black wings. It smiled sweetly at him, and then glared past him. The wings flapped slowly. In directions away from him. In opposite directions. And he was held still.

He realized he was afraid of going to the bottom. He wanted to go up. With that thought, he began to rise. The one with the black wings began to win. It was a trip rope act and he felt he was going forward. He landed on top of fluffy clouds. Outside pearly gates. The smell of his favorite things. It bowed to him and then flew away. Circling into the distance. He felt relieved. A burden off his chest. He walked in. It was just as the books mentioned. All the books. He screamed. This… it… was not -