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Stephen knew the door was open for a reason, but the obvious explanation frightened him to no end. "Not again", he said out loud, to himself. Two years ago , Stevey (as his mother called him) stepped through just such a door, and finally found his way back after close to three months. Nothin' like seeing yerself on a Milk Carton was the thought that kept him from walking up those steps again.
The last adventure taught Stephen much about the world beyond that golden archway, and temptation for more played heavily on his ten year old mind. "I know the way back , now" he told himself. Abacumbus peeked from around the door frame. Immediately Stephens affection for the dragon made his mind up.
Had anyone watched the scene unfold that day at the Beach, they would have been hard pressed to put it in words. The doorway was by itself , relatively unremarkable. Short of the Flaked golden trim, and the spinning stained glass of its porthole window it could have adorned any number of beach houses in Malibu. What created the mindbend, was the location. Stephen walked knee deep into the surf, and took the first of the four steps into the realm of dragons.
Remembering the past, he was somewhat prepared for the change this time. He actually watched his feet change to claws as they met the shimmering steps. It was with a bit more hestitation that he took the second step, felt his spine stretch and noticed the scales spread along his now muscular, and quite intimidating arms. Step three was fluid to the new Body he inhabited, and made his head spin as vision changed to the infrared spectrum. It was the final step in this misleadingly short staircase that suprised this now mostly serpentine creature.
Language was gone, only thought remained of his Human past. In Steveys mind were the words (if you could call them that) of Abacumbus, the elder of this realm.
First trip through
A child you be
What you do and what you see
See this world
As what you will
Make your dreams and those fulfill
But should you cross
This plane again
All your past reflections end
For now you come
To us alone
And freely walk into your home
"Finally" Thought Stevey, I am home.
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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