White Realm

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My eyes scanned the mounting crowd, the seemingly timeless subway station unfurling before my eyes. Coasting rail-cars swept my hair into my face, fluttering my jackets lapels against my neck. Bustling individuals cramped into the underground passageway, all going somewhere of their own free will. They all were choosing which locomotive they hopped onto and vanished along one of the separate tunnels. I had no such choice.

A stifling gust of humid air clogged my lungs as I inhaled slowly. Through the midmorning occurrences, the thwarting of the noise, I could depict the snapping. The sound came from the semi-round eighties clock, or more precise, the spinning gears working the inside. Each time the minute hand inched around the circle, they reset, clacking, and clicking. When finally the hour hand made its massive leap from two o’clock to three o’clock, I closed my eyes. 

Shattering the chatter of the crowds, the resounding chimes filled me, vibrating the very ground we stood on. It rattled the columns standing tall against the surrounding walls of cement. Then, I exhaled, sending the draft of warm air swirling away from my lips. My eyelids peeled back from my eyes, the chiming of the subway clock draining from my ears, leaving me empty, as if someone had pulled away what was holding everything in. 

It was abruptly peaceful, the sky a shattering azure, the sun frothing on the billowing clouds, and blinding me with its reflection on the snow laden ground. The air was a content cool temperature, unlike the dizzying heat of the underground tunnels. But much like the locomotive stop in that realm, the clocks gears rotated, the erie shifting resonating within my head. I had a limit of time here, best to finish what need to be done. 

I shed the heavy jacket wreathed around my shoulders, standing among the open field clad in white, my raven hair frisking in the breeze, tangling around my shoulders and brushing my lower back. The chill in the air bit uncomfortably at my bare ears. With a final glance, I took off, my feet covered in soft leather boots, the hue of freshly fallen snow, my leggings skin tight, the full upper body a single piece of clothing. 

My legs caught in the rhythmic throbbing of a full out sprint. My body hovering over the ground, a white blur in a white landscape. The frigid winds sun around my form as I streamlined through the unburdened lightness of the open terrain. My arms pumped along with my stride, body tilted slightly forwards. The ground was swallowed by my galloping footfalls, left behind with mere prints of my being there. 

As far as I could see, miles perhaps, there was nothing but sharp whiteness. While I ran, I slipped a white hood over my head, concealing my features within its folds. My breath never faltered or became uneven, it was bound to ever stay soft and light. My limbs never grew tired of the ability to run, as far as I may need.

The ticking of the minutes fading away brought me no discomfort, I knew where I needed to be, and how long it would take me, before I wound return to that subway station in the other realm.

My fleeting pace didn’t slow, until a black, iron gates loomed before me, and the soles of my boots took the brunt of my skidding halt. Heavy waves of snow flew from below my feet and I became still. 

The gate wasn’t just a gate, it was connected to guard towers stationed on either side of it, which sprouting from each of those were black iron walls, enclosing the City of Elms inside. My head stayed down, mimicking the same thing done every time entry in is permitted.