HIGH FROST SPIRIT

A gentle breeze blew past a lone figure standing in a vast whiteness, his body shivering from an unknown sensation.

"Where am I?" he thought, scanning his vicinity with squinted eyes, as the whiteness of the mushy ground was too much, too bright.

As far as the eye could see, the vast whiteness below extended, meeting the vast blue sky at the horizon.

Another breeze, slightly stronger than the first, brushed past him. His light attire—his loose pajamas—could not provide enough warmth, causing him to shiver, his teeth beginning to chatter as he hugged himself, seeking more warmth.

"Whe...re...re a... Am... I?" he inquired of no one, trying to move forward, yet the strange mushy ground had sunk him in.

"A sinking sand," he thought, unable to move, as what he believed to be white sand seemingly had a hold of him, pulling him down.

Panic gripped his heart, the surge of adrenaline providing him with the warmth and energy needed to struggle, needed to try and save himself. But with each struggle, each movement of his body, he was pulled further down.

"What's... going on?" he began to hyperventilate as he continued to struggle, clearly unaware of the tactics for staying calm in sinking sand.

Within a matter of seconds, his pulling and kicking had led him to have half of his body below what he believed to be white sand, oblivious to what substance it really was.

The lower half of his body had become numb, the coldness—which he called a strange sensation—climbing up his body, sapping the energy out of him.

"What is this? Am I... Am I going to die? Olivia... The orphanage..." Tears fell down his cheeks, his strength completely gone, his body cold and almost frozen, slowly descending into what he believed to be the white sinking sand.

Slowly and painfully, he continued to sink, now neck-deep into the white sand.

His eyes, frozen open, gazed at the whiteness of the sand, surprisingly wet for something called sand.

The pull seemed to intensify as he went in deeper—a strong force pushing him further down. Suddenly, he was free-falling, his body no longer within the whiteness.

The whiteness, which moments ago had been below him, was now above as he fell hundreds of feet toward the ground—or at least what looked like the ground. Unlike the brown earth he knew, this had a water-blue appearance, yet it seemed rock solid.

"Ahhh," he could only scream internally, his body still unrecovered from the coldness of the white sand.

"I'm going to die... Well, this is better than dying without knowing why... At least I know I fell... Olivia... Sorry I couldn't keep my promise." Perhaps it was the cold or his seemingly hopeless situation, but he smiled, accepting his fate.

Sure of his demise, he closed his eyes painfully, as they had reddened from scraping against the wet white sand. Yet, it was much more comforting than looking at the blue crystalline ground that was quickly approaching—or rather, he was quickly approaching it.

He waited for the thud that would mark his doom, yet none was heard. No pain was felt. Even the wind that had brushed past him as he fell was gone.

"Did I die without even noticing? Guess dying isn't as painful as people think," he thought, believing he had hit the ground and died before the pain could register.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, not really knowing what to expect, as he had never died before. To his shock, he was still underground—the white vastness above and the crystalline blue below, his body levitating between them.

"Ghost?!... Should I wait for the Grim Reaper now?" he thought, considering the possibility he had become a ghost. His eyes searched for his body but found none.

"Where... is I—"

〘 WHO ARE YOU? 〙

A hoarse voice cut through his thoughts, simultaneously echoing around him and resounding in his mind.

"Grim Reaper!" Considering himself dead, he concluded it must be the Reaper. His gaze shifted around for the cloaked figure with a scythe, but he found no such being. Instead, a giant blue eye stared at him.

The eye was devoid of any emotion, yet he could swear he saw a hint of sadness within it.

The eye was behind what he believed to be a thin wall of solid water, looking so fragile that a breeze could break it, yet it seemed the being behind it could not break through,. seemingly trapped.

"I am... " he unconsciously voiced out, strangely drawn by the giant blue eye, its structure humanoid, oozing with a sense of ancient grace.

Before he knew it, he had stabilized himself in the air, flying towards the ice wall, closer to the strange eye, which, unbeknownst to him, had saved him from his pending demise.

"I am... " he said once again, now floating a breath away from the thin, solid wall of water.

The eye looked on, still emotionless, waiting for the boy to reveal who he was.

"I am Luke," the boy finally gave his name, looking into the pupils of the giant eye, the blackness reflecting his features—a teenage boy around the age of fourteen, his hair as black as the abyss, his peculiar brownish-red eyes looking back at himself.

Even though he was in a serene state of mind, his expression was fierce, with a sharp gaze—not because he willed it, but because he had inherited it, from who he knew not.

"I am you," he added, touching the wall. The warmth of his touch caused the fragile wall to crack, web-like fissures diverging from his open palm, spreading throughout the wall.

With a light push, the wall shattered, and his vision darkened.

...

"Haaa, haaa, haaa! Haaa! Haaa!" The boy sat up on his bed, panting heavily. Sweat drenched his bedding and pajamas—the same ones he wore in his dream.

"It's always so real, so painful, yet comforting..." he sighed, getting up from bed, knowing that thinking about it wouldn't help, as this was not the first time.

He'd had this dream ever since he had the capability to recall dreams—frequent, but not as much as lately.

"I am all sweaty," he muttered, ignoring the dream as he headed into the shower from his bedroom, a grand suite that seemed too much for a boy his age to afford.

Within minutes, he came back, adorned in an expensive bathrobe. He sat on the chair beside the bed, taking out his phone from the drawer. "I got so many missed calls... I guess it's today—the 'Spirit Ceremony,' " he thought to himself, sighing as he placed the phone back down.

"Time to pay them for their sponsorship. Hope I get a good one."

╾━╤デ╦︻╾━╤デ╦︻╾━╤デ╦︻

First chapter, let me know what you think