I’m in a barren land. There are no trees in sight. There are no animals in sight. There is not even a single piece of bright youthful grass fighting to emerge from the dusty ground. Like a baby bird having just broken free from its shell, I am lost and confused. And then there was the silence. An all profound, all-encompassing and absolute sound of nothing filled the air. I turn around and a strange sight fills my eyes: a volcano hundreds of stories high is standing in front of me. Its vast size was a wonder to my young mind. It was a deep black color resembling a cursed cat’s coat of fur. There were no signs of life like the land around it. It was dormant as if it had not unleashed its fiery rage in years; it was sleeping peacefully. I had no choice but to wander closer to inspect this majestic structure. My feet place themselves one in front of another towards the volcano, as if they were being pulled by an unknown force. As I get closer, I see an opening in the side of the structure no bigger than your average set of double doors. It was almost like it was inviting me to come inside.

So I did.

I stumble inside but need to close my eyes because it's so blindingly bright. I put my hand up to my face in a childish attempt to block the overwhelming light and cry out. And then out of nowhere it dimmed like how the day does when a billowy cloud passes in front of the raging sun. I lower my hand and look down at my feet. I’m standing on a narrow pathway, no bigger than a few feet wide, made of the same rocky material that the volcano’s exterior is constructed of. On either side of the pathway is a sea of burning lava. It’s red fingers lick the air and crack with mighty power in every movement. Though I am not afraid. Rather, I am in awe of this rare sight that I had only seen in pictures of lands far far away. I turn my head and at the end of the pathway standing there is a man. He is sitting at a white table, its entirety crafted out of of a strong white birch wood, shining white like a pearl hidden in an oyster. I could not see this man’s face. He is dressed in all black, and is wearing a large black hat that shadows his face like the treetops of a great dense forest shading the jungle floor. I make my way over to him cautiously. My mother had always told me not to talk to strangers, but her words fly by me in this moment as if they are a baseball soaring right past my head. I have a seat at the beautiful white table accross from the man. The fragile chair I sit in cries out when the weight of my body sinks into its fragile limbs. I look down on the table and am pleasantly surprised to find that the man had made arrangements for tea. The tea cups are much like the ones I had at home. They were also white, but had pink borders the color of a rosy pair of cheeks. Though there appears to be no honey. What a shame.

I was about to take a sip when suddenly his face morphs into something animal like. He resembles a lion engaged in a furious roar: frightening and deadly. I try to run away from the bad man, but I stood no chance against him-- my efforts are useless. I moved terribly slow, as if I was stuck in a field of molasses. I try to scream but my shouts are stuck in my my throat. The only sound now was the constant hissing of the lava below. The man towers over me and makes me feel more helpless and weak than I ever had. Then he grabs me into his arms and holds me above his head like a weighed no more than a gallon of milk. There was nothing I could do now. I was a spider on its web, dangling in mid air. He releases his grip of me with great force and hurls me at the red sea of lava below.
And then it was dark.