nearly white
The World crumbles around me into particles of light, reality's kaleidoscope shattering into a million pieces. Inside each piece lies a memory, a fragment of a possibility. They all share the same scenery, but none are one and the same. They are all pieces of the same World, separated only by the moment it broke.
The fracturing of the looking-glass reality cracks softly around me, a melody of musical amethyst, each shard reflecting the world beyond the visible. My mind wanders through this grand mosaic like a bird across the ocean's endless waters.
Each new fracture is the pressing of a piano key. Soothing music rises in waves from the surface, as the bird glides above the harmonization of pictures and sceneries, each bleeding into the next without ever becoming the same.
O, luminescent bird, what do you see beyond the horizon? What do you seek upon these boundless wilds?
Featherfall from its beating wings, vigorously gliding as though sliding upon light itself, perpetually carried onward by the radiance beneath its flight. The bird soars onwards, without destination or a place to land, it simply flies until its glow fades and it falls beneath the cracks of light.
What is it that you seek, what is it that you lost? The empty mirror asks to its formless self. You can be anything, you can be anyone, reach out and grasp it, that which will illuminate your soul. The light of Genesis brings about the end of the World, as it births countless anew, and the bird became a girl
Waking from the earlier descent, she gets up and runs, blanketed in a veil of light. The reality beneath her feet rippled like a shallow lake, and at each fragment stepped upon, a mark was etched into, like footprints into the sands of eternity
Before long, a door towered in front of her, etched into the ground. A simple, old door. The girl approaches it on her tiptoes, grabs the knob, twists it, and then—
[ The book closes ]
???
This is how the story ends.