Vision2 Read Free Page A

ebony world that wound its way around him like a ribbon of night.
    The satin surface tightened against Roger ’ s skin, suffocating his pores and momentarily gripping him around the waist before letting the rest of his body slide through unharmed.
    Once his entire body had passed through, he sat on a ledge of empty space and took a deep breath. He couldn ’ t see back through the mirror. There was nothing, only darkness. Roger curled up in a ball, gripping his legs until his knees brushed up against his chin. The cold had begun to feel like a layer of mud that pressed against every inch of his skin, its thickness suspending him in the darkness.
    As he sat there, he could feel the air shifted around him, giving way until he gradually felt himself slipping through the ebony world. He clawed at the air, trying to grab onto something, but the thickness that had been there only moments before faded to nothing more than fog with his touch. Within seconds, the substance that had held him up failed completely, and he found himself plummeting through nothingness.
    He tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lungs. The air rushing by his face was moving so fast and with such force that he couldn ’ t inhale. If not for the momentum he felt, he wouldn ’ t have known he was moving. There was no hollow roar of wind, no pressure on his face or skin, simply the movement of his body as he tumbled over himself.
    Roger clawed at his face and throat, trying to find some way to force the air into his lungs, but nothing helped. His throat burned as if he had screamed it raw, and his lungs were like two hot coals smoldering in his chest. As Roger began to lose consciousness, ghost voices and song fragments floated through his head.
    It had been over sixteen years since the last time he danced to Manfred Mann ’ s The Mighty Quinn with his mother, but he could still remember her soft voice and bouncing laugh.
    That ’ s right, Roger thought as he fought to stay awake, Quinn was an Eskimo. The song echoed through his head, relaxing him. It had been one of his mother ’ s favorites, and she used to play it on her old record player while they danced around the room.
    Just when her voice began to trail off and leave him, his body was thrown against a harsh, unforgiving surface. A deep, rattling cough racked his entire body before he was finally able to draw a breath into his still burning lungs. As the stinging subsided and his limbs returned to him, Roger opened his eyes a slit and was immediately assaulted by a bright, green glow. It took him a few moments to realize that he was in a circular room made of green stained glass.
    Each pane was a different shade of green, ranging from lush forest green to puke green. Pulling himself up on his elbows, he gazed around the room, forcing himself to take several deep, controlled breaths until his lungs felt normal.
    There wasn ’ t any kind of door to the room that he could see. He rolled onto his side and inspected the piece of glass he had landed on, but there wasn ’ t a single crack on its surface. This was a miracle considering the speed and velocity of his body at the point of impact.
    Where in hell did glass that strong come from? Where am I?
    He grimaced as the pain once again flared from a dull roar into full agony as he tried to stand. He gripped his head with both hands as the pain drove him onto his knees.
    “Ow! My fuckin ’ head!” His scream rang through the still air, startling him. He had forgotten how quiet everything was until he heard his own shrill voice echoing in the round chamber.
    “I can talk,” Roger thought out loud, actually amazed at the sound of his own voice. He remembered the last thing he had heard before now had been Bear ’ s frantic barking.
    “Hey! Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?” Roger croaked, grabbing his head as it once again began to throb. “I need an Aspirin.”
    “I ’ m afraid we have nothing to offer you, but sleep will take care of