Finnish Mushrooms

It was his footprints, and a smile began to carve itself on his lips. He scrambled up and began to follow them. They twisted and turned. He did not know how long it took him, but he found where he had tried to take a shit, for he could see how there was an imprint of his ass in the snow.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FINALLY!" He bellowed out. He was getting closer to the camp.

He continued to follow those footprints until he saw a light in the distance, a very faint glow, he ran for all he's worth, but no matter how much he ran, the light did not get any closer. It was as if it got even further away from him.

"Nonononono!!" He began trying to run even faster, but he tripped on his own feet.

His face was now in the snow, but his determination was not gone yet. He lifted his head from the snow and saw how the light was no longer there, nothing except darkness, just like everything surrounding him.

He laid down his head once more, face down in the snow. He brought his warm mittens before his head, and he laid his head against them, still face down. Now his face wasn't going to get cold because of the snow.

He stared into the bed of these star-shaped crystals. He felt how they were drawing him closer to them.

Shimmering white stars, holding secrets, the very limits to the infinite, like the sun above blazing through the darkness, in never-ending patterns that congregate into galaxies. Far and wide, what he saw was not fields, no.

It was an open glade with green grass and blooming flowers. A woman clad in a dress bewitched his eyes, her blond hair swaying with the wind.

She danced for him through burning trees and broken dreams, her eyes deep like the ocean. He was feeling death drawing near. Broken shards were shimmering, a trail of blood following. Ever closer, she drew near, open palm facing forth. The saddest tears man could know.

Forever seems soo near. Can you feel the tears. Coldest hand ever clasped, the fire drawing near. The maiden's skin pale like snow, like ice sheets breaking loose.

In a trance, her rose-red lips moved. Oh, morrowless, a dance ushered forth, with blooming flowers sprouting. Step by step, a new world was forged, brought forth by greed and lust.

Broken men, skulls of the dead, littered the barren land. There was no end to this dance. Her luscious lips moved, and he could hear something akin to that of the screaming dead. Black winds swallowed the stars above. An endless winter set afoot.

The cold winds of death set loose, thousands of suns breaking free. No life remained, this endless dance broke through a void, where shining mountains of gold rained from the skies.

There's only death for thee.

Withered land of old, no more trees will grow. Gray. Empty. DEATH.

Barrenlands, no man's land, there life will never prosper.

There in death and fire, where the suns fell, their never-ending dance shall come to an end.

Now embraced, twilight has come, where he saw the sky turn crimson and the ground flooded with blood. The girl before him wore a smile, she leaned forward, and when their lips met, there was nothing.

No stars, no light, no sky, no ground. Only darkness remained. He looked behind where a man stood, holding a musket in one hand and a sword in the other. On his head he wore a crown. His hair reached down to his shoulders it was blond and curly. His garments were that of a soldier, just like him.

The crowned man looked at him and pointed his sword in the direction behind the boy, he turned around and saw two great doors before him. Made from gold, they emitted a radiant glow. He turned his head around where the crowned man once stood, but only darkness was there.

He turned and began to approach the doors before him. Intricate patterns laid before his eyes, and murals of long-forgotten wars and battles were carved on those doors. He took a deep breath and opened them.

He was enveloped in a blinding light.

Before his eyes were thousands of intricately woven patterns clashing against one another, white in color, they felt familiar. It was cold. He could not feel his hands anymore, as he tried to move them, his head fell.

He noticed he was lying on the ground. Without any fire, he scrambled up and looked around him, trying to figure out where he had made camp. He remembered that he could try and follow the footprints he had previously made.

A hoot startled him greatly, and he fell on his butt. Scanning the dark forest around him for the owl, he saw those eyes lurking in the depth of the darkness, not the eyes of an owl, but something entirely different.

The hoot came once more. This time he was not fazed by it. He quickly gathered himself and began to search once more for footprints.

It had been five hours since he had eaten that mushroom stew, and the effects had started to lessen, but they still made him see hallucinations. It took him more than an hour to find his way back to Skymmning, who had fallen asleep on his bed of pine needles.

The fire was long dead, and he struggled to restart it, but he managed to get it going after a couple of tries. Where he preceded to stare into the flames for hours, watching the flames dance around them. He remembered the girl he saw and pondered what all that was about.

Who was the guy wearing the crown, a king? And where did he go? Was he transported to another world? Soo many questions, but he found no answers. Maybe he could find them in Stockholm.

His troubled mind slowly drifted towards sleep and the crackling fire, Drifted further and further away.