The Fallen Knight

A willful knight taking on one last adventure

Tom was a bedridden kid, who suffered from a chronic lung illness for most of his life. He loved reading fantasy novels on his bed, those were the only things that kept him up and alive day by day. He would often picture himself as the main protagonist, going on amazing adventures and living to his fullest potential. He craved to see the outside, his mother's stories of her everyday life gave him a glimpse of what the real world is.
One day, he woke up as this knight, hands wielding a sword and shield. Surrounding him was a dark dungeon, quiet as it could be, not even a whisper to be heard. Facing such bizarre circumstances, there in his heart, he knew he must escape this dungeon, to go beyond the gates, to freedom. His first challenge was to exit the initial room, in front of him was a wooden door, he made a beeline for it.
 
Before him was the giant, sturdy door with one single handle; he mustered all his strength and heaved with all his might. He kept putting pressure, not stopping for a second to rest. The gap got bigger and bigger until the door was fully wide open, before him was the abyss, dark and silent.  
 
With his unyielding spirit, he traversed down the stairs, his pace started fast, remained stable, then the fire dimmed out. For a moment, the goal, the adrenaline, was the thing that kept him hastening through the flight of stairs. Now, each step crept through his entire body, each landing sensated up his spine. His view, senses and existence were all enveloped in darkness. After a while, he was just mindlessly walking, one leg over another, heavy breathing yet quiet, the cloak of night had swallowed all ambient noise, leaving him with only his inner voice, loud, distinct, detached from all.
Eventually, tiny specks of light found their way into his field of vision, reviving him from the pit of dark emptiness. Upon the last step down, rays of light escaped through the opening, revealing a whole new world. The first thing he noticed was the crystalline chandelier, underneath it was a frozen ice floor.
 
It was cold, vapor formed as he exhaled, clouds after cloud of smoke filled his line of sight. The icy floor, the heavy steps, slowly encased his whole body, making each step like treading through a mud puddle. His head fell down under the intense weight, vision locked on every step, he was still moving. He was afraid of looking up and saw nothing but emptiness that would take out every fiber of strength left in him. Suddenly, a chill flew through his cheek, awakening his drowsy eyes. The flow of air must come from somewhere, the egress, it gotta be close, it must be.  
 
He could see the blinding lights pouring out of the door. As if the room itself was being consumed by the intense radiance. He had to cover half his face with his arm, itching forward slowly, entering the light. Freedom, he could taste it, he wanted to run, but his legs wouldn’t move faster. Had they given up, no, please, no, I’d reached this far. Yet, somehow, he had made it to the door, he walked past it.
Pieces of the outside started appearing, the front yard, where he vaguely remembered in his mind, the garden, where mom grew her favorite flowers. He could see the street, Mrs.Dixon, their beloved neighbor, was she running toward him? The border of his vision got blurry and soon darkened. Oh, the serene blue sky, he could not see it, only the cobblestone of the yard.