(Not Braxton's perspective. This is Nox, the small child in the other world. )

Perfect darkness surrounds me, but warmth also shrouds me. I slowly become aware of being conscious when another pressure builds behind me. I follow the pressure instinctively. My small hands start pressing against something. My consciousness fades as instinct took control.

I awake to a harshly bright world. Every piece of me resonates deep discomfort.The sensation overwhelms me, and I start crying. After about 5 minutes, my eyes open. Staring back at me is a large thing. Light brown hair on its head reflects a bright yellow light which is pleasing to my eyes, but very quickly exhaustion compels me to sleep despite my strong curiosity about my new surroundings.

After awaking another time I start to feel a deep itch in my mind. As though something needs to be satiated, the force remains restless, but I do not know what it is. With this in mind, I just continue to cry, and the large thing holds me. My nerves and anxiety are slowly removed through soft movements.

After 3 months of hazy consciousness, I start to feel the itch become stronger. I am discovering many new things with each passing day though, and I’m happy to see my mother and father each day. I know they love me, and I return their love with utter confidence. My favorite things are mom and dad. Mom is thin, but she is lovely. She has blond hair that seems to shimmer like a jewel in the wind, and loving green eyes that see through the mist that covers the world. My dad is a thick framed man with brown hair that is wavy. His brown eyes match perfectly with how he often sees things in one shade of color.

After about a year I finally speak! My mom and father have always been talking to me, and I never knew what they said, but I have always wanted to say it to. Why do I know they are my mother and father? Why do I know I wanted to “say” it? I become confused at knowledge just automatically placing itself in my brain. Again, what is knowledge? Where…I’m tired with these thoughts. I’m going to sleep.

I become able to speak much faster than my mother and father thought, and sometimes...I even know words that they don't.

I look around my wooden room, and think about how I love the way the fire dances in it’s home of stone. My dad says, “My name is Klay. Your name is Nox. Say it with me Nox. ‘N-ah-cks.’ ”

“Silly daddy. Clay is dirt, you are daddy,” I said with a smile. My dad looked at me with confusion before saying, “Nox...Where did you learn clay is dirt? How...did Mommy teach you that?”

“Everybody knows...Cway is dirt daddy!” I imitate his pause because it's what I am supposed to do.

“...Well. My name is Klay. It is a different name than for the dirt.” Klay says with a furrowed brow.

“Okay Kway. Hahah. Daddy, you have a siwwy name.”

“At least I’m not silly enough to call my dad’s name silly!” He says while lifting me high in the air and swinging me around.

Euphoria fills my flying body as I scream at the fear and fun of the situation, “AHHH! Haha!”

Afterwards my daddy puts me down and gives me a few of his tools to play with. I love using his tools to build dirt piles outside, or pretending to build stuff like my daddy. “He can make chairs, but so can I!” I think while wanting to be like him. After all, he is perfect. I have never seen him ever do anything wrong, and I doubt I ever will. Mommy is the same way. I think about how great they both are before going to sleep.

Several months pass and I remember how to make a chair. The itch in my mind intensifies as if something is irritating my consciousness. I don't really know how to explain it, but I don’t hate it. It kind of feels like a friend is roughly playing with me. I know it is a good thing for some reason, and I don’t want to get rid of the feeling. I decide I will build a chair like daddy.

“Nox! What are you doing!?” My mom yells with her mouth aghast. I look down and put down the small tools I am holding. I have been using a flat rock to sharpen one of our only knifes, and I am going to use it to whittle some sticks that way I can build a chair like Daddy.

“I wanna make chaiws wike Daddy.” I say while I finish sharpening the knife.

“Wha-Did Daddy show you how to sharpen the knife?” She says with fury lacing her voice.

My face crinkles, and a knot forms in my throat. She might be angry at me, and I start to cry as I explain myself, “I thought everybody knew how to….I-I’m sowwy mommy!” My heart falls through my stomach as I think about how I've disappointed mommy.

“It’s not your fault Nox! Daddy should not have shown you that. Don’t sharpen knifes anymore Nox. Don’t even touch them. Can you promise mommy you will do that?” She says while slowly growing more calm as the conversation continues.

“Yes Mommy!” I say while brightly grasping onto pleasing her. Mommy takes away my knife and places it way too high on a shelf in our kitchen, but I really want get the knife, so I use the rope we have to knock it down from its location onto the lower counter top where she usually cooks. I then climb the side of the counter and get the knife again.

Several days later I build all of the pieces for the chair in secret from Mommy and Daddy. For some reason I know If I take the pieces of wood and ground the edges they will be smoother and look better. I have used the wooden hammer and the knife like a chisel to bore out holes the wood can fit into, and I made what looked like a bunch of pieces of wood that just needed to be assembled.

I was really excited to get to work. With raised concentration I started to put the smooth logs of wood together. After a short period of time, I complete the tiny chair. I jump up and down, and start to lose focus. "I'll show my daddy!" I ran through the house to his workshop.

“Hey Nox! What is my little worker doing?” He says while squinting and smiling at my appearance..

“I have something to show you Daddy! I can make chaiws to!” I say while proudly revealing the small chair I have made.

My Daddy’s kind expression changes to being stunned. He drops the hammer and piece of wood he is using at the moment, and he stammers as he says, “Th-That’s, you made that Nox?”

I am really confused by daddy’s expression. He grabs the chair from me and starts to stare intently at it. He revolves it around in his hands as if to absorb its design the best he could quickly.

“This is...spectacular Nox. How did you learn to make this? How did you make this? You're barely even 5... ” He states with fervor related to people who love their craft.

With both my hands at my sides I say, “Spectacular is what I do. Wait...” the same itch on my mind comes as I say it. This time It is more like a pressure on my consciousness. Like a different person is trying to share my mind. Darkness creeps from the edges of my vision to cover my entire view.

With a nudge, my dad wakes me. Hot water drips onto my face as I hear him yelling through a thick fog. I relish in the fact I'm being held. The strong arms lift me and as I open my eyes more and say, ”Daddy…,”, Klay starts to cry more uncontrollably. My body become weaker as the pressure in my head become unbearable.

My mind is being compressed sharply against a much greater force. For the first time the benevolent force makes feel fear. I can feel my control weaken, and my memories and thoughts leaking into the larger force. Like I am losing my mind, the presence becomes gorged on my soul. I start to accept it as I struggle out with my last breath, “goodbye...Daddy.”

I know it is over when I can't breathe anymore.The darkness that has surrounded me for the last few minutes becomes pitch blackness instead.

*******

Massive edits so please let me know if anything is awry.