He rushed out the house to find the sky grey, like cow tongues in a butcher shop. A swirling pattern had replaced the stars and moon and sky. He gasped for breath. Gasped in shock. He gasped because words were failing to form. The grass stood like dark spikes stretching into the nothing.
The groan caused the house to shake and Aaron fell to the soft ground on his knees; the earth bore the same pattern as the sky. The portal was real.
He was only twelve. He should have listened to mother.
But that wasn’t mother anymore.