Turning sharply, he went to the edge of the wood stairs and pressed lightly. They retracted smoothly into the wall, exposing what he knew would be here. Hell. The cupboard of hell. He pulled the door tall enough to enter without ducking, and walked into the tiny darkness. A wave of his threads and the wall became shelves, long and labeled with times and emotions. He gently placed his snow globe in a spot that felt right somehow. This is where such darkness should stay, alone. Not forgotten, he knew that forgetting never worked. He had tried to forget pain and hunger before, after all. No, this was right somehow.
He walked back outside and rubbed his hands together. This was probably going to take some time. His green ropes sailed through the air, pulling another gray cloud down to be placed away.
Could he feel tired? Hungry? How long had he been here? He had quickly decided that he was inside his own mind, the memories were a huge clue. He continued collecting and sorting the clouds, and each cloud he caught would play a memory. Most of these where as expected quite bad. Still he continued, as the grey clouds began to be categorized and left downstairs in hell. The sky seemed bluer somehow, and that made him feel even more warm. It also seemed to make it easier to control his ropes, and less time was needed between each snow-globe he made.
This next cloud however, was black. And this black cloud felt wrong. It dripped some sort of black ooze, and had small red lightning shards crackling around the edge. He firmed his jaw. This was NOT what he wanted in his sky. This would be bad though. A snow globe didn't seem right for this cloud.
He thought hard. Badness like this should be kept very controlled. It was not welcomed here. He tried to think of something evil like this cloud, something bad. As he thought back, he seemed to almost hear something, a woman. It seemed to come from this cloud. Could his ropes hold this though?
He threw his hands firmly forward, and wrapped this cloud as tight as possible. As it got closer, he could a woman screaming, a mans laughter, the cloud flashed a sickly and poison-like green. He watched in growing horror as some dark figure screamed words at this woman, a beautiful lady with red hair, who seemed to be protecting him. Words were not possible. It played several times before he could feel time passing again, and he crushed the cloud, trying to make it feel the anger, sadness, and pain he felt. That woman was IMPORTANT. He did not know why, but she had tried to help him, and this cloud was old! She could have been anyone, maybe even a friend! Maybe she could have saved him from the hell under the stairs if not for that back shadow of a man!
His eyes glowed green as the cloud became more and more compressed, ropes lost their grip and became threads, pressing and squishing this vile cloud into a small black pearl. He would not destroy this, this abomination. She deserved this moment to be remembered, maybe even avenged. The Red Woman would be remembered, but this cloud would not be tolerated.
He turned with anger, unaware that green threads carried the black pearl along, as he walked downstairs into the white wood hall. With a wave of his ropes a section of the white floor opened and a bright red carpeted stair opened into a cushioned room, the same red color as her hair. Her memory would rest here, protected and safe. His thread created a tall and simple black pillar, with a bed of his favorite flower, Lily. He gently placed the black pearl in the center, and stood in silence, anger on his face and tears in his eyes. He turned and headed up the stairs and to the grass filled world, breathing deep and trying to calm.
If there were many more memories like that, he may break. To have someone willing to help him was amazing. Maybe she would be in other places? Other memories? Still, better go back to lighter colored clouds for a while. He needed the break.
He began leaving some clouds in the sky. They were fluffy and white, and while a few required parts removed (Dark edges like being caught outside without working, or talking to others), most were just random things that he enjoyed. That cloud had his first memory of seeing a flower. That other cloud had images of a pretty night sky when the power had gone out in the village, and stars had been everywhere. He didn't even know he remembered these things, and watching those clouds float by made him feel cleaner, brighter, lighter. There seemed to be some older clouds in the distance, but they were so far away he decided to come back later for those.
He had been laying on the grass for a while now. Time seemed strange here, but he didn't want to leave yet. His control over the threads, ropes, and even thick cords now was much better. Apparently with less clouds, and without needing to fight the dark ones back, he was far more relaxed. He had however needed to create another room, a cupboard INSIDE his cupboard, for the darker Dursley moments, when the Fat Man, Thin Woman, and Dudley had done things to him that hurt worse than usual. He had actually put little prison bars on those snow globes, and just thinking about it had made him giggle a little. It was like having dozens of tiny bad people in jail in double hell, which was more than they deserved in his opinion.
He looked at his body. His right arm was still longer, and he had no doubt that the poor food and heavy work load had probably caused issues with all his other bones. The muscles and stuff he was not as worried about, that had been fixed almost by accident when he had been working on the bone earlier. Still, probably should do the most important ones first... which meant the head. He knew he had been hurt up there a lot. When his vision went a bit bad after the frying pan incident, he knew something had not gone back right. Still he was a bit worried. What if it didn't heal right? If his head grew, would his brain be all right? His eyes?
Then again, if it went bad, what would he be risking? Dying now, on warm dirt and grass with soft scented winds under a blue sky? This would a better end than anything he could imagine even a few days ago. Heck, he would have fought for a death like this a few days ago, so why not risk this?
Firming his resolve, he pulled all his threads, ropes, and cords of light he had into his skull. The warm feel of the light was acting differently, apparently his light threads were not nearly this powerful outside his mind as here. He supposed that made sense, here he could do anything imaginable while out there he only had a single thread, or at least he did before cleaning up in his head. The power was more responsive though, and took much less energy to control. Moving away the distractions and not repressing the bad memories seemed to have greatly increased his ability to concentrate.
As the light began wrapping his skull, his inner world seemed to become brighter. Colors became stronger, scents brighter, even the soft noises of wind blown grass seemed crisper. Then the warmth began soaking into his brain. The world paused for a moment.
Suddenly everything was moving and staying still at the same time. It felt like the world was TOO REAL, the blue of the sky could almost cut his skin, the smell of the grass was hurting his ears, everything was more. He could faintly hear popping as parts of his skull broke, as his eyes slightly deformed, as his jaw unhinged. Even worse, he could actually feel some teeth moving, vanishing, and growing. But the pressure in his head was growing.