(Part I)
Mark had never really gone far. His world was small, defined by the familiar walls of his house, the rhythmic streets he walked to school, and the quiet corner of the cafeteria where he could watch life happen without being swallowed by it. But somewhere in the depths of his imagination, there existed a place he had never been — a place that felt safer than anywhere, brighter than the dull chatter of classrooms, and filled with possibilities that seemed impossible in his ordinary world.
It was Mr. Sock who first whispered about it. "There is a land," he said one rainy afternoon, "beyond the hum of lights, beyond the clatter of shoes and whispers. A place far away, where minds like ours can breathe."
Mark tilted his head. "Far away… how far?"
"As far as you can imagine. But to reach it, you must travel inside yourself first."
That night, he lay in bed, Mr. Sock perched on his shoulder. The rain streaked down the window in long, silver ribbons, and the hum of the radiator became the heartbeat of their journey. "Inside myself…?" Mark repeated.
"Yes," said Mr. Sock. "The world outside is vast, yes, but the world within is endless. You can walk it step by step, thought by thought, until you reach Somewhere Far Away."
Mark closed his eyes. He imagined a plain stretching to the horizon, soft as clouds, where colors had their own music and the air smelled of stories waiting to be told. The ground beneath his feet was neither dirt nor stone — it was something softer, something that listened and responded to his steps.
He stepped forward.
The first step was cautious. A tingle ran through his toes as though the ground was alive. Mr. Sock floated beside him, bobbing lightly. "You see? Nothing is impossible if you let it be."
Step after step, the world shifted. Buildings faded into gentle hills. Cars melted into streams of light. The chatter of school was replaced by a symphony of soft whispers, the kind that made your chest feel like it could expand forever without pain.
Mark felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: freedom.
---
(Part II)
In Somewhere Far Away, the rules of reality were different. Trees leaned in as if to listen when Mark spoke. Rivers didn't flow in one direction — they curved and looped, carrying laughter, dreams, and forgotten memories. Animals of curious shapes and impossible colors roamed the landscape. One had feathers that glowed like the sunrise, another had eyes that mirrored the sky itself.
Mark was hesitant at first. Every sense was heightened. Every color shouted its presence. And yet, it wasn't overwhelming. It was inviting.
"This place… it's beautiful," he whispered.
"It's your creation," Mr. Sock replied. "You imagined it. You are allowed to belong here."
He wandered along a path made of soft, mossy light. Each step hummed with a note, forming a melody that seemed familiar yet completely new. He imagined meeting other children here — ones who felt too much, ones who didn't fit anywhere else. But this land was empty for now, just for him and Mr. Sock.
"Why is it empty?" Mark asked.
"Because you are the first to arrive," said Mr. Sock. "And first arrivals get to shape the rules, to lay the foundations. Later, others will find it too, if they need it. But this journey… this is yours."
Mark bent down and picked a handful of glowing pebbles from the path. They pulsed gently in his hands, warm and alive. When he dropped them, they rolled and split into smaller lights, spreading across the ground like stars on a dark velvet sky.
He laughed — a laugh that wasn't stifled by fear or worry. The sound echoed over hills and rivers, bouncing and returning to him in gentle waves.
And then, as he turned a corner, he saw it: a small, flickering light in the distance. A fire? A lantern? Something alive? His heart thumped. The horizon here wasn't a line of despair or confusion; it was an invitation.
Mr. Sock floated closer, whispering, "Curiosity will guide you. Courage will carry you."
Mark walked faster. The closer he got, the warmer the light felt. And though he didn't know what he would find, he knew that the journey itself — the act of moving through his imagination without fear — was already changing him.
---
(Part III)
The light revealed a circle of stones, arranged as if for a ceremony long forgotten by time. In the center, a flame danced without smoke, without heat, yet it radiated comfort and safety. Mark knelt beside it, sensing the pulse of the land — a rhythm that matched the beat of his own heart.
"You see," said Mr. Sock, "the farther you go, the more you find pieces of yourself. Each step uncovers a strength you didn't know you had."
Mark reached out and touched the flame. It didn't burn. Instead, it sent a ripple through his chest, untangling knots of anxiety and fear he hadn't even realized were there. He closed his eyes, breathing in the warmth.
Hours, or maybe minutes — time didn't exist in the same way here — passed as he explored the land. Hills rolled into valleys that hummed with song. Trees bent to whisper secrets, rivers invited him to follow their twisting paths. Every detail was alive, responsive, comforting.
"This place," Mark said softly, "I never want to leave."
"You don't have to," Mr. Sock said. "It's always here. Not just in your imagination, but in the part of you that believes in hope, in wonder, and in the courage to be yourself."
Mark smiled. Somewhere Far Away wasn't just a fantasy. It was a map of his mind, a sanctuary of his spirit, and a promise that even in a world that often seemed too loud, too confusing, or too harsh, he could find peace.
That night, he returned to his bed, carrying a small glow in his chest. He hugged Mr. Sock tightly, feeling warmth and courage intertwine.
"Tomorrow," he whispered, "I'll come back."
"You will," said Mr. Sock. "And each time, you'll bring a little more of yourself. That's how you grow. That's how you become stronger."
Mark closed his eyes, dreaming not of school or rules or the things he couldn't control, but of hills that sang, rivers that laughed, and a place far away where he could finally be free.