The Forever Gate by Isaac Hooke

started to return the diary to the duffel bag when a gust of wind snatched the book from him. He fumbled for the thing—
    His knees slipped on a patch of ice.
    He tumbled over the ledge, joining the diary, and that vortex of snow, in the long fall into forever.

CHAPTER TEN
     
    Hoodwink relaxed completely. He let his arms and legs spread-eagle, and he stared skyward into the swirling heavens. He'd never felt such peace. Oblivion was coming soon. And he accepted it. He could relax now. It was over.
    In thought, he returned to the happiest days of his life, when he and his wife and daughter were young. Memories of White Park, of making angels in the snow, building snowmen, having snowball fights. Him and Cora making out behind the tree while their daughter played with her friends. Maybe he'd go back to that time, soon. And relive those moments forever. That wasn't such a bad thing.
    His scarf partially unraveled and flapped across his vision, bringing him back into this world. The wind roared in his ears.
    He was falling.
    Falling.
    Hoodwink lifted his chin to look at the wall. He was gradually tracking away from it. The rope was there, the one constant line amid the blur of rock. He tried to sit up, but succeeded only in dipping his bottom and forming a V-shape with his body.
    He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest, and twisted. His body revolved instantly, so that he fell face-down now. He experimented with different arm and leg positions, finally turning himself around so that he faced the wall. The Forever Gate still tracked away, and was almost lost in the blizzard.
    He tried paddling his arms, but that didn't help. At a loss for ideas, he contracted his abs, forming an inverted "V" with his body. Yes, that was it. He was drifting forward now.
    The upward blur that was the wall came closer, as did the dividing line of the rope.
    He grabbed at the rope, but it slid past his gloves. He squeezed as hard as he could. The gloves ripped through, and blood spurt from his palms into his eyes, blinding him. He forced himself to squeeze harder. The rope was like a saw, grinding through flesh and bone.
    He released it.
    He passed through the cloud-cover then, and the snow became rain. Red lightning flashed from the clouds, but the wind of his descent consumed all sound.
    Lightning.
    Time for a different tactic.
    He hurled lightning at the wall again and again. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do, but the lightning had no effect. If a User bomb couldn't make a dent in the thing, how could he expect lightning to behave any differently?
    But then he noticed something.
    The lightning had pushed him back from the wall. Was it just his body positioning that had steered him from the Gate? He struck again. Nope. It was the lightning.
    He glanced down through the rain. If he timed this just right —
    The ground rushed up faster than he'd anticipated. He released the lightning in quick, controlled bursts.
    His descent slowed rapidly, but not rapidly enough, because he struck the ground faster than he would have liked. Still, his landing was cushioned by the wet sand of the surface.
    He lay there, motionless, the last of his charge lingering on his arms and legs, the crackle of spent electricity finally fading out.
    The rain had stopped, and the sun beat down on him, hotter and stronger than he'd ever felt it.
    He pushed himself upright, and saw a world entirely unlike the one he had left behind.
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    Hoodwink stood in a desert. Sand dunes stretched to the horizon, unbroken by any landmarks, beneath a sun as molten as the blacksmith's forge. The sky-reaching wall behind Hoodwink was the only landmark of note, unless you counted the bones of giant beasts in the distance, half-buried in the sand. The skeletons of monsters from the nine hells?
    He discarded his winter clothes, and wrapped the scarf around his raw hands. Though it had been evening, the sun stood in the midpoint of the sky. He searched in vain