Third Ballad- Past Monsters

Over the years my dreams started making more and more sense to me. Maybe they matured as I got wiser. There were some that showed me the future, albeit rare. Some of them showed me stories of other people, I had no idea who they were, yet there were entire plots built behind their movements and dialogues. I would wake up in the morning surprised at what I had just seen.

My family said it was because I watch too much Tv and read too many fantasy books that I dream too much. But the question was more of even though everyone enters REM stage. People usually forget what they dream about. I could recall more dreams than anyone I knew. I figured it was probably because of my attention to detail or empathy for others, or the fact that I think a lot.

I had once dreamt of walking through a town that was preparing for a festival. People wearing colorful clothes and young girls running around and celebrating. It gave me a smile as I woke up.

Another time I had been locked in a sanctuary inside a graveyard. It woke me up in the middle of the night in tears and sweat with my heart racing as though I had just run a marathon. My siblings would get freaked out at times by what I told them, and everyone would tell me to sleep less often.

But for some reason, I actually enjoyed my dreams. I was free and nobody could scold me there. It was my breathable space. Unless of course, I was running for my life or stuck in a nightmare. I reached a point where I could control my movements in dreams and became a lucid dreamer.

But when I turned 15, I started having even weirder dreams. Some of them I felt I had seen before and had to go through again. Lybrinths I had to cross before the door closed and all that adrenaline-rushing stuff.

In real life, I was greeted by people, who felt familiar but I never knew who they were. It became suspicious, so much so that my family thought I was secretly hiding a boyfriend. Of course, they had to accuse me of something, because they disliked my personality so much. I wasn't the angel my sister was, nor a practical person like my brother. I was just good at getting average grades.

I was once greeted by a girl with short blond hair and a mole above her lip, she had claimed she was from the class next door, a real beauty. It was my first time seeing her here, she sat down and chatted with me for a while. It was the most awkward fifteen minutes of my life, Yaya glared at me for cheating on her, while this girl was even more confused about why I was being distant.

"Are you not feeling well Mary?" she asked.

"Um, no, it's just that..." I hesitated looking for an appropriate way to ask her how she knew me.

"Ah right, sorry I got distracted, here I wanted to return this to you. It helped me out a lot" She placed a decorated pocket mirror in my hand and stood up.

I looked at the mirror and it was the one my sister had given me as a present on my previous birthday. 'But I never gave this to anyone. I don't think anyone even knows this mirror exists since Sara gave it to me when I was alone...', It had the symbolic 'M' crafted on it.

"Oye, who are you cheating on me with?" Yaya demanded and I noticed that the girl had disappeared.

"Omg, where did that person go?" I looked around.

"Ah, I dunno, I didn't see"

"Hey Yaya, ... do you know what this is?" I asked showing her the mirror.

"Yeah, I saw it on your dressing table before, you said it was from Sara" she replied calmly.

"And do you know who that girl was?" I asked confused by what was going on.

"Um, shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"She was thanking me for this mirror, and I don't remember ever taking it outside, and I don't think I even know that person"

"Ah, maybe you dropped it somewhere and she found it?"

"No, she was thanking me for giving it to her"

Yaya seemed creeped out by my words. "Maybe it was one of those times where you helped out a not-so-pretty girl and inspired her and she got a total makeover, 'cause that ass didn't seem real, ya know what I mean?" she pouted.

I couldn't pinpoint why everything felt odd, but even after trying, I never saw the girl at school again.

I took a better look in the mirror and realized that it was cracked. It felt like a bad omen so I decided to throw it away.

....

A bucket of water was splashed on his face, and he gained consciousness. He tried to wipe the water away from his face but quickly realized that his hands were tied behind him on the chair he was sitting on.

Henson could not understand what was going on, or where he was. A smell of smoke filled the air and burned his lungs.

Three figures stood in front of him, and it seemed like they were wearing robes. The man closest to him seemed old and daunting to him.

'Where have I seen him before?' He tried to recall but his head hurt from thinking. A streak of blood poured down his forehead and he realized he was bleeding.

"Are you sure this is him?" the old man in front talked to a tall guy in the back and he nodded in response. Henson could barely make out their faces, but he realized that all three of them had bright green eyes.

"What are those guys thinking? This is all rubbish" said the old man. He looked at Henson and addressed him, "Why did you disobey my orders?"

"...Because they were trash?" he replied sarcastically. The wound on his head was no joke, and required immediate treatment, yet for some reason his blood was pumping.

The old man felt offended, but the third person grabbed him and whispered something in his ear to calm him down.

"Boy," the old man spoke.

"Ah! I remember you were that lunatic priest that killed all those people in the market" Henson spoke bitterly.

"You idiot boy! You have left the path of salvation and must be purified. We will rid you of your demons!"

"My demons?" Henson smirked, as he showed the people in front his loosened hands.

The three figures were surprised and were now on guard.

"Let me make it clear to you old man..." he laughed, and stood with his face close to the fake priest.

"I am the demon" he spoke softly as his raven eyes reflected a depth of emptiness in them.