The Conjurer's Charm - The Dream Catcher series (BOOK 1)

5.0 || Underground ||

His world was blank once again. His eyes were dazed and fuzzy. It was as if his spirit was travelling through an immensely lit white tunnel at an incredible speed. Thudding sounds, then an immediate cease of his rapid movement. This is it, I'm dead. I'm following the light. Then his eyes worked; two slits appeared in front of him and tore itself larger, allowing the light to pierce his eyes, and the world reweaved.

The wooden ceiling was vague before Alwold could identify its individual planks; he was sure that wasn't how heaven was supposed to look like. The colours of his mind fading away as though a camera flashed before him. Then his sight went blank again, an this time with feeling. He jolted himself up and found a pillow blown to his face.

"That was six."

Hale came bouncing on the bed towards Alwold and retrieved the pillow back. Alwold was still at an incomplete loss of his physical senses which were gradually turning active after his head was blown severely by a pillow.

"So from now on, I'm gonna give you six blows of this pillow on your face to wake you up when you sleep again."

"Was that the only alternative you had?" said Alwold vehemently. "What happened to throwing water on my face?"

"I didn't want to wet this beautiful white bed," said Hale between duck lips. "But I could if you want to and blame you to Grampi for peeing on it."

Alwold swung his legs down on the floor and said, "I don't pee with my head."

He saw Hale smirking, with the absolute satisfaction of bothering him. He rushed past her to the bathroom with his hand on his head.

Just awoken by the sudden traumatic experience of his subconscious mind, his perseverance to resume this vacation was beginning to break, as his head was starting to be filled with fuzzy freeze-frames of his nightmare. He was forced to think that there was something wrong with this island. His head was agitated, also burning warm. He looked at his face in the mirror; a thin line of sleep crust was glued to his wrinkled eyes. He gave a splash of cool water on his face and swept his hair to the side, leaning his body on his hands on the porcelain sink.

He stared at his face, frowning, as though some twin-self inside him was the one responsible for all those unfortunate dreams.

"What are you trying to show me?" he whispered to himself.

There was a moment of eerie silence; a moment of contemplation, a moment that forced him to come up with a decision; he had had enough of these nonsensical phantasms.

"Alo, we're leaving for breakfast and we need to visit the museum at ten," Alwold heard Hale behind the door. "You better get ready quick."

"You go ahead," Alwold's voice echoed inside the bathroom. "Leave the keys on the dresser, I'll catch up."

Hale's voice was no longer heard and he heard footsteps leaving, and the sound of the door closing. Slowly, he pulled the handle of the door and peered within the narrow line to ensure if they were gone. The room was silent, and he shot out of the bathroom to open his bag and get a blue shirt and trousers out. He wore them fast, dropped the keys and a flashlight in his pocket and zoomed outside, locking the door of his cabin.

Nobody was seen to be walking close to the sea, which is where he was determined to go. Without a moment to lose, he dashed towards the Moai, looking both ways at the same time. Panting the next halfway, he studied the Moai now fully visible in daylight. Leaning on his knees, he scanned the eroded surface of the torso of the monolith, in search of any sign, a clue, or at least even the answer as a whole. His eyes then landed on something peculiar—a carving. He went close and brushed the surface with his fingers, seeing a symbol inscribed on it what revealed to be a triangle inside an inverted triangle.