The Prophesy

By Luna Mar Camacho

I was born to be a sacrifice. I was raised like a sheep to be sent to the slaughterhouse. That has always been my destiny, but I don’t want it. I will not accept it.

The red moon will be in five days and I need to find a way out of this castle.

—

Ton ton ton!

A sound from the hall in the way of Mark’s room. She was coming. The witch was here.

He got in bed and covered himself with blankets, all the way to his neck. He lay on his right side, looking at the wall. He was scared, but he tried to act as if he was sleeping.

The door opened softly. A woman entered the room. She was old, about 40. She had black hair and green eyes; her skin was white like the snow, and she had on red lipstick making her pale skin look even more chalky.

She walked all the way to the bed and sat down down next to the boy. She caressed his hair and with a soft voice said, “I’m sorry little one but this is the only way. I wish there was another way.”

Then, she stood up and left the room.

The second she left, Mark stood up and paced about thinking about her words. He was focused on a mission; he had to leave.

—
Mark came up with a plan to escape the castle the night prior. It was very simple. A few years ago, he took medicine to help him fall sleep. He had stopped taking it, but there was still some left. His would put some of the medicine in the witch’s tea. Then, when slumber took her, he would leave.

Every night before going to bed the witch sat on the balcony looking at the moon and drinking her tea. Mark didn’t know if the medicine would still work, but he intended to try.

That night everything was going as planned. Mark snuck the medicine into her cup and watched from afar as she took a sip.

“Little one, come sit with me” she said, not even looking up at him, but knowing he was there.

“I’m not little anymore,” Mark replied. “I’m 15.” He walked toward her with fear in his heart but courage in his eyes.

She let go of a small breath of air and gave the boy a weak smile “You may not be small any more, but you still are not able to lie to me.” Her voice was soft and creepy.

A cold wind moved across Mark’s back and onto his neck making him shiver in fear.

“I know you’re planning to leave, but you can’t,” she said. What is coming is all part of a prophecy, a prophecy that needs to happen, a prophesy that nobody can stop.”

The second she stopped talking the witch looked at Mark. He was dizzy. His eyes began to close little by little until he only saw black. But, he was still able to hear.

“I really wish there was another way,” the witch continued. “But your blood is unique and we need it to make him come back to life and walk in this world as a human again. I’m sorry little one.”

—

The next time Mark opened his eyes he was chained to the ground. His body was inside a circle painted with a red liquid. He knew it was blood. The smell was so strong. There were animals scattered around him, from cats to sheep.

But, he could not see very well. The only source of light were candles. There were strange drawings on the
floor and papers with all kinds of symbols on the walls.

He did not know what was happening; he could only feel fear and confusion. Those feeling grew more and more, and soon he couldn’t control the tears escaping from his eyes. He couldn’t stop shaking.

Out of nowhere he saw shadows going from one corner of the room to another. They moved fast. There were so many of them. There were sounds, too, of all kinds–women’s voices, men’s voices, words in different languages.

Mark was so confused that all he could do was close his eyes. He shut them tight, hoping the fear would fade, but it didn’t matter how strong he closed them.

The voice of a woman, stood out amongst the noise. She was soft and sweet. “Open your eyes, open your eyes,” he heard again and again.

Soon, there was no more fear, there were no more noises, only the voice of that women.

Mark, filled with courage, opened his eyes to a bright light. It dazzled him so that he had to close his eyes momentarily, but he kept opening them again.

He saw a woman in front of him. She was beautiful. She was crying. A man nearby looked at him with tears in his eyes, too. His caring voice came forward. “Hi son.”

In a matter of seconds, Mark remembered a life before, a life with his parents. The memory of the witch and what happened felt like a dream, a memory of a past life he did not now know.

His parents and the doctor said that he had an accident; he was chased by wild dogs. To hide from them, he entered an abandoned castle and passed out.

The doctor said he had been in a coma for a week, but that he would be fine in a few days once he got more rest.
—

Mark went back to the castle where the accident happened a week later. The castle was the same as in his dream, the room, the halls, it was all familiar.

He walked down to the basement were he thought they had trapped him before he woke up. The door was closed with a chain and a padlock, but he took a rock and hit the lock again and again until it broke.

Inside there was a library. In the middle of the room there was a small table with a book on it. It was open to a page with instructions on how to make a demon walk on Earth again. The ritual called for the blood of a family member.

Mark did not know how was this possible, but in his heart he knew his dream was true.

That day he went back to his house very confused. His mom and dad seemed happy as he sat down at the table to eat dinner. They talked about their day and joked and laughed as usual. Everything was perfect.

Even though he knew what happened was real, Mark decided to ignore it and pretend it did not happen.