Me and the Devil

Dreams

You can never guess how your life will come to an end, not really. You may have a time frame if you are sick or perhaps you have even planned your own death, but you don’t know exactly how it will end. And then there’s the question of after death, will there be a white light at the end of a tunnel? Perhaps heaven? Or even hell? Or perhaps worse than any of that there is just nothing. A vast plane of never ending blackness. I had all of these thoughts before I died. They seem so far away now after passing on.

I laid in the cold wet cell, the cold wind blowing in the smell of sulfur as the day went on. I had lost track of time at this point, it felt like years had gone by. No one spoke to me, only once a day I would hear what sounded like footsteps coming toward my cell stopping to peer into the room and then would leave. I would never see the figure, I could only feel their piercing gaze.

At first I was afraid after waking up here. I thought I had lived a decent life, but I guess I couldn’t get the blood off my hands. This place seemed like Hell. It had a deafening silence which I fear more than screams of pain. Silence meant I was alone, and being alone was my greatest fear.

I resigned myself to deal with this because I deserved it. At the end of the day I was the one who killed them. I laid looking up at the damp ceiling, my body ached still from the wounds of my death. This place made me relive those moments. I could feel the air around me shift as it was about to take me back.

Looking up at the window to my house I could see them, my husband and his affair partner. She was my brother's girlfriend in highschool. As much as I’ve longed for my body to not go into the house to not barge in on them to just walk away and start a new life it did not listen. My feet slowly began to move up the path as my heart pounded with each step.

I could hear the moans from the moment I entered the front door. The only part about this memory I appreciated was seeing the image of my family as I walked through the hall. I tried so hard to stay and look at it longer, but my memories could not be altered.

Panic crept into every inch of my body as I pushed open the door. I could see them going at it, I remember feeling hurt. Not because I caught them together, but because he was so much gentler with her than me. “Why?” I spoke softly, my voice broke, betraying my angry facade with how hurt I actually was.

I heard her gasp and begin to try and cover herself with the blankets.

“Why the hell are you home early?” John growled, still thrusting into her as if being caught was not worth stopping.

“I don’t feel good…” I looked down.

“Just go f*****g wait in the livingroom,” he grabbed Megans’ leg pushing it wider as began to pick up the pace.

“Why?” I started and braced myself because I knew what came next. He grabbed the framed photo on my nightstand and threw it at me. The corner of the metal frame caught right below my eyebrow before crashing to the floor.

“You killed them, that's why!” He growled slamming into Megan seemingly more agitated. “You aren’t worth my effort.”

“f**k you,” I turned on my heels and began to walk away.

My heart slammed in my chest knowing my murder was about to begin. As his hand clenched a fist full of hair a sound pulled me out of my dream.

I sat up wincing at the shooting pain in my ribs, I found an albino raven trying to get in as I looked towards the one window. My groaning filled the cell as each movement screamed out in pain. It seemed as though the way I was murdered still had an effect here in this purgatory. Each wound festering, the pain only dulling if I lay still. Crawling across the floor I had wanted to give up, but I needed this external stimulation unless I wanted to wither away into nothingness. I stopped and stared up at the ceiling watching the light dance along the stone. Wouldn’t it just be better to wither away? It’s not as if I am alive. I sighed loudly and turned back over reaching the edge of the wall, I leaned against it and fidgeted with the window until it opened.

The crow hopped in and stared at me curiously. It had a black jewel on its head between its eyes. I noticed a small bag tied to its foot. I pointed to myself trying to ask if it was for me. It cawed and held out its foot. I carefully untied the bag from the beautiful bird and pulled open the strings that held the bag shut. Out fell a single amethyst colored pill.

“Do I take it?” I coughed. The crow nodded as if it understood me. Many thoughts flooded my head. Could this hurt me? Will it kill me? If I am dead, can I die again? The crow chirped as if it got frustrated that I hadn’t immediately taken it. I shrugged and popped the pill to dry swallow it. It was tough but I got it down thankfully.

The crow flew out the window and a few moments later a small slide in the door that I hadn’t noticed opened and a bottle of liquid opened that had a shimmering tint and cerulean blue hue to it slid in. I rolled on the stone, I quickly reached out for it afraid it would break, fear pulsed through me afraid of the pain that would course through me. It did not come, as I thought about it my entire body felt strangely better.

I brought the drink to my mouth and let the blue liquid slide down, it was a crisp water with a hint of sweetness. The crow hopped back into the cell and swiftly flew over to the bed.

“Thank you,” I bowed my head to the creature and stood up. My body was stiff and tired, but it didn’t hurt. I reached my arms up to the ceilings to stretch out, my muscles aching from lack of use. “Okay Mr. Crow, where am I?” I asked the creature aloud, though I wasn’t really expecting an answer.

Walking to the window, I didn’t know what I was expecting but as I looked out on the bustling city I was shocked. The sky was a dark blue with dazzling stars scattered across it illuminating the city below. Just past the edge of the city was a brilliant forest. “It’s beautiful,” I mused while looking out. The cool breeze kissed my cheeks, the crow hopped up on the window seal and looked at me curiously. “Thank you.” I said again appreciating the sight before me. I pet the bird softly letting my finger give gentle scratches on the side of its neck. The bird cooed and lend into it.

I stared out into the city for what felt like hours, just listening to people living their lives. Deep down inside of my soul I wished to live normally instead of how I did, but it seemed impossible to even think I could accomplish that. Soon sleep was calling my name, and I conceded to her that I needed it. I held out my hand for the crow to hop into it, and it did so. I carried it over to the bed and laid down looking at the beautiful bird. It was albino, but as cars drove by the lights reflected an iridescent color on it.

“You sure are beautiful,” I let the bird get comfortable on my chest watching it carefully. “Can you keep visiting me?” I asked, feeling almost shy. This was an animal after all even if crows are smart it’s not as if it can choose to keep coming to my cell, he is obviously owned by someone. The bird bowed its head seemingly answering yes. “Can you actually understand me?”

The bird chirped in an offended tone.

“Sorry,” I chuckled and stroked its head. “I don’t particularly know where I am or how things work here.” The crow chirped and settled

“My name is Astoria,” I said, and closed my eyes. The crow began to coo softly the sound lulling me to sleep. This seemed like the first time I wouldn’t have that nightmare.

I looked around and found myself in an office, books were scattered about the floor. It smelt like a rich whiskey and sandalwood. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I hadn't dreamed like this since I was like 16 and I hadn't dreamt anything else then those last moments since I came to this place.

The office was slightly dark with the only light coming from a lamp on a desk in the back of the office, it was a massive place. It felt foreboding but welcoming like I had been here before. I looked around at the books, most were in a language I didn’t understand. I chuckled as I found a stack in a corner that was in english but a lot of them were YA novels about love. I found one that I absolutely loved as a teenager called the Black Sheep and the White Wolf. It was the most worn of the books so I assumed whoever this belonged too loved it as much as I did.

A whimper broke the silence and I looked up nervously to see if I had been caught. A man sat at the desk, he was asleep, his head laying on his arms as his breathing made the only noise in the room now that I was paying attention. I walked over to the desk unable to help myself. The man had messy obsidian black hair that looked as soft as silk. I was in awe at the feeling of this dream, I had always been able to dream walk, but this was on another level.

He wore a mask, it was eggshell white with intricate red marbling around it and some sort of insignia on it that I couldn’t recognize. It had six different eyeholes but no holes for a nose. It was oddly beautiful. I noticed his fingers twitching slightly as if he were having a nightmare.

I reached out to soothe him, brushing his hair away from the mask. “Shh, you’re okay.” I whispered, unsure if the man could actually hear me but felt the need to try and comfort him. I brushed my fingers against the cold porcelain. I wasn’t entirely sure why, I didn’t know him and yet I felt an odd yearning for him. I wanted him to be okay. He grabbed my hand, yanking me around in a swift motion. I found myself pinned against the wall with a dagger in my throat cutting my skin only so slightly.

“It’s you…” The man’s voice faltered and the dagger fell. “How?”

I couldn’t think, how was he able to touch me… This was a dream right?...