The Mound (Part Two)

That particular display of arrogance proved to be my undoing.

After a few drinks that afternoon, each of us went to our respective rooms. I had completely forgotten about our previous adventure and went straight to bed.

I did not know if it was due to fatigue, but that night, my sleep was constantly interrupted by  strange dreams--- or were they? I would be awakened for many hours hence by inexplicable activities, the nature of which I could not discern. 

In my groggy state I was overpowered by the need to stay lain, but my mind was well aware of the on-goings around me: doors opening and closing, people in hooded cloaks marching right in--- chanting prayers that were painfully unfamiliar. To my amateurish ears, the prayers sounded Latin, but I could not have guessed any better.

People in hooded cloaks marching right in

I knew I was asleep but I also knew that the clock by my bed displayed 2:00.  I was aware of unwelcome presences--- of hooded figures chanting and whispering and that they had in their hands candles, all black and tapering. I also felt it when they had decided collectively, without even speaking, to carry me from where I was lying--- out to the porch of my villa. 

I was aware of unwelcome presences--- of hooded figures chanting

I was also aware that they had carefully laid me down--- dead as a  log--- across my own doorway, so that it would look as if I was blocking the way in. 

When morning came, I was surprised by my own failure to be surprised. The first sight I had set my eyes on was the beachfront. I was lying across the path that led to  the room just as I had  dreamed! Had I sleepwalked?

How I must have looked like, sleeping by the doorway

I stood up and got dressed immediately. My friends met me for breakfast before we  went for our first open-dive. While changing into my dive suit, they were all dumbstruck to see, as I took off my shirt, red markings on my torso.

Something that resembled my torso markings

The pattern looked to me like one of the intricate etchings found on walls of Chinese temples. Its deep reddish hue resembled fresh bruise. I touched it; it didn't feel anything.

"It's nothing. Let's go," I faked; but at deep in my subconscious, I was beginning to have an inkling. I had made a mistake.

The red markings were just the beginning to a series of unfortunate events that would forevermore constantly teach me a very important lesson.

To be continued...