Ding Dong~
Lucas rang the doorbell out of habit before muttering to himself, "Ooh! Looks like she is busy with her shenanigans again," taking out the keys from his pocket. He inserted it into the keyhole.
The door opened itself with a soft click sound.
Inside, the room was dark, and violet rays with a purplish hue illuminated the room with a bare minimum amount of light, painting the room with their colors.
There, seated at the corner of the living room, was his grandma by her favorite wooden chair, which made a creaking sound as she peeped through the window, seeing the last rays of the violet light dimming and bright golden-colored light flickering to life from cars, shops, and lamp posts.
He switched on the room lights until it looked like a goddamn mansion with spacious rooms, as he was by no means from a poor family, and an expensive chandelier adorned the ceiling, reflecting the lights like a star.
As Lucas went closer to her, she tilted her head due to the sudden bombardment of those lights, her white hair catching a gleam of silver, with her cloudy eyes that had lost their shine due to old age.
"And who are you, dear?" she asked gently, tilting her head toward his direction.
Lucas felt the familiar tug in his chest, as this wasn't the first time. He drew a shaky breath before adding playfulness into his voice.
"I am your grandson, Lucas, Nana," he said as he walked toward the balcony with a smile on his face. "Don't tell me you forgot me again, last time you pinky-promised me that you wouldn't, Nana."
Her face softened, and she giggled like a child before muttering, "Oh my, you have grown so tall, Lucas. Last time, you barely reached my waist as you climbed for those sweets. Such a cute boy you have grown into."
Lucas let her hand ruffle his head and rest for a moment before asking gently, "Did you eat tonight, Nana? And don't lie, because if you do, I would probably know it in a few minutes."
"Yes, I ate," she answered quickly, as though afraid of getting scolded.
Lucas gave her a skeptical look at first but decided to believe it after seeing her puff her cheeks like a child, and he chose not to push further.
Then slowly, his grandmother lifted her shaky figure and reached toward the cabinet near the door, from which she took out something covered in a red cloth. With her trembling hands, she closed the doors and sat again on her wooden chair, carefully placing the object on her lap and beginning to unravel it with the tenderness of relieving a memory.
Inside the cloth was a mask.
With intricate designs painted on it in bold colors, with softer tones of golden and silver patterns on the edges, at first glance it resembled a clown's mask. But at a closer look, one could see the splendid and sophisticated craftsmanship done in creating it.
"What is this, Grandma?" Lucas asked, his eyes now holding curiosity, as the mask was a heck lot of cool.
Grandma's eyes lit up clearer than before as she told him this was a mask made by her son, aah!....your father. He always had that little artistic devil in him since childhood.
"And when is he coming back from work?" He should know that he shouldn't keep an old woman waiting.
The question tensed Lucas for some time, but it wasn't the first time, as she had dementia. She had long forgotten her memories and only remembered fragments of them, so it wasn't new for him.
Still maintaining his smile with a little heaviness behind it, he said, "Soon, Nana. He will come back soon."
She smiled at him, saying, "Good, good. Looks like someone is going to get scolded again."
"Come on, Nana. You need rest now. Let's get you back to bed."
She let him guide her toward her room. After he tucked her in, she gave him a sleepy smile and murmured something incoherently before drifting off to sleep.
Lucas stood by the doorway for a few minutes before she started snoring. He laughed a little, and only when she was in deep sleep did he close the door lightly.
---
Back in his room, he plugged in his earphones and blasted heavy metal music that he had saved to his playlist. He had liked it when he was playing an RPG game in which it was a boss theme music.
But then—
As if someone was whispering his name, his brow furrowed. At first, he thought it was in that damn music, so he yanked out one of the earphones, but then he felt that his room was quiet..... in fact, too quiet.
He stepped out of his room, the cold marble now chilling against his bare feet as he made his way through the hallways.
And there, on the couch…
The mask.
Lucas froze, as he clearly remembered placing it near the balcony cabinet, yet here it was, resting almost too casually against the cushioned couch.
"What the hell? Is my schizophrenic borderline-horror dream coming true?" he muttered under his breath.
Cautiously, he stepped closer, muttering a series of mixed chants and prayers which he had heard during baptisms or holy events in films or something he liked to call it. And started muttering them like a madman.
Then, as if a whisper so faint that he felt it was his imagination.
"A d.r...e..a....m"
"Shit!" Lucas shouted with desperation as the mask grew heavier in his hands. His vision started blurring, his knees buckled, and darkness closed in, muttering the same thing again and again and again like a broken whisper haunting his mind.
"A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m"
"A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m" "A d..r..e.a..m"
"C#*@le #ne Cr&&tid"
He finally blanked out, with the mask now attached to his face, as the smile painted on the mask seemed to grow wider and wider with each passing second. His own hand raised up like a stringed marionette and pierced his chest with such force that blood splattered on the back wall with a wet sound, followed by the sound of his ribcage cracking.
His chest now bore a hole from which blood dripped. The same bloodied hand pulled itself out with a sickening wet sound and crushed his heart like fruit pulp until it burst, and he convulsed on the cold marble floor, with blood painting the white marble in a brilliant shade of red.