The clock struck midnight, casting an eerie silence across the house. Mark lay on his bed, his eyes fluttering shut as sleep took over. Yet, it wasn't a peaceful slumber—it was the kind that carried unsettling visions.
In his dream, Mark saw Mary walking down a dimly lit path. She seemed distant yet familiar, her figure illuminated by a soft, almost unearthly glow. She moved with a sense of purpose, as though she were heading somewhere important. The path she treaded was surrounded by a dense forest, shadows lurking at every corner.
"Mary!" Mark called out in the dream, but she didn't respond. She seemed focused, lost in her own world.
Suddenly, Mary paused. Her foot hovered over a patch of the ground that looked odd—disturbed, uneven. Before Mark could shout a warning, her foot came down with a firm step.
Snap!
A metallic trap sprang up, clamping onto her leg. Mary let out a piercing scream that echoed through the forest, chilling Mark to his core. She tried to move, to free herself, but the trap held her firmly in place. Tears streamed down her face as she cried out for help, her voice filled with fear and desperation.
"Mark! Help me!" she screamed, her voice breaking.
Mark tried to run toward her, but it was as if an invisible force held him back, rooting him to the spot. He struggled against it, shouting her name, but his voice wouldn't carry. He could only watch as Mary's cries grew fainter, her figure blending into the darkness.
"Mary!" Mark jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead as he sat up in bed, gasping for air. The vividness of the dream left him shaken, unable to shake the image of Mary trapped and helpless.
Without hesitation, Mark swung his legs over the bed and rushed to Mary's room. He knocked softly at first, but when there was no response, he pushed the door open.
Mary was asleep, curled up on her side, her breathing steady. Mark hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to wake her. But the urgency of his dream overwhelmed him.
"Mary," he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.
Mary stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked at him in confusion, her voice groggy. "Mark? What's wrong?"
Mark sat on the edge of her bed, his hands trembling slightly. "I had a dream. About you."
Mary frowned, sitting up. "What kind of dream?"
"It felt so real," Mark began, his voice low but urgent. "You were walking down a path. I tried to call out to you, but you didn't hear me. And then… you stepped on a trap. It snapped around your leg, and you couldn't move. You were screaming, Mary. You were in so much pain, and I couldn't do anything to help you."
Mary stared at him, her expression unreadable. She didn't say anything, but her fingers instinctively brushed against her legs, as if checking for injuries.
Mark took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I don't know what it means, but it felt like a warning. Like something bad might happen if you're not careful."
"It was just a dream, Mark," Mary said softly, though her voice wavered slightly. "Dreams aren't real."
"I know," Mark said, his gaze fixed on her. "But sometimes dreams can be a way of telling us things we need to hear. I don't want anything to happen to you.
Mary looked away, her hands clenching the bedsheet. "I'm fine, Mark. Really."
Mark reached out, placing a hand on hers. "Listen to me. I'm not saying this to scare you. I just want you to be careful. About everything. The people you trust, the choices you make, even the smallest decisions. Promise me, okay?"
Mary hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. I promise."
Mark gave her a small, reassuring smile. "You're stronger than you think, Mary. But even the strongest people need to watch their step sometimes."
For a moment, the siblings sat in silence, the weight of the conversation hanging between them. Mark's words lingered in Mary's mind long after he left her room, a quiet reminder of the dangers she faced—and the unwavering love of her brother, who would do anything to protect her.