Yerribas the Bloodless

While Lucia and Owen were busy courting death, at the Horsey Inn in Strawford Town, George and Diego just finished their roasted sausages.

"Thank you for the meal, Huckleberry. And I enjoyed talking to you. Sadly, I really wanted to sleep now." George said, apologetic.

"No problem," Huckleberry told him. "How long are you staying here?"

"Just for tonight," Diego answered in George's place.

Huckleberry had his son, Stallione, prepare their room. And like his father, he was muscular and had tawny hair and fur. But he spoke less compared to Huckleberry. He only speaks when asked. Never made eye contact. Only did what he was told.

He gave them clean pillows and blankets. A jug of water in case they get thirsty in the middle of the night. And a chamber pot.

George immediately hopped on the bed. The mattress was a little harder than what he used to use in their villa but he ain't complaining. He was fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

And when he closed his eyes, he found himself back in a familiar place.

'That dream again?' he thought.

Seated on a stool ina dark, squarish room. Facing a dirty old man holding an hourglass.

Unlike the previous dream, the sand at the bottom has increased. As if time flowed similarly to the 'real' world.

'Why am I having this dream again?' George asked himself. He wasn't frightened. Just confused. He assumed this dream might be a result of him staying in Phulas.

The old man didn't look like someone with bad intentions. He just looked dirty and malnourished. That's all. Well, if you ignore his excited grin, that is.

"What are you doing?" George asked when the old man suddenly stood and started dancing around him while humming an out of tune rhyme.

"I'm dancing. What else?" The old man replied.

"Well… I can see that." George thought chatting with him might not be a bad idea. Besides, there was nothing he could do other than wait till the dream ended. His aunt mentioned in passing before that dreams have meaning sometimes. "Oh! Be careful! You'll break your back." George exclaimed when the old man slipped.

"Hehe. Can't break your back if you don't have one in the first place." The old man replied while pulling his pants up to his waist.

"Okay?" Uh, I agree with that though I don't really get what you mean."

The old man ignored him and resumed dancing. Gliding across the small room and around him.

"Can you tell me your name, at least?"

The old man stopped and stared at him. Then the old man grinned before sauntering towards him. He brought his lips to George's ear. Flies hovered along with him making George flinch. "Yerribas the bloodless is what they call me. Don't let others know. It's our tiny secret."

"Yerribas… the bloodless?"

"Yes! Yes! Say it again!"

"Okay? Uh, Yerribas the bloodless?"

"Perfect! Now you just have to remember that." The old man, or rather, Yerribas said excitedly.

"Okay, I will. But why do they call you bloodless though? D'you have… no blood at all?" George started to notice less about the man's grotesque and dirty appearance. He started to get interested in him instead.

"I did. But not anymore." Yerribas nonchalantly said.

"How come?"

The old man grinned, flashing the few yellow teeth he had left. "You wanna know?" His voice was octave lower.

Although he was curious, George regrettably dismissed it. His guts told him a price must be paid for the information.

"No. I don't wanna know. Let me change my question then. Yerribas. Why are you in my dreams?"

Yerribas didn't answer immediately. He mulled over his answer first before saying, "Because I wanted to."

"Because you wanted to? What does that mean? Are you real?"

"As real as you are."

George became speechless. 'This dream is so freaking realistic,' he thought. There was a voice at the far back of his head yelling he got this all wrong. That this was too realistic to be a dream.

Of course, he ignored it.

"I wanna go back. Can you do that?" George decided to drop the topic. He just wanna stop dreaming about the old man. He wasn't interested anymore.

"Of course. But I wish you could sleep in the mornings too. It gets very lonely down here, you know?"

Then before George could even process what the old man said, next thing he knew, he was back to the Horsey Inn in Strawford Town. Staring at the ceiling.