The Sacrifice

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story about a man and his final moments before his unwilling sacrifice

Submitted: July 13, 2017

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Submitted: July 13, 2017

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(Sorry for any mistakes I missed, I was in a rush to post this)
 
A brilliant choir was pulsating ominous music, as I was dragged upon the rocky floor. I could not see due to the bag covering my head, but the ringing of distant voices was enough to paint a terrifying image in my mind. The shuffling of feet, and words in tongues unbeknownst to me, although I presumed it was Latin. I was dragged by my arms, and despite all the pulling and shoving, I was strangely calm. They had looked me away in a dark and wet cell for god knows how long, so I had plenty of time to dwell upon the matters at hand. The choir singing seemed to be growing louder, I assumed I was approaching my final destination. After a few minutes of pulling and constant dragging over a bumpy and rocky floor, I was slumped onto the floor. This room had a different atmosphere. The rest of this location felt decrepit and cold. This room had a strange warmth to it, and an even more evil presence seemed to lurk in its shadows. The singing was now silent. I heard doors close, large wooden doors that closed with a natural and woodlike "thunk" At this point, I was rather bored, even though I was anticipating something great. Once more I was grabbed, but this time I was brought to my feet.
 
 The bag over my head was quickly ripped off, almost hurried and impatient like. While my eyes slowly adjusted to the moody lighted, I realised that this empty and evil room was quite full. On either side stood masked people, dressed in black gowns. They all stared at me. I felt their wicked smiles beneath their black masks. The room was eerily silent, but the large wooden doors suddenly opened and in entered a rather old man, presumably in his 60's, dressed in strange white robes. He walked towards me with a slow leisurely pace. He stared at me as he walked past, drawing my focus onto him. As he slowly passed me I turned and was met with a horrible sight. There was an altar, around the size of the average man. There were easily hundreds of red candles on the walls in small crevices, their flames dancing in the damp air. What was even more disturbing was the abundance of more cloaked and masked people. The old man walked up the steps to the altar and bowed, and whispered a few quiet words. He then turned around to face myself and the other occupants. He raised out his arms, seemingly to resemble Christ on the cross. He muttered a few words, of which were not my language. Then he snapped his eyes upon me and lowered his hand to point right at me. He gestured his fingers towards himself and at once I was grabbed from behind. My legs could barely support my own weight to stand, so I let them drag me. I was rushed up the steps by two rather strong men and finally thrown onto the altar. Once they had correctly positioned my limbs, I was locked into place by cold metal shackles.
 
 
 
The old man slowly made his way around to the altar, so that he was presenting himself to everyone. He nodded slowly towards a masked figure, and at once the singing began again. This time it was much more clear. I could hear all the intricacies of the mix. The low and growling bass notes. The ringing high notes. The candle lit room and the breath of the music had created such an interesting scene. I heard some rattling and turned to see the old man brandishing a large and rather demonic looking blade. It was thick and curved. It was adorned with small red rubies. The singing was gaining volume, the old man seemed to be chanting some strange words once more. As he raised his hands ever further into the air, the singing kept getting louder. Now the singing was enormous, it filled the air with its suspense and tension. The man then screamed one final word, which the meaning of said word I did not possess, and with all his might, pushed the large black dagger right into my chest cavity. At that exact moment, the singing ceased. There was no sound. All I felt was the horrible sensation of my lungs being pierced, an intense burning pain grew in my chest and up my throat, ending with an explosion of dark, rich red blood spewing out my mouth and onto the man's face. I had created a horrible picture. The old man's stained bloody face, staring into my eyes. His smile was incredible. More blood kept spewing out, I felt its warmth on my neck, streaming down my face. Then suddenly, the dagger was removed from my chest. I watched as it was raised into the air, strings of blood still attached. Blood was still flowing from my mouth, as I was heaving and coughing in a pathetic attempt to breathe. The man then moved towards my head, the dagger now hanging right above my forehead. Despite all my movements, we still managed to lock eyes. I watched as my own blood ran down his face, and stared as it dropped innocently onto my forehead. And with a sudden, yet grateful movement, his plunged the dagger into my head. The last thing I heard was the cracking of my skull and the bizarre sharp pain of the dagger entering my brain. Just one brief second of incredible pain and that disgusting, putrid crack.


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