Snap Ritual

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Twisted plot for occultists.

Submitted: September 15, 2012

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Submitted: September 15, 2012

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  I decided to go to the park downtown and read my book. It was a nice day out and it sounded like a great idea. It was the weekend and I knew that the park would be crowded and full of people, but it was too nice out. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't hot. It was just perfect. I arrived, walked into a wooded section of the park and found me a nice tree to set under. Along with joggers, there were several groups of people out having picnics. Some were families, some were obvious lovers, but one group was a very motley bunch. Most people wouldn't be sure what to make of it. Most people would probably keep their distance. There was one thing about that group that I couldn't take my eyes off though. I don't know who could have. It was this very beautiful unique woman.

  She was someone that I thought would make a great companion to me. She was tall, slim, with long reddish brown hair. She was like a rock star, as she had full tattoo sleeves on her arms. They were full of color and they were as sexy as she was. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I tried to read my book, but it was hopeless. I would read a page, stop, then think back, and I couldn't remember a single thing on that page. So I just decided to pretend to read, but I was really watching her every move.

  The group, that my dream girl was in, continued to eat their food, talk, and just hang out at the pavilion they occupied. This went on for a couple of hours and I just sat there under my tree and watched. It was a short time later that they cleaned up their area, they did a great job, very neat, and then they packed up their stuff. It was at this point something happened that was to shock the whole city.

  Around the same area that I was sitting, and the pavilion they filled, was a large metal art structure. I am not sure what the piece of art was supposed to be, I think it was just some abstract art. It was a giant piece of flat steel, that was rough cut into some weird shape. It was left unfinished and was blanketed in rust. It wasn't something that had a meaning, it was just something that some guy randomly cut out with a plasma cutter and called it art.

  That obviously didn't stop this group from forcing some meaning to the strange object. Once their area was all cleaned up, they donned long black robes, held wooden sticks in their hands, and danced around this art structure, chanting something, and they performed this strange satanic ritual. They clearly praised the dark deity to shock of the onlookers. It wasn't a very long ritual. It was very quick. A few “hale satans” and they jumped into their own cars and all drove off in different directions.

  Once they were gone, They left a huge crowd in awe. The jaws of the people at the park were on the ground. As for me, I was kind of happy. I sat there and watched the entire thing from the start to finish. The other people that had crowded around, might had been lucky enough to be holding cameras, but they didn't get to see the whole thing. As I was infatuated with the tattooed girl, my eyes never left the group. I could identify everyone in the group, especially the hot girl.

  The next day, I was at my local convenience store. I picked up a newspaper because the top story was what I witnessed the day before. The first thing I noticed was the picture. It was a picture of people in robes pointing sticks to the art subject. You couldn't tell who the people were. You couldn't even tell if the people were men or women. I felt joy knowing that I was the only one that knew the faces of these people. I could tell which one in the picture was my girl.

  The funniest thing I read in the article was that the art piece was going to be removed because of all this. The group had achieved exactly what they intended to do, and that was to scare the hell out of the towns people. I guess they may have had other goals, like praising the horned one, but my guess it was mainly for a shock factor. They really didn't get the shock factor from me, it just didn't work. After all I saw them picnicking.

  As I walked to my car to fill my tank with gas, guess who was at the pump next to me filling their tank? It was the one I adored, the tattooed satanic art ritual girl. The girl of my dreams was five feet from me. I could barely place the nozzle into my car from staring at her and smiling ear to ear. She could tell that there were eyes on her. She looked up at me and returned my smile. I had to say something. There was no reason not to.

  “I just picked up the paper about you”, I stuttered. I could tell that she was shocked, but she pretended not to know what I was talking about. I explained to her that I was there at the park. I told her that I was sitting under a tree and I watched the entire thing. Of course she wanted me to explain what I was talking about, so I showed her the newspaper. She couldn't do anything but deny that she had anything to do with that ritual. All I did was to continue to tell my story about how I sat there and watch the entire thing. From the picnic to the ritual, I let her know that I saw it all, that I saw her.

  All of the sudden, she walked close to me. She explained that she was a reporter and she was investigating what happened the day before. I was asked to give her all the information I had. She said that she would even pay me for my story. “A reporter”, I replied. Was she really, I thought for a second I could have been mistaken, but I just figured she was trying to find out what I knew. I knew the answer, so I told her that I would inform her on everything I know, but she was not willing to do it in public. She told me that the group knew what she was doing. She said that the cult was watching her every move. She wanted to meet me that night. What did I care, I considered it a date. Maybe a strange date, but a date none the less.

  She asked me if I knew where Old Jefferson Road was. I did, it's a road that leads out into a rural area of the city. She wanted to meet me at the first crossroads that you come to after heading out from the city. I knew where she was talking about, so I agreed to meet her that night.

  The sun finally dropped and the stars came out. I took off down Old Jefferson Road and began my journey for the night. I must admit that there was an odd feeling in the air. I decided to turn on the radio and enjoy the adventure. The very first song that came on was The Eagles 'Hotel California'. Now I know that the story of the song being about a satanic cult, and their devil worshiping home, was an urban legend, but you would have to admit that there couldn't have been a better relating song to be played. It fit the mood so well. Here I am traveling down and old road, in the country, meeting up with a girl I saw perform a satanic ritual the day before. Well, a girl that says it wasn't her and that she was actually a reporter and wanted to interview me.

  The song ended up not to only be fitting, but prophetic. As I pulled up to the crossroads, that was about ten miles outside the city limit, there she stood. She wasn't in a “doorway”, she was just standing next to her car. I pulled up, she said to follow her, she got back into her car, and we drove off down what ever road that crossroad was.

  We pulled up to a house. Maybe this was Hotel California. I was ready for a feast and to stab it with my steely knifes. Unfortunately, it was not going to be that prophetic. She didn't light any candles, there was no wine, and nobody was dancing in a courtyard. As a matter of fact, there was no courtyard. We just went inside and sat on the couch. The truth was about to come out.

  Of course my thoughts were that the house was full of the rest of the satanic cult. I thought they might try to sacrifice me or something. I know that's what you were thinking reading this, but no. The girl told me something totally different than what she told me at the gas station. She told me that the girl I saw at the ritual was actually her twin sister.

  Up until the last year, they were inseparable. They were more than just sisters, they were best friends. They were the type of twins that did everything the same. They wore the same clothes, they wore their hair the same way, they even had the same tattoos. They lived together up until about a year ago. Her sister had made some really unfavorable friends and had grown really despondent. One day her sister was just gone and she learned that her sister had joined this cult. She had spent all this time trying to find her and get her out.

  Several times she had been mistaken for her in public. She has even impersonated her before trying to find information about her whereabouts. Doing this, she had been discovered and felt that they were after her. This is why she had said that she was a reporter. She used that premise to get me out of the urban light. This way she could ask me what I knew away from the ears that she said were following her. She wanted to know everything that I saw that day.

  I explained to her that I was sitting there trying to read a book, but was actually watching the group. I told her that the majority of the group was male. There were only two women there, one was her sister. The people were not all tattooed rock star looking people. Some were very ordinary looking. Some of them looked as though they could have been fathers or at least husbands. Some were typical working class people. The other girl was very plane. She wasn't ugly by no means, but she wasn't a raving beauty either. She was short, brown hair, somebody that could be easily forgotten. There was really only one other guy that looked like what the mass majority would call a freak. He had long jet black hair, tattoos, and was very tall. He was also the one that led the ritual upon the art construction.

  This girl also asked about the cars that they left in and if her sister left with someone. I did notice that she did not leave with anyone. The tattooed girl left by herself. I described the car that she left with, but I didn't get any license plate number. I must point out that the car that this girl was driving today, was not the car that I had seen the other girl leave in the day before.

  She was very curious about the car that the tall, black haired, tattooed man left in. She wanted to know if I could describe it. I had to tell her no. I really didn't care what that guy was driving, so I didn't even look. The only thing else I could remember about any vehicle was that the plane girl drove a truck. She could have actually been a country girl, so to speak. Maybe even someone that lives on a farm or something.

  After I told this girl everything that I knew, she told me what she knew. She said that this cult was called the 'Order Of The Black Stone'. There was a website that was operated by them. On their website, they claimed that there was going to be another park ritual in our sister city, but before that there was going to be a real satanic ritual at their secret ritual spot.

  She said she wanted to go to the last park ritual, but she had become really sick. This was something that the she believed was placed upon her by the cult. This was not something that I believed. I didn't think they had the power to make people ill.

  As I sat there not saying a word, she then told me that even though she didn't feel good that day, she was mainly scared. Her idea now was to show up at the upcoming ritual and take back her sister. I suggested to do it at the public park, of course, as it would be less dangerous, but that one was too far in the future for her to wait. She wanted to confront them at their secret place, she wanted to stand up to them.

  I knew what was coming next. She sat there and told me everything she knew, which was way more than the information I had. I knew there was an ulterior motive behind asking me there. She went on to explain that she wanted help, she wanted my help. She wanted me to go with her to the ritual and to watch her back.

  Before I could even throw out the idea of telling the police about the ritual, she let me know that it was on private property and technically there was nothing that they were doing that was illegal. That's why she wanted someone, preferably a man, to go out there with her. What the cult was doing might not be illegal, but what she was wanting to do was. Did it matter to me, not really. This was a girl that I thought was incredibly sexy. If it meant going onto someones property and confronting a group, I was there, I wasn't afraid. So of course I told her I would help. What else was I going to do?

  The secret private ritual was the next day. She told me that where it was taking place wasn't that far from the house we were in. I had said that I thought the other girl was kind of a country girl and may had lived more in a rural area. I was correct. She told me that the secret place was on her property, and only about five miles from this house. So we agreed that I would come the next night and we would go to the secret ritual spot.

  I left, and as I was leaving, I thought about how I could “check out any time, but I could never leave.”

  I went home, I slept, the next day I went back to the park and read my book. It was a little easier that time, as there was no sexy demonic goddess in front of me, but I couldn't help but think of her. The sun came and went, and I headed out to the girls house. Still those voices were calling from far away.

  I arrived at her house and this time she was standing in the doorway, but no mission bell. She came running up to my car and jumped in. I knew we were going to be taking my car, but that was fast. I pulled out of the dirt driveway and headed deeper into the country. She guided the way as she knew exactly where to go. I knew she had been there before.

  We came upon a gravel road and we entered. She told me to cut my lights, so I did. The dirt road came up to a house, but she told me not to stop but to continue. We passed the house and entered a cave of trees. The moon was out that night and I could see pretty good without my headlights, but the cave of trees made it a little harder.

  The road continued to an empty creek bed. The road actually dropped down to the creek and went back up the other side. I knew that my car could not make it down and back up that steep slope, but we weren't going there any way. She told me to take a right, a right onto a path that wasn't technically a road. It wasn't dirt or gravel. It was simply a spot where car tires had created a groove in the grass. The grooved path led to a pond, and that is where we stopped and got out.

  We headed back to the gravel road, following the trampled path, on foot. We got to the creek bed section of the road. It was a clumsy gait down the hill to the creek, then even with the momentum it was a staggering climb up the other side. Once at the top, we could see a large bonfire in the distance.

  Keeping to the trees, we traversed the edge of the creek top, holding our heads down as not to be noticed. It wasn't long until we had slipped up next to them. What we could see, other than the fire, was several people standing around in robes. They weren't doing much. There was no dancing, no chanting, it actually looked like they were just chatting.

  You couldn't tell by looking as to who was who. She told me that she couldn't tell which one was her sister. We just watched them and observed their actions, which wasn't much. I asked her what her plan was now. She stood up and took off running towards the group. What else was I supposed to do but follow her, so I did.

  She was yelling, calling out some female name, and running up to the group without any fear. The group turned to look at us and even then, the hoods on the robes hid the identities of these people. We came straight to the center of the group as they just stood around us in a circle.

  “Which one of these is your sister”, I asked. There was no reply. The only action was when one of them dropped the hood of their robe. It was the tall, black haired, tattooed guy. He didn't say anything. He just reached to the ground, picked up another robe, and tossed it to the girl I was with. She looked at me with a cold stare as she donned the robe herself. It was a set up, I wasn't that shocked though.

  At this point several of the robed people grabbed my arms, one of them wrapped his arms around my neck. The tall guy picks up a large dagger and starts chanting. The girl just stands next to him with a look of ecstasy of her face. Their objective was to trick someone into coming out there on their own free will, and they succeeded.

  There was no sister. The girl I came with was the girl from the park. It was all a lie and now they had me there alone. They spoke some badly pronounced Latin and few a “hale satans”. It was totally obvious that they had no idea what they are saying or doing. With a trick of their brains, it was time for my sacrifice. Soon I was to have a large dagger sticking into my chest.

  They dropped me to my knees. The leader raised the dagger above his head, the girl was in bliss, and the dagger was plunged deep into my chest. I was released, as they all stepped back, waiting for me to collapse to the ground. It didn't happen. I stood up, pulled the dagger from my chest and threw it to the ground. All I could do is laugh, and laugh I did, very manically.

  Their faces were now unobstructed from the robes, but very dumbfounded. It was my turn to enjoy watching them go from bliss to a stupor. It was their turn to be shocked and it was about to get better. At least for me.

  The pain that was supposed to be inflicted to me, by the dagger, was now channeled outward to the group. The shock on their faces from me not dying were now changing to a face of pain. They clutched their chests and they all fell to the ground. All of them dead. I just walked back to my car and left.

  If you are going to worship me, just do it. I don't need to hear any mumbo jumbo, I don't need any chanting, I don't need any dancing, I don't need anyone tricking any unsuspected fool out into the woods so that they could be slaughtered.

  I did like the snap ritual though. Freaking out the public was a nice touch.


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