GuNNhead

I thought it would be so easy. There were cults, offshoots throughout history, recent history even: an easy way to mislead people through their beliefs. Give them some sort of hope, a way to fight the world at large, to fight back for themselves how I did. I struggled and I overcame. I was never the best person, but I certainly wasn’t the worst. I worshipped the worst. I wanted to lead others in this. I also wanted to get rich in the process, but that’s not a bad thing, is it? Greed, it was a tool to aid my master. Satan. Heck, it was worth a shot, I already had a nice house a distance away from the nearest neighbour, secluded in the hills.

Getting followers was the easy part, a lot of people want to worship, but where to do it? They wanted, needed and desired a community. The feeling of belonging. I felt that within myself. These people, lost in their lives of depression could not. I guided them. Outfits, donations. I truly built something, and before long, I felt that I belonged as well. In my attempt to attain money, I’d attained friends within the honouring of the devil, our dark lord. I felt a part of a community. I felt bad for manipulating these people. We were together in satanic rituals and so much more.

Before long, I’d made friends, I was in power. I was Satan’s messenger. Chosen by myself. They were my followers. One in particular was truly devout in her faith, Christina. She followed the rites to the letter, and soon became my second in command. She was an amicable lass, very even-tempered. I could never tell if she truly worshipped satan, or was merely faking the hardest to fit in. Most of the people, I could tell. It was an alternative way to fit in, not a belief. I’d question my beliefs; I knew I was in it for the money, though I never let on. The people had too much faith in me, there was no question in them that I could possibly not be who I said I was, that my belief ran straight through my soul, even before that one night…

Everyone was gathered together in the circular ritual room, and we all started to chant, Christina, the virgin was beginning to worry… we could smell the fear in her sweat… our chanting became louder and louder. I led them as they all began to violently grab at each other and stimulate one another; the ground began to cave in and Satan emerged. His gigantic, raging hard, veiny erection ripped through the virgin as she screamed out in agony, but knew that what she was doing was what she was born to do: sacrifice her body to Satan.

Some nights before the end, I began to have nightmares; horrific dreams of the sound of screams. Babies being torn from mother’s wombs, raped, mutilation. The smells, oh god the smells. I could never have fathomed these without the aid of hell. Sulphur; the innards of a man, mixing. These things have no correlation, they are guttural, when I smelt them, I knew them all too well. I woke up to her, Christina, my follower looming over me, staring, but, upon closing my eyes and reopening, there would be nothing. My door, locked. I ignored it at first.

The other occultists had been looking at me differently, but not in a suspicious manner. More of a hunger for more. I still had plenty to feed them. The book of Satan is a large one, after all. Teaching and learning are much the same process, and I guided them with what I had learned from my readings. Ways to live best. It was the touching that disturbed me the most. When I would walk by some of the members, a brush upon me was felt. There were smiles exchanged. What should have been warm and welcoming somehow felt cold and foreboding. It was then that their faces came to me after nightmares. More and more faces, always after the smell, the horror.

It was the final night that I saw their faces over my bed before the hellfire enveloped me, and hell came calling. The smiles of my once-followers grew rows of demoniac teeth, and horns erupted from their temples and foreheads. Each of my bones were broken by invisible forces. The flesh tore from my body, and I was bathed in sulphuric salts. This was no nightmare, this was the price I was to pay, for a life of mine, I would be in an eternity of His.

Synopsis:
A man begins a satanic cult in order to worship satan (and make a boatload of money while he’s at it). But slowly, things start going wrong. The occultists begin to act differently, without explanation. Soon, the leader’s position as the head of the cult is in sincere danger as things much deeper than the wallets of his followers is at stake.

This entry was posted on May 11, 2011 at 3:33 am and is filed under Fiction, Horror. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.