We stood in a circle, all watching the man before us. He spoke in hushed tones, mystical words that I did not understand. Phrases of ancient origin. Raptly we absorbed his words, swaying lightly to the melody of his voice. It was hypnotic, catching us all in a spell. The pentagram in the centre of the circle was drawn with white chalk, lines crossing the coarse boards of the floor. Five black candles stood in each corner, casting flickering shadows on the bare walls behind us.
From the outside I heard a horse carriage pass by over the cobblestones. A sound so typical for this part of the city where nobody could afford one of the rare automobiles. The sound disappeared into the thick fog that covered the night, lending another eerie aspect to the ritual before us. I cast a glimpse out of the window and saw the street deserted beneath us. The only thing alive was the flickering gas lamps barely able to penetrate the gloom. It was like the night had just gotten darker.
The thin shift I wore scratched my soft skin. Made of coarse hemp, it barely served to keep out the damp and cold of the room. I dared a quick glance at the others standing in the circle. All young women as myself, barely come into adulthood. Completely absorbed by the man before us, the saviour we called him. All eyes were fixed upon him. I seemed to be the only one not completely caught up in the ritual and his voice. Would what we attempted fail due to my lack of concentration?
I forced myself to focus. Shutting out the voice of a stray dog barking somewhere down the street. When the chant began, my voice joined the chorus and as the words got stronger I felt myself get caught up in the ritual. Odd sensations swept through my body and I felt my head become lighter, as if I was separating myself from my flesh. Only his voice mattered, only his voice was heard. There was nothing else. Thrills made me shiver, an anticipation stronger than anything I had previously known. Unknown sensations which I didn't have words for.
"Close your eyes and listen only to my voice," his voice seemed like a ray of bright light, "listen to my voice and feel how you become lighter and lighter." I swayed and lost even more contact with my physical self. "My voice is your guide, it is your light, your beacon. Heed it and become one with the energy building right here in the centre. Feel it, feel how the light is extending to embrace you all. Feel how the bright light is coming to take you."
With my eyes closed, I only listened to his voice; absorbed, taken, seduced. He kept on chanting in low tones, the words impossible to catch. It felt like I floated above myself, only connected by a slight overlap. What a magnificent experience, so unique and special. All I sensed before my closed eyes was the light he had described. Like a bright flame before us, filling the entire pentagram, outshining the light from the candles. Blinding, strong.
His voice seemed to shift around, and yet, I knew he was standing in the circle. It wove around us like the morning fog at the shore. Fingers extended, touching the naked branches and single leaves left after the last storm. For each verse he chanted, the light seemed to become brighter, more intense, as did his words. He sounded excited, anticipating what would come. I wasn't sure of what precisely this ritual was about. But I trusted him, as we all did. He had a talent to make people trust him and follow him. He was our saviour, our liberator, the one who could bring us further than we had ever dreamt about.
Suddenly I felt his hand over my mouth. He stood behind me. I tensed, returning to my body with a snap. "Trust me," were the only words he whispered to my ear. Instantly I relaxed, my heartbeat slowed and I savoured his touch. I doubt any of us had not longed for that touch, that embrace at some point during these last months while we prepared for this ritual. I felt my knees grow weak and new thrills raked my body. A feeling I couldn't put a name to. I just know I savoured his touch, desired more of it. "That is much better, my little angel," he placed a light kiss upon my neck as his breath warmed my skin.
Something cold press against my throat, and then a sharp pain soared through me. I tried to scream, but my voice would not work. I felt heat rise in my head before growing lighter and lighter. The last I remembered was his hand gently catching me as I lost my balance. He lowered me to the floor. The world grew dark.
Vision returned. I was standing. Without comprehension I looked around me, trying to understand where I was and what was going on. The candles had burned low, they were the first to draw my attention. I stared at the flames for a while, my gaze darting between them. Then I remembered. The pain. I raised my hand to my throat, but felt nothing. Confused I looked around, for the first time shifting my attention outside the pentagram. That was when I saw it.
The man, our saviour cradled one of the girls in his arms, her white shift was stained dark. I realized then it was blood. Her throat had a gabing wound and the blood poured from it. He lowered her to the ground and stood up. A very satisfied smile made his face look horrific. He was panting and trembling, filled with an unfamiliar energy. He licked his lips and sucked the knife held clean for blood.
I screamed, loudly, wanting to run away from the scene. But I could not move. My feet would not obey me. He didn't react to my voice. He walked around the circle kneeling briefly by each body lying on the floor. A kiss placed upon their foreheads as he sliced open the shifts, revealing the naked bodies underneath. Young bodies which had never known the touch of a man before. He gazed upon what was revealed to him and then cut off a bloody strip. Slowly he made his way around the circle and with horror I saw him kneel next to me. I stepped back, fearful he would kill me. But he gave the body at my feet the same treatment as the others, the kiss, the revelation, the souvenir and moved on.
With sudden realization I knew it was my own body lying before me. I was dead. Again horror tried to voice itself, but only silence answered. Now I noticed the others standing with a confused look on their faces. Unseeing, uncomprehending, not understanding.
He left the room and the bodies behind. One long wishful glance at the scene before he closed the door behind him. I heard him walk down the stairs and onto the street below. Now I could move and rushed to the window seeing him disappearing into the fog. A dog growled from an alley. Numbly I stood there. Having a difficult time comprehending what had happened. How I had gotten involved in this. Trying to understand this deep betrayal of not only myself, but of the six other girls in the room.
No comments:
Post a Comment