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-
- D a m n e d F u c k i n g S h i t
-
- - Presents -
-
- Issue #53
- Date: 8/26/95
- Title: The Ritual
- Author: Vald The Impaler
-
- The Ritual
- ==========
-
- Disclaimer: I'm not satanic.
-
- Everything was quiet. Even the crackling of the fire seemed
- to silence itself as I withdrew the gleaming silver blade from its
- black velvet covering. My hooded face reflected in the polished
- surface of the cold silver, black eyes gleaming in pleasure at the
- thought of what I was finally getting my chance to do. The chanting
- started around me, the four other cloaked figures slowly moving into
- position around the table. I closed my eyes and began the chant as
- well, the deep baritone of my voice overpowering the others this
- night as my tongue recited the familiar words. We took our positions
- around the table, myself at the head with the others in a pentagram
- formation encircling the stone altar. My eyes shot open, my voice
- rising yet louder as I began weaving intricate patterns in the air
- with the ancient blade.
- Below me lay the unconscious form of our willing sacrifice. He
- was heavily sedated, not wishing to feel the pain that he would have
- to endure otherwise. He had asked us to help him attain his place
- of power over others in the netherworld. He knew who his master
- was, and chose to embrace him with open arms rather than run from
- him as so many others did. He wanted to be the master of his death,
- not a slave to it. This night, I was to set him free.
- From my pocket I withdrew a black leather pouch. I loosened the
- drawstring and removed a pinch of the fine yellow powder contained
- within, a mixture of the burnt remains of past sacrifices to the
- unholy lord. I opened my friend's mouth and sprinkled the ash upon
- his relaxed tongue, letting his saliva turn the powder into a
- brownish paste. His mouth closed itself as his head fell back onto
- the stone altar. I returned the pouch to my robe, then withdrew a
- small steel circlet in the shape of a pentagram. This I put into a
- bowl of water boiling above a strong fire next to the altar. We waited
- then, chanting the entire time, giving praise to this one who would go
- forth into the netherworld and become like a god unto others, the
- poor condemned souls who were not strong enough to realize their full
- potential in death.
- When the time came, I reached into the scalding water and removed
- the unholy symbol of power. My hand was scorched lightly, but when I
- positioned the charm upon my friend's exposed chest, the skin under
- the heated metal began to hiss softly as burn blisters formed. I again
- picked up the knife from where I had unconsciously laid it next to his
- head. The four hooded figures backed away from the table, giving me
- room to move freely about the sedated man lying supine upon his altar
- of sacrifice. I circled to the left, lightly tracing a line from his
- forehead to the simmering pentagram upon his chest, never breaking the
- surface of his skin.
- The chanting of the other four men silenced as I began to speak my
- own verses in a tongue not known to men, not even known to myself. My
- pulse quickened as the words came to me, echoing supernaturally in my
- mind and burning there until they were released by my speaking them.
- My hand raised unbidden by me to place the dagger above my friend's
- forehead. I lowered the gleaming blade to touch his skin, making a
- small indentation in the smooth surface of his forehead before drawing
- blood. The sharp blade easily pierced the thin layer of skin above his
- skull, although little blood flowed. I traced a line down his nose,
- dividing his lips in perfect symmetry, forcing a thin line of crimson
- to appear wherever the blade had touched. I slid the blade gently down
- his neck, my steady hand cutting no deeper than the skin for I was not
- to end his life just yet.
- Blood began to flow with more strength than it had upon his head,
- surging out in small rivulets to the beating of his heart. I
- continued quickly now, knowing that if he perished before I was through
- with the vivisection he would not be assured his rightful place of
- power over the dead. I continued to draw the red line down from his
- neck to his chest. The iron pentagram had long since cooled, but when
- I removed it from his chest the skin underneath continued to sizzle
- with an unholy heat of it's own. Never slowing the pace of the blade,
- I bisected the symbol of our lord branded upon my friend's chest, and
- continued downward without pause. I passed the bottom of his rib cage
- and was surprised at the supernatural ease with which I cut through
- the muscle of his abdomen while not damaging any of his organs inside.
- I felt filled with power - not merely the feeling of mastery over life,
- but the feeling of a greater power joining me, a greater power guiding
- my ritualistic movements.
- The razor-sharp blade seemed to remove itself from his flesh as I
- completed the cut, dripping a single deep red drop of my friend's life
- blood as I inspected the perfect line running from the top of his
- forehead to the bottom of his abdomen. Low chanting began behind me,
- and I remembered the other members of my cult who had fallen silent as
- I made the long cut down our sacrifice's body. They circled uniformly
- to the other side of the altar, their bare feet hardly making a sound
- underneath their heavy robes. I made a second cut below his rib cage,
- quickly changing the single original line into the greater part of
- an unholy cross upon his body. Then he moaned softly.
- I faltered slightly, trying not to be distracted by the fact
- that his life was slipping quickly away. I knew that this was what
- he wanted, what we all wanted, but I still had a twinge of guilt
- about killing another human. The feeling faded quickly though as
- foreign powers within me told me that this was right. They reminded
- me that he would have power in death, but that I would have a great
- power over death myself once I passed from this plane, if I would
- prove I already have some mastery over life. My cut across his
- abdomen complete, I moved to the middle of his chest and traced the
- lines that the scalding-hot pentagram had left in his skin without
- further qualms.
- Two disciples moved to stand on either side of him, and I
- positioned myself over his head. They reached forward, tracing the
- line I had made across his chest, and took hold of his skin where
- the two cuts met. His flesh tore sickeningly as they pulled the
- skin away from his rib cage, exposing the bloody white bones
- underneath. I leaned forward with the knife still in my hand, and
- began to cut through the tough cartilage between his ribs. Logic
- kept telling me it would not work, but as my brain told me I was
- attempting the impossible powerful forces within me easily guided
- the ritual blade through bone and cartilage, creating an impossibly
- perfect line through his sternum. The two hooded figures reached
- forward and pulled back on his ribs. The bones did not wield much
- strength though against hands guided by our dark lord, and they
- were pried back to reveal his beating heart inside.
- Even though he must have been completely drained of blood from
- the cuts, his heart still beat strongly. I felt power deep
- inside me as I knew what I must do. The others backed away and
- turned to the woods about us, a horribly powerful voice inside each
- of us telling us that none other than he who wielded the blade
- may witness this act. I raised the knife high above my head, a
- drop of blood falling in slow motion to land upon the sacrifice's
- forehead, spattering tiny droplets of blood outward from the cut
- that divided his face in two.
- I closed my eyes, drawing power from the dark presence I felt
- within my soul. Slowly, I opened them again, and saw before me the
- face of a man different than that of my friend, different from that
- of any mortal being. The cut was there, the beating heart was the
- same, but what lay before me was the essence of evil, dormant,
- waiting to take the soul of his host back to hell with him. He was
- the ultimate evil escort; Satan himself come to take my friend back
- to hell, and his eyes were open and staring into mine. I nearly
- panicked at the sight, feeling all willpower and strength drain from
- my body, mind, and soul. I had never once felt fear before in my
- life, but looking into the eyes of evil incarnate nearly stopped the
- beating of my heart.
- Terror gripped me, but a power did too. My mind was no longer
- my own. My body became taken by another. My soul itself seemed to
- be controlled by the dark presence before me. I no longer needed
- urging from my lord, I no longer needed directions. The dark angel
- before me was in control now, directing my body where he would have it
- go. No longer myself, I leaned forward and plunged the silver blade
- through my friend's beating heart, I the unwilling master over life
- and death.
-
-
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