The Cult

There is a group of people who no longer know what civilization was like. They had chosen to venture out into the woods, to follow that voice that called to them, asking for an army to build. They gave in, each of them possessing an unknown darkness that hid within them. They were afraid to touch this part of themselves, but the voice claimed that they would be welcomed with open arms, into a fold where they would no longer feel alone. 

A man named Charlie, had followed the voice, with his sister. He had no memory of what his life was like in the past, only that his father harmed his sister, and his mother allowed it. Charlie remembered being bathed in red as he ran away with his sister into the darkness, holding a butcher's knife that he used on his father. His sister held her own, that had been used on their mother. They were alone. Afraid. Cold. Scared. 

Then the voice was there, and they followed it. 

And they found him. 

He had a dark smile, but it was inviting. He opened his arms to both of them, calling them his children. Charlie and his sister stepped into his arms, and they now had a place to call home. They now live in the woods, along with many strangers who had been welcomed. Each of them had done something bad, but there was no judgement. They had built their village, each of them living inside of a tent. Even the one who called to them lived in a tent, to show that they were not alone.

Charlie and his sister became one of his Chosen. He had selected five of them, each of them given the title of a leader. They would look after the people who joined them, and would ensure that nothing would ever go wrong. If anyone began to feel that they did not belong, they would be brought to the voice, and Charlie would look away, not wanting to see the punishment they would endure. 

The voice had three other companions that helped stood by him. 

Like him, none of them were human. 

All three of them did look human, and wore clothes that humans would wear. But something was wrong with the way they would stand. 

Or look at you. 

None of them had taken a shower in ages. Each of their hair was in tangles, but the female made the effort to brush her hair, even though the comb wouldn't do much for her. She was no longer beautiful, like she had been a decade ago. Her face was covered in blood, grime, and dirt, because taking souls would tire her so. 

The male that looked young like the female looked the worst. His mouth was constantly covered in blood and meat, from either humans or animals. He was always hungry, and would scamper off into the woods for a feast, or eagerly consume a person who would fall out of line. 

The tallest male was the scariest one. His long black hair hung in his face, but if you looked closely in the dark, you could see his black eyes peeking through his hair. He would always stand a bit slanted, like that of a moody teenager that didn't want to be shopping for groceries with his mother. Yet, he was quite wise, and would always listen to the voice. Every time the voice would speak, the tall male would tilt his head, like that of a puppy listening to its master. He carried a long sword, and would use it to skin people alive, or he would use his own hands to tear you apart. 

Only if the voice told him to, he would do all of these things. 

Charlie wasn't sure which of these things he was most afraid of. His sister was bold, not afraid to speak with any of the three. The voice she would also speak to, almost lovingly, treating him like the father she never had. Charlie thought he would detect moments of annoyance from the one who spoke to them, but his sister was oblivious to this. Charlie himself found her irritating at times, but he would never strike her in the presence of the voice. He once did, when they first arrived. 

His sister was crying, and Charlie regretted it. But the voice told him that sometimes it was good to fight back. To let his frustrations go. Charlie did not listen, but he did not dare try to leave. The thought of getting killed by either of the four was awful, and he never dared to voice out his thoughts. 

But the one who brought them there knew this. 

Charlie could tell by the way that he would look at him, as Charlie would go about his daily tasks, helping people in the village, feeling those eyes stabbing through the back of his head. The voice once asked him to enter his tent, while the village was asleep. He was sitting on his own bed, beckoning him closer. Charlie complied, a bit grateful that the other three were not there. But the grin on the face of the voice wasn't a pretty sight. 

The voice looked like a young kid, in his late teens. The one who spoke would take on this form, to make the village comfortable around him. This didn't make Charlie feel any better, as the voice caressed his face lovingly, with a finger across his cheek. His hands were that of an old woman, with long nails that did not belong on a child. 

"You can't leave, Charlie. Remember what you did. What you and your sister did. That dirty thing that you both created. Hiding behind a sweet smile that wears a white dress. What would your father think? You are no better than him."

Charlie did not know that he was crying, as the voice kissed him on the forehead. He had awoken hours later, confused how he made he made it back to the tent. The girl that called him daddy was waking him up, telling him that mommy had already left the tent to speak with the other Chosen ones. Charlie smiled at her, and told her to wait for him. He picked up his tools, and walked outside, asking a random neighbor to look after the thing that is now his daughter. 

An abomination that never should have been created that night, but his sister came to him in the middle of the night, wanting his comfort. Charlie dreamt of wrapping his arms around her throat after that night, blaming her for what they did. But the voice was right, he had only taken the place of his father. 

He arrived at the tent of the voice, and a man was waiting inside, on his knees, along with his entire family. His wife, and his young boy. The voice, and the other three were waiting inside, each of them smiling at Charlie. His sister was there too, with the other Chosen. She was smiling at Charlie, tears glistening in her eyes, as she held a wire in her hands. Charlie set down his tool bag, and removed a wire as well. The voice gave the order. 

Charlie and his sister stood behind the wife and husband, and brought the wire around their necks. They dug into their flesh with the wire, making each of them screech behind the gags laced around their mouths. Charlie does not feel a thing after the task is done, as the woman's head falls down. His sister takes hold of his hand after the man's head is removed, and she watches with a wicked gleam, as the voice proceeds to remove his own wire for the child. 

Charlie holds tight onto his sister's hand, picturing himself puncturing a knife into her wrist, removing the hand that would dare to touch him. That would dare to look at him in that way. 

Charlie bit back a sob, as the child began to scream. 

He did not wear a gag like his parents. 

The voice preferred to hear the young ones scream. 

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Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn