The Ceremony

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

Candles lined the entryway, balancing comfortably on beds of salt, dripping molten, white wax to the floor. Everything was ready, and everyone was there.

They dawned their black ceremonial robes, bell sleeves getting too close for comfort to the flames. The fire wouldn't be the thing that burns them.

The matriarch prepared the pentagram - murmuring incantations as she placed each sacrificial object. Each point of the star was strategically graced with the offerings. Lamb heart on the top, one goat horn to the left, and another to the right. At the foot of the star: a virgin's tooth and a steers tongue.

"Let us join hands."

They all stepped forward, circling the pentagram. They took deep breaths, waiting for the signal.

The matriarch raised her hands to the ceiling and everyone followed suit.

Age, dulcis daemonia -

Oblationem nostram suscipe

Et da nobis iuventutem.

Nos, famuli tui

Ipsi ligare ad vos.

In hac vita,

Et in posteritate.

Sic nos adiuva -

There was a bang outside.

"I'm telling you, man. There's some cool shit in here, just wai-"

The door crashed open and all the candles blew out.

Two adolescents had their phone lights shining into the dark, looking upon the scene like deer in headlights.

"No!" The matriarch howled. A wind whipped around the room. Salt scattered across the floor, whispering curses where it fell.

A high-pitched screaming surrounded everyone - they fell to their knees and covered their ears.

The matriarch's eyes rolled into the back of her head.

"I'm so proud of you all."

Latin Translation:

Come forward, sweet demon -

Accept our offering

And grant us youth.

We, your servants

Bind ourselves to you.

In this lifetime,

And the after.

So help us -