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The Ritual
#WritcoStoryChallenge
I blinked as I regained consciousness. Had I hit my head hard, or had someone hit me? Then I realised I was holding a bloody knife in my hand...
The room was still spinning as my sight drifted more and more to my center. I gazed down at the knife, perplexed.
"What the fuck?" I whispered to myself, expecting a reply. "Who's blood is this?"
I quickly check myself for wounds or lacerations. I found nothing...
"Johnathan." A feminine voice echoed in the hall like tthe enthralling song of a siren at the foot of an ever expansive sea. "There you are, y'all had me worried."
A tall, thin blonde woman in her late 20's entered the room, her face was soft and pleasant like the palate of an autumn sunset and she moved like jungle cat in the depths of the hunt. Still something was off about her, there was a glazed look to her icy blue eyes and she spoke with an insincerity that shook me to my core.
"Who...who are you?" I shuddered as she moved in, taking the crimson soaked knife out of my hand.
"Margaret, dear." She replied in a coy, playful tone. "Don'cha remember me, silly."
Margaret ran her hand through my hair and brushed her cold fingers along my cheek.
"I was the girl you killed, in the ritual." She grinned. "You ran off so quickly after I died, I wanted to make sure you were okay."
I stuttered backwards, nearly tripping over my own feet. My head was swimming through an inconceivable sludge of blackened, bastard thoughts. What had I done? Why did I do it? Is this really happening?
"W...wh...what do you mean?! "The words fell out of my mouth. "I...I killed you?"
She giggled, blowing me a kiss.
"Of course you did." Margaret chuckled. "We all die to be in His presence, to fuel His glory."
She stepped toward me, nearly catching me midfall. We locked eyes, chills rolled up and down my spine like an avalanche burrowing into my soul. Our lips pressed together for what felt like and eternity, but was in reality mere seconds.
"But there still is one left to give his essence to The Great One." She softly told me as she clenched my body close to hers.
Suddenly her tongue transformed into a sharp tentacle. She smiled in a horrifying Chelsea Grin as her "tongue" screwed deep into my swollen, bleeding hea....
© 2020 R.A. McKinnley
I blinked as I regained consciousness. Had I hit my head hard, or had someone hit me? Then I realised I was holding a bloody knife in my hand...
The room was still spinning as my sight drifted more and more to my center. I gazed down at the knife, perplexed.
"What the fuck?" I whispered to myself, expecting a reply. "Who's blood is this?"
I quickly check myself for wounds or lacerations. I found nothing...
"Johnathan." A feminine voice echoed in the hall like tthe enthralling song of a siren at the foot of an ever expansive sea. "There you are, y'all had me worried."
A tall, thin blonde woman in her late 20's entered the room, her face was soft and pleasant like the palate of an autumn sunset and she moved like jungle cat in the depths of the hunt. Still something was off about her, there was a glazed look to her icy blue eyes and she spoke with an insincerity that shook me to my core.
"Who...who are you?" I shuddered as she moved in, taking the crimson soaked knife out of my hand.
"Margaret, dear." She replied in a coy, playful tone. "Don'cha remember me, silly."
Margaret ran her hand through my hair and brushed her cold fingers along my cheek.
"I was the girl you killed, in the ritual." She grinned. "You ran off so quickly after I died, I wanted to make sure you were okay."
I stuttered backwards, nearly tripping over my own feet. My head was swimming through an inconceivable sludge of blackened, bastard thoughts. What had I done? Why did I do it? Is this really happening?
"W...wh...what do you mean?! "The words fell out of my mouth. "I...I killed you?"
She giggled, blowing me a kiss.
"Of course you did." Margaret chuckled. "We all die to be in His presence, to fuel His glory."
She stepped toward me, nearly catching me midfall. We locked eyes, chills rolled up and down my spine like an avalanche burrowing into my soul. Our lips pressed together for what felt like and eternity, but was in reality mere seconds.
"But there still is one left to give his essence to The Great One." She softly told me as she clenched my body close to hers.
Suddenly her tongue transformed into a sharp tentacle. She smiled in a horrifying Chelsea Grin as her "tongue" screwed deep into my swollen, bleeding hea....
© 2020 R.A. McKinnley
