CREED

PROLOGUE

"All hail to Satan, for thy throne belongs to you!"

Praises and cheers for Satan filled the hall, along with the eerie vibe it brings. People of all sorts were bowing and chanting some dark prayers to a huge demonic altar in front of them, they wore long white clothes, and their heads barely seen due to the extended white hat. As the followers of Satan kept on chanting words, a number of them started to sway their bodies, still keeping their prayer stance. That is a sign that the demons are starting to give them inhumane powers through possessing their bodies.

I was standing far behind the rest, watching and observing. I was there, absorbing all the lessons that my parents commanded me to follow, and I listened. Events and rituals such as this became a normal thing to me at a very young age, and I am aware of what will happen to us if we were caught. Perhaps, my parents liked the sense of thrill. Doing dangerous things, being totally free, and no one to witness all of it.

I knew things that a normal teenager shouldn't know and do, so am I still human? I am, my appearance says so as well, but this shell is empty. I desired neither power, immortality, destruction and the likes, I'm empty through and through. I have a soul, but no will to nourish it for good, I was taught to only listen and not disobey. I know no God nor ruler of this world. Satan, Christ? I cared neither of them, they can take their fight somewhere else and leave me alone.

My eyes glanced sideward as I saw a woman in her 40's walked near me. The sound of her footsteps was heavy and it brings me not happiness, but those of terror. She was way taller than me, and despite her age, she looks young and healthy. As usual, she looked at me with such coldness that I never yearned.

I glanced to the floor then back to her eyes as a sign of disappointment. "Is there something that bothers you?", she asked in a motherly tone. She talks to me as if she was just like any other caring mother, but to me, it meant something else. She wanted to make sure if her doll was functioning according to her wishes.

"I just skipped dinner, it's nothing to worry about, Mother" I spoke. Her fake smile faded as she got what she wanted to hear.

" Call your aunt, we need to talk." She paused, "I want a young, gorgeous prey." She demanded at last as she passed by me.

"As you always wish." I answered, accepting her command. Kids should obey their parents because that is morally correct, or should they?

I am currently heading to see my aunt, the last room on the basement. My shoes echo on the cemented floor as I enter the hall of our basement. Every step I take brings an eerie reaction between the boundaries between the living and the dead. Many have come to this hideout, but few returns alive. The hallway has a minimum lights open so it wasn't that bright, and the same goes inside my aunt's room.