The Vessel

Chapter 2 - The Ritual

Note: This is a work in progress and I will often publish edits here without notice. Sorry in advance for anything incongruous with the work as a whole!

2. The Ritual

"Paul, cut that light and be quiet!" A young man, naught more than seventeen, whispered. Sitting cross legged, his appearance was hidden beneath a dark hooded sweatshirt in the dimly lit room.

The subdued lighting made it difficult to see anything, let alone the four shadowed figures seated in evenly-spaced points within a circle drawn in chalk on the floor. An object with details obfuscated by the darkness, impossible to see with the naked eye, lay in the center of the ring, its importance to the group as of yet undeclared.

"Yeah, I got it, Billy" Paul responded. His school uniform, a black polo shirt and tan khaki pants, was a disheveled mess, noticeable even in the dull lighting. There was little doubt he had slept in his uniform for several days and, judging by the pattering of dirt that muddled his tanned skin, he hadn't showered in just as long.

Click! Paul flipped the light switch, casting the gloomy room into tangible darkness, the kind that plays tricks on the mind. The sound of the switch was a thunderous rapture, echoing in the endless, black cavern that was the room. Paul dragged his feet forward, arms outstretched, hands leading the way where eyes would normally suffice.

"Fuck!" Paul cried out, tears in his eyes; it wasn't so much pain as it was the surprise of it. He gnashed his forehead on the room's low hanging plumbing, hard enough to feel skin tear open and blood ooze down his forehead and face.

"Shut up, you clumsy idiot!" Shannon Adler said, her voice little more than a whisper. She sat to the left of Billy, with brunette hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and clothes to match a no-nonsense sports-team-captain-tomboy.

"SHHH!" Andria Abbot hissed, raising an index finger to her top lip. The youngest of the group, she was thrilled to sit next to Billy Brewer. She didn't much care about why they were there – just that she was happy to be near the elder Brewer, her first crush. Andria's father was somewhere above in the Holy Trinity congregation; she escaped the sermon, if only momentarily, after telling her father she had to use the bathroom. She neglected to share with her father the part about stealing a copy of the basement keys and sneaking in a group of her friends to conduct a ritual of their own, one that would not find the approval of those above.

Andria's reptilian vocalization gave the group pause. A good girl from a good family and dressed in an expensive skirt and silk blouse to match, she was less than interested in getting caught in the basement with troublemakers like Paul and Billy Brewer, both of whom were at the top of her father's long list of people for her to avoid.

The last member of the high-school-hermetic-entourage sat to the left of Shannon. Steve Wilbur was the sort of boy who was often bullied for having a skin tone that would inspire envy in Casper the Ghost, purveying the world through greasy Coke bottle lenses, being able to play connect the dots on his pustule-ridden face, having a figure sculpted from raw gelatin, and just in general being a fucking weirdo – he was the resident punching bag of the school toughs. Often referred to as Piggy, – at least in part because the smell of cooked bacon emanated from his person more often than not – he was the reason why the group was here: the promise of a communion with the Brewer's recently deceased matriarch.

Paul Brewer moved his way through the stifling darkness and took his predetermined place. The blood from his fresh head wound mottled his face in crimson, droplets of vitae spattering onto the floor beneath him, each drip and drop as loud as the notes played in a concert arena. The bedraggled teen made no attempt to staunch the wound; he quite liked the sensation. It reminded him of home, of a time when things were less complicated, when the family members he gave a shit about could still be counted among the living.