Falling Embers (Abandoned)

Chapter Two: The Gathering

Chapter Two: The Gathering

The satanic gathering was nothing like what she had expected. There were no human sacrifices or chanting, and it was most certainly unlike a church sermon. It was just three or four young covens conjoined together in an abandoned parking lot, kibitzing with one another while one or two of them at a time approached the makeshift altar to converse with Satan. November stayed mostly silent, watching the proceedings and reading each individual’s aura. The violet of curiosity was present in those who took notice of her as was the customary black she had grown inured to associating with Satanists. Other than this, however, their auras were deeply unremarkable. They were no different than any other group of young adults. She wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected, but the normalcy of it all came as quite a shock. When it came time for Justin to speak with their over lord she unwillingly relinquished her grip on his arm, wary of being alone. This seemed to please him for he gave her a quick peck on the cheek before making his way to the altar. Spencer was soon by her side, hands in his pockets and eyes gazing into the distance.

“So what do you think?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Is this it? Is this all you do?” she asked, deeply intrigued.

“After our worship we all stand in a circle and whoever feels led by the spirit speaks. Sometimes it’s just silence; sometimes we’re all talking at once. Every once in a blue moon, though, we all are lead to say the same thing. It gets spooky as we all start chanting as one. It makes you really feel connected, you know?” he spoke and once again November recognized the spiritual fervor behind his words.

“The thirty first is rapidly approaching. Has the chanting ever happened on Halloween before?” she asked, watching as the sun set behind Pikes Peak.

“Not since I’ve joined. If it happens this year….it will be one of the greatest experiences of my life.” He breathed, longing evident in his voice. His expression suddenly cleared and he glanced over at her. “This isn’t what you were expecting, was it?”

“Not in the slightest.” She admitted.

“You still want to join?”

“Now more than ever, I think. Is it always like this?”

“Nah, in the winter we have to hold it at different people’s houses.” He shrugged.

“That is not what I meant. The stereotypes had to come from somewhere. Is this the average satanic ritual?”

“Oh, no it varies from sect to sect, even from coven to coven. We are part of the more peaceful sect. There are creepers out there that do the whole ‘virgin sacrifice at the full moon’ garbage but we don’t consider them true Satanists. What we call them is ‘black enthusiasts’. You know how with Christians you have your Luke-warm church goers, who sit in the back pew and mind their own, then you have the holier-than-thou basterds, who think they’re better than everyone, and you have the avid believers who are on fire for the truth and the love their God supposedly has for them, and you have the throat-shovers. It’s like that. You have the true followers, that’s us, then you have the diehard wanna-be’s, that’s the people who dabble with spell books and stuff, harmless but effective, and then you have the black enthusiasts. Of course it is a lot bigger than that, I mean there are so many other branches that even I’ve never heard of, but those are the three you’re most likely to run into around here. If you wanna look deeply into the analogy, we’d be the ones on fire for truth and Satan’s love, the enthusiasts would be your throat-shovers and the dabblers would be your holier-than-thou freaks. Just because they can chant some Latin words and mix some herbs together they think they’re better than the rest of us. They have no real power because they have no real faith. I have Satan on my side. I could hex those jerks to hell and back with one word, but I don’t because I’m the better person. That, and Satan tells us not to abuse our power unless we want to lose it.” He winked, coming out of his reverie.