(As usual, not for the kiddies and for those who may get offended easily)
Flames kiss the exterior walls, cracking and shattering glass, working its way up the sides of the house. I sit in the middle of my room, Mom and Dad and Leroy all dead. Mikhala sits near me, naked, bound at the wrists and feet, gagged with one of her very large panties. Her eyes plead with me, beg me to free her.
I shake my head. “He’s coming.”
A muffled groan escapes her throat; tears spill from her green eyes. She wasn’t so merciful earlier when we slit my parents’ throats and stabbed Leroy so many times the blade broke off in his chest. She didn’t listen to him as he begged us to stop, to stop, to oh please stop. No, she didn’t care one bit when we rolled my older brother from his bed and then did the nasty on his blood drenched mattress. She may be a larger gal, but she’s got a wild streak in her and satiating that bitch was damn near impossible.
She fell asleep. I didn’t.
“Not much longer,” I say, though I’m not sure she can hear me over the roar of the flames engulfing the house. I set the fire on the outside to give me enough time to drag Mikhala into my room where we could both wait for… who? I can’t remember, but I know he’s coming. He’ll be here soon and he’ll take Mikhala as a sacrifice and…
Smoke filters beneath the bedroom door. Sweat breaks out along my body as heat fills the room. Mikhala cries. This angers me and I kick her in the side. My boot connects with one flabby breasts and she lets out a yelp of pain and gives me an angered look.
“Quit your whining, Mikhala. This was your idea.”
And it was. She wanted to summon the demon, the creature who could make our lives that much better, make us eternal… she, with her ‘I’m a Satanist’ attitude, dark clothes and pasty white skin. She, who laughed in the face of religion.
She’s not laughing now.
The doorknob glows red and the snap and pop of burning wood echo through the house. The door gives, the flames peel away paint, burn through the flimsy thin wood. A rush of reds, yellows and oranges fill my vision and heat sears my skin, singes the hairs on my head. I want to duck away, but don’t. Only cowards duck away…
The air flees the room and a black mass appears in the crumbling doorway.
“He’s here,” I whisper.
Mikhala’s eyes grow large and she struggles to move. Screams tear from her as gray smoke fills the room, takes on the shape of a beast, horns on its head, wings on its back, talons jutting from its ankles. It reaches a dark hand toward Mikhala, its fingers impossibly long, its arm stretching further than it should.
“Yes,” I say. The smell of urine mingles with smoke and burning wood as I wet myself.
The beast looks up; its void-like eyes stare through me. A shiver runs along my spine and it smiles, showing horrible flaming teeth dancing in its black mouth. Its hand reaches for me, fingers stretching, seeking… me.
“No,” I say and try to back away. “You want her. She’s the one who called you. She’s the sacrifice.”
My legs grow numb and I fall backward. Its fingers latch onto my ankle, burning skin, cooking flesh. I slide across the floor. I grab for Mikhala, feel her doughy flesh and my stomach turns. Reflexively, I let go of her. Flames lick at my legs as it pulls me through the door.
I hear Mikhala, catch a glimpse of her as her bonds loosen, freeing her limbs. She laughs… that bitch laughs and points a meaty hand at me. She smears ash on her naked body and her smile broadens. From behind her another mass appears, this one so much larger than the one that grips my ankles. It reaches around her and grabs one of her sagging breasts. It smiles, a gaping maw of eternal damnation.
Darkness surrounds me as the flames begin to swallow me… I hear her laughter and I am one with the fire; one with the demon…