Satanic Panic- A Homage to 1980's B-Movie Horror

by Daniel P Coughlin

  The sensation of fear melded with panic did not cite Lance. Newfound excitement and confidence thrilled him. He crept to the door, wrapped his hand around the knob, took three deep breaths and flung the metal rectangle open. He raised the stolen pistol outward.

  Startled, Grady’s smile was only inches from Lance’s face. The barrel of Lance’s pistol was eye level.

  Grady glared at him. Confidence never left his expression.

  Sympathy sought Lance. Maybe he wanted this life. Maybe Grady would be true to his word. And maybe this was Lance’s true calling.

  “It took you long enough,” Grady whispered. He glanced past the pistol and aligned his focus with Lance’s eyes. That bright white California smile never left his face. “How do you like what I’ve done with your princess?”

  Lance was torn. Didn’t know if honesty was best in this scenario. “I—” Lance stumbled.

  “You don’t know if you should kill me or follow me. But the truth is that you’re glad to see that whore dead and that muscle bound degenerate shredded to pieces. It excites you to know that a profound existence awaits you. All you’ll have to do is give up everything. But remember: everything is what has weighted you. The weight of your existence has disabled you. Follow me. It’s what we both want.”

  Lance attempted to squeeze his index finger. He stopped short of depressing the trigger. An unexplained, unearthly force hindered his compliance.

  Mental block?

  Influence.

  Persuasion.

  Grady’s sick, sharp, twisted yet beautiful mind was at work. And it was working well.

  “You’re not going to end me, Lance. You’re going to join me and you’re going to enjoy your life.”

  “You set me up.”

  “I freed you from all that you know. Societal structure, the disease that pollutes the human mind shall shed from you. You will taste sensation, the true essence of life.”

  “Say that again.”

  “Listen. You can shoot me.” Grady opened his arms giving Lance a free, wide target.

  Lance didn’t take the shot. He couldn’t. A million thoughts punched through his mind. He wanted to taste the sweetness of this life that Grady spoke of.

  “I’m listening, but I want answers,” Lance managed.

  “If you would have given in to the cop then you would have gone to prison for all of these murders. That’s for certain. But you chose to end the officer’s life. It felt good and you know it.”

  “The cop had a heart attack,” Lance included. “And how did you know about the cop?”

  “The cop died from the arsenic I fed him an hour before I told him to kill you. I wanted to test you. That police officer paved the way for me to get away with those drowning’s. He was a brother in a large organization, Lance. The test was for you to kill him. The poison was my insurance.”

  Lance cocked the dead officer’s pistol. This time Grady flinched. In this moment, Lance witnessed a miniscule amount of human weakness. He wondered if Grady had displayed this weakness deliberately. Detail-oriented was an understatement when speaking of Grady. His specific calculations were infallible. Grady was a master of persuasion, control, and manipulation.

  Maybe he should pull the trigger. Get this over with.

  But he wanted—needed—to hear about the details involved in this lifestyle that Grady offered. Something pleasurable, spiritual, and thrilling was illuminating his discarded soul. He felt that purpose might accept him if he followed. Never had he felt so close to the supernatural. So close to believing. The desire and want to explore hedonistic pleasures overwhelmed him. To shed stress and the guilt associated with animalistic acts seemed logical. These current feelings were the discovery of a higher power.

  Funny. The devil—in fact—does seduce.

  Lance had always wanted to believe in a higher existence, but his logical make-up hadn’t permitted adherence to these ideas. A new avenue of thought struck. No longer was the notion of a divine entity irrational and without merit. There was no disputing the feelings and sensations that he currently felt. Factual evidence could not dismiss. For too long, Lance’s scientific mind would not contemplate any such evidence that would support a God or a Devil. Therefore, these ideas couldn’t exist. Now, it was good to believe. Deeply, he inhaled and felt that his lungs had opened and his head was clear. Clarity of mind and body came with true spirituality. He was unable to deny the illumination of his soul. And he acknowledged that it was dark.

  Grady stepped forward and began, “You want something from me. You want to join me. You want me to show you dark things. You’ll enjoy killing.”

  “I’d probably enjoy killing you.”

  “There’s no question that you would. If you enjoy killing then you would definitely enjoy killing me. If you do kill me I suggest that you do it slowly. Savor it. Wear my skin.”

  “If I join you... ” Lance began.

  “I’ll show you the exceptional benefit of true sacrifice. I’ll show you how to enjoy the pleasures that this world has to offer, both worldly and spiritually. If you were born to be evil then you must accept your destiny. Am I right?”

  Lance felt a tickle in his stomach. The same tickle he’d experienced when he’d first met Brianna.

  Could this be the designation of life’s pursuit?

  Could this be the answer to all of life’s questions?

  “I want to join you.” Lance stood straight. Lifting his head and extending his spine he felt an inch taller and more powerful. Bigger. He tilted his head downward at his new world. The blood-soaked building was a work of divine-murderous art. Reborn, he was a religious man.

  “Let’s go.” Grady smiled, walked to his new comrade and embraced him.

  5

  Grady discovered the partner that he’d searched many years for. He felt the nourishing connection quench his desire. He’d begged the Master for this companion. In Lance, Grady found true camaraderie. The Dark Lord had sent him a pure disciple. Through the sacrifice of Brianna and Brock he’d been shown the completeness of a loyal and dark hearted disciple.

  His life’s plans had changed in a matter of seconds. He’d been delivered. He was thankful. The Dark Lord spoke and the Dark Lord was pleased.

  Near tears, Grady held his new friend.

  “You can never be Lance again. You know that?”

  Lance parted from Grady. “That’s been made very clear.”

  “Then let’s leave right now. We’ll go to California. We’ll go to the Arizona desert.”

  “What’s in the desert?”

  “The greatness of evil.”

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Heaven.”

  “Then how do you know if we are evil or if we are good? If good is evil then how do we define the sensations we enjoy?”

  “That is the answer to all we seek. The moral scale extracted from judgment. When you act upon things you’re drawn to—do you feel good?”

  “I feel guilty for disobeying the learned morality that has been implemented upon me.”

  “You’re ignoring the soul... that element of existence that feels good. And is good. We have much to explore, you and I.”

  “What about this mess?” Lance asked.

  “You can help me stage it to look like Brock committed this atrocity. Or, you can watch... or, you can do whatever the hell you’d like. The Dark Lord has led me to you. I know that you are my ally.”

  Paralysis struck Lance. He trembled with the spirit of his new lord.

  What was happening? This was not normal human behavior. This was not the manner in which his DNA was coded. Or so he thought. Two months ago, he was a logical, sense-driven human being with a functional moral compass. Now, he was capable of perversion at the highest level. Murderous deeds had been engaged in. Disturbing sexual activities, a taboo relationship, the witnessing of ritualistic satanic sacrifice had been enjoyed. In one passing moment he’d extracted interest in the woman he’d loved his entire life in order
to feel the divine power of his new God.

  Truly American.

  And then he laughed.

  “What’s funny?” Grady asked.

  “Everything. You have to remember who I was two months ago.”

  Grady stood, dropped the masked corpse that he’d dragged toward a giant vat of hydrochloric acid, placed his index finger to Lance’s chin and said, “I always move through the perspective aspects too quickly. You went from the average American college student to a satanic stud and now the reality of how great this is going to be has sunk into your grey matter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that’s it.” Grady smiled.

  “What’s it?” Lance responded, expecting conventional wisdom from a psychopath.

  “You’ve abandoned all hope. You’ve stripped yourself of false goodness. Turned on the one’s you love. Acknowledged how good the brutal truth feels. You’ve hit rock bottom and realized that in doing so you’ve climbed the highest mountain.” Grady reciprocated.

  “What’s next?”

  The pain Lance felt was intense, searing even.

  6

  Grady enjoyed this part. Although he desired a partner, he knew that his Dark Lord was simply testing him. He shed his desire to rely on another human being. Ending life was what the Dark Lord demanded. He’d convinced a strong person to abandon all morals, maturity, and hope. He’d stripped the man of all goodness and then shot him in the face. Lance was no more. He was a headless corpse convulsing on the floor like discarded trash—a slave in Hell awaiting his master. Soon.

  And now he would shed the blame of all this death on this pathetic being and destroy his once decent reputation.

  This was true sacrifice.

  He would be rewarded.

  Epilogue

  A Video

  G rady whistled, pulled the rolling chair away from his desk and took a seat. The 40 inch flat screen monitor hummed to life. The spinning white circle rotated, center of the screen.

  Grady twirled in his chair while waiting for the images of his final cut masterpiece to fill the monitor. Finally, the halted image—slightly pixelated—sharpened within the display monitor. The paused image of Brianna’s beautiful face smiled at him. The angle was slightly crooked—Dutch. The camera’s operator was hidden near a gaggle of poplar trees. Students from the University scattered like ants on this fall afternoon. Then the image zoomed forward into three young, beautiful adults scampering across campus. Brock, Lance and Brianna smiled and skipped. The boys lightly punched each other as boys often do. A formation of fresh female students in trendy stretch pants or sweats stopped to adore Brock as he returned an arrogant smile. The camera shook. The frame tightened on Brock’s beautiful face, specifically his smile. From behind the camera a voice whispered, “That’s our sacrifice.” Grady titled the camera upward below Ricky Mack’s fat chinned grinning face. “He will be a challenge. A worthy challenge.”

  “Put your life on it?” Grady asked.

  “I wouldn’t betray you… or Him.” Grady lowered his voice and titled his head.

  “If I get the girl I’ll get to the boy,” Grady informed.

  The image cut to black.

  The next angle was taken from a laundry pile in Brianna’s dorm room. Clearly she didn’t know she was being filmed as Grady had bent her over the couch, naked and pummeled into her in the most animalistic manner. He climaxed on her ass. She smiled, turned to kiss him and then went to the bathroom. Once she was out of the room, Grady moved toward the camera. Looking over his shoulder every other step, making sure she was still gone, his face filled the frame. “Step one and done.”

  Fade to black.

  The sound of far-off shouting was heard and melded with music. Blurry images were taken at a crowded bar—The Quarter—and Brianna was introducing Brock and Lance to Grady. The images were very shaky and grainy. The body-cam that Grady wore was tucked into the chest pocket of his hoodie. The freeness of Brock’s body language and dialogue mirrored his drunkenness.

  Fade to black.

  A wide angled frame was taken from the house across the street from Jeff Torrance’s house. The image was very bright, daylight. The images cut to Jeff Torrance staging the camera while it recorded. The camera filmed his house across the street. The snow-filled glass window was in focus, revealing Jeff’s reflection. He was perfecting the angle on the upstairs bedroom of his house. “All this snow sucks.”

  “Don’t worry,” Grady returned.

  Fade to black.

  The following images were again dark. The image of Grady leaving Jeff’s party from the front door was overly grainy. The camera operator zoomed in on the upstairs bedroom where Brianna, Lance and Brock engaged in a kiss. “Whoa, didn’t see that coming. Kinky.” Jeff Torrance giggled.

  Fade to black.

  The next shot was blindingly bright and filmed from the kitchen of The Quarter. The camera had been hidden behind a stack of off-white colored plates. Brock and Toby were conversing, conducting a transaction for date rape drugs. Grady turned the camera to his own face and stated, “This is my masterpiece. This is a gift from Him.” He flipped the camera angle on Brock as he left the bar out of focus.

  Moaning and grunting sounds rose in volume. The camera breathed into focus, but bobbed up and down as the image was shot hand-held from Grady’s body cam. This image was of Brianna being ravaged by Brock and Lance in the presence of Grady. Then Brock’s Penis came into frame and he ejaculated onto Grady’s face. Once Brock and Grady left the room, Grady’s middle finger erected into the frame. Brianna laughed as she cleaned off in the vanity mirror. She didn’t even notice that Grady had awoken and plunged a syringe into her neck. His thumb was large in the close-up shot as it plunged downward, sending the sedative into Brianna’s blood stream. Jeff Torrance’s laughter infiltrated the video. Then there were two boys lifting Brianna and taking her down a flight of stairs. The camera continued to record as they left the house, went to the dingy garage and threw her into the trunk of a car.

  Fade to black.

  In the next image, Brianna was swarmed by six naked Smiley Devil’s doing awful things to her. When they finally backed off of her it was apparent that she was bound to a chair, which was bolted to the cement floor. There were strawberry-like pinch marks covering her breasts and stomach. Her face was bruised and bleeding. The camera waved as it was brought close. A red-hot poker singed her skin and branded a Pentagram onto her chest. She screamed through her gag.

  Grady pulled the gag from her mouth. She was silent.

  “Come on, you have to have questions. Comments?” Grady pleaded.

  Struggling for breath, she stated through swollen lips, “I never believed in God before right now. Not really, anyway.” She looked up at the camera. Her appearance was unfazed by the recent abuse. “So, I’m praying for forgiveness.”

  “You can’t just say you believe in God and go to Heaven. You’re going to be burning very soon. Just think about the gravity of that statement. In less than ten minutes your soul will have fled your body. Your skin will burn and you’ll be tormented,” Grady debated.

  Shaking her head she looked up at the camera. A Smiley Devil punched her in the mouth while laughing, mean-spiritedly. Still, she spoke, “I see what you’ve done. I’ve witnessed simple, but cruel actions destroy multiple lives. The passage of Satan has been made clear. I whole-heartedly believe in the Devil. I cannot deny his existence. He’s real and that is terrifying. But if I believe in the Devil then I know that the God of love and mercy is real too. There’s no denying this any longer. So, I’m begging for forgiveness because I don’t want to go to where you‘re going. And I can feel redemption coming—”

  Her final words were cut short. The sound of blood erupting in her throat gargled viciously. The camera displayed Brock’s hunting knife plunge into her neck and slowly carve—jaggedly—across her throat. The knife remained in place as blood spouted around the metal blade. Her lifeless body slumped in her restraints. />
  The image of her pupils dilating filled the camera frame. A twinkle of light in one pupil caused pixilation.

  The image was black.

  The End

  About Your Author

  After graduating high school in Watertown, Wisconsin, Daniel P. Coughlin joined the United States Marine Corps and served four and half years as an infantry Machinegunner in an Amphibious Raider Unit (Fox 2/4).

  After being Honorably discharged, Daniel attended and graduated from California State University at Long Beach where he studied screenwriting under the mentorship of acclaimed writer Brian Alan Lane (Star Trek Next Generation, Remington Steele, Moon Lighting) and also interned as a script analyst for his favorite director, Wes Craven (A Nightmare on Elm Street).

  Daniel is the screenwriter of three commercially successful films Lake Dead, which was selected as one of After Dark Film's 8 Films to Die For, Farmhouse, starring A-List film and television star Steven Weber (Wings, Desperation, Single White Female) and Ditch day Massacre (starring Bill Oberst Jr.).

  Daniel is the author of six novels and an anthology of short fiction.

  He's sold numerous short stories to such publications as 18 Wheels of Horror, Hell Comes to Hollywood 2, Strange Tales of Horror, Macabre Cadaver Magazine, and Dark Gothic Resurrected Magazine.

  Daniel was hailed by Macabre Cadaver Magazine as, "A Promising New Voice in Old School Horror."

  Daniel is a proud member of the Horror Writer's Association (Los Angeles chapter). He holds a professional certificate in Technical Writing from Cal State Dominguez Hills and a Master's Degree in Creative Writing from Full Sail University. Check out his works at

  www.danielpcoughlin.com.

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