Slowly and silently Beverly followed, still gripping her weapon. Mike turned the blood-drenched lock and opened the door. On the other side was the sun. It could have been only forty-five minutes or so past midnight, but the sun had risen brightly into the sky. It hung just over their heads as if it was exactly noon. From the top of the doorjamb leaked blood and bits of gore, and each of them was freshly coated as they stepped over the threshold and onto the bile-covered porch.
Every inch of the Black Crystal was covered in the flayed skins of the witches. The skins had been perfectly removed from the witches’ bodies and pinned to the building. From the roof to the foundation, the skins dripped blood and melting fat that was now baking in the hot sun.
The demon had done as it had promised. Even the blowup dolls had been impaled on sticks and melted with fire. Their arms and legs were flapping in the wind as they burned.
The four had survived the ordeal, but no one knew how long it would last. The battered group looked at the skinned bodies of the witches that the demon had piled on the now-smoldering bonfire. The entire property had been tainted that night, and it would be forever tainted from that time on. Too many had died there for it to remain in a moral state of nature. Instead, it was, and forever would be, a foul place filled with the hatred of the damned witches. The four survivors walked down the road with their weapons still clenched in their fists. They were almost a half mile from the place before Beverly finally spoke, saying, “What do we do now?”
“I'm going to check myself into a crazy home 'cause I know this messed me up something awful,” Ann said without a hint of jest as she used her sword like a walking stick while still clinging to Mike. After that, no one spoke until they saw the first car winding down the road. It didn’t stop and neither did the next three, but eventually they were able to flag one down.
As they rode silently to the police station or the hospital—they didn’t know which—Nick made a decision to never speak again, and in this way he would cut off some of the less thoughtful sins he could commit. He would hold his tongue as long as he could, but he knew he would eventually break. Until then, he was left to wonder exactly what it was that the demon had in mind. He still had the book buried in his chest. That horrific book seemed to pulse within his arms as if it had a heartbeat. Maybe somewhere within its pages was something that could save him and his friends, but he couldn’t let the cops get at it. Surly they would try to confiscate it as evidence. His mind set itself to finding a way to hide the hellish tome.
The End
Acknowledgments and Thanks
I thank my loving family and friends for everything they have given me. I would also like to thank God for putting up with all my shit. Thank you all. You may not know it, but you all have gone a long way in helping me destroy art in all forms. Ahhh, just kidding. But thanks for the support. Love you, Mom and Dad.
Maleficarum: Hunger of the Witch Page 10
