The Ritual - Short fiction

The night was particularly cold. Something unusual for a night that belonged dearly to the season of summer. Be as it was, the cold depressing night set him off. He felt a sense of unease, almost as if something bad was going to happen. Trying his best to push away the thought, he jumped off the big boulder of rock and started walking into the forest.

 

This was his fifth "meeting" in the woods. Though a ritual, the leader did not want it to be called that. For the lack of a better word, he always called it as a meeting.

 

As the woods cleared and the opening of the cave appeared, he could see the rest. The count of members seems to have tripled.

 

That cannot be a great thing, he imagined. If the number increases at this rate, it might be quite difficult to keep this a secret.

 

This can't be good. He was also not sure of the kind of people they were attracting. He needed to discuss this with the leader soon.

 

The people gathered around the altar. The "Sacrifice" was pulled by the legs and lifted onto the altar. The screams echoed inside the cave resonating a sweet timbre quality of a sound.

 

It was then that the sound of a gunshot pierced the chanting.

Photo by Alex Dion on Unsplash

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Posted from my blog with SteemPress : https://tiatu.timeets.com/index.php/2018/10/06/the-ritual-short-fiction/

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