She laid crookedly in the stained trunk of Kertus’ rugged sedan, as the two individuals regarded her. Flakes of blue paint from the chipped exterior surround her. Kertus looks up at Brent with a sly grin, knowing he had done well. Brent runs his hand along the sleek cuts on her body, spelling out her name.
“Betty” Brent mumbles, gently brushing the jagged glowing letters. They are cold to the touch, yet glow a deep purple as if a fire raged underneath.
“As requested” Kertus affirms, “However, I do not appreciate such a public meeting place.” Brent removes his hand and looks Kertus in his deep purple eyes.
“How much?” he asks, pulling out a faded leather wallet from his cheap jeans. Kertus regards Betty for a moment.
“We risk exposing ourselves meeting like this…” Kertus pauses, “five hundred dollars, given the dangers.” Brent sighs and hands him five folded one hundred dollar bills.
“Fine,” he mutters. Kertus’ slender hand extends from his trench coat and snatches the cash, quickly tucking it away.
He gestures to Betty and says, “Good luck, hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Brent leans into the dirty trunk and pulls Betty out, brushing a couple stray paint flakes off of her.
“Right” Brent grumbles, holding Betty by her slender body. Kertus slams the trunk shut and extends out his boney hand to Brent. Brent turns away, ignoring him. He wanders off to his car, a few spots away. As he approaches his SUV, an old couple glances in his direction. Their eyes widen and jaws drop when they spot what he carries in his arms and they retreat behind their old, brown station wagon. He ignores them. When he gets to his like-new vehicle, he carefully sets Betty on the black leather seats in the back. He climbs into the front and drives off from the Walmart parking lot, still being watched by the terrified old couple.
Brent drives out of the city limits, away from the paved streets and suburban neighbourhoods. He travels down a few dirt and gravel roads, the tires crunching the small rocks and stones. Thick, lively forests of trees, young and old, border the roads like wooden fort walls. The vehicle is completely silent from any music or sound, aside from the occasional thump from the back. Not even the air conditioning is on. Despite the lack of a single other vehicle in sight, Brent never exceeds the speed limit at any point. The forest occasionally opens up for another dirt road, but he continues on his path, never turning to even regard them. He just watches the road ahead, seeing it approach and disappear behind him.
After driving for a while, Brent stops the car and sits for a few extensive moments. A single vehicle approaches him, catching his attention. A father and son in a van drive past, singing in unison. Their faces are cheerful and joyous. He watches them, longingly. When he sees the van disappear around a corner, Brent resumes driving down the bumpy road. The forest grows ever denser around him, nearly forming a natural tunnel. Sunlight from the setting sun still manages to sneak through the treetops, illuminating the road as he turns down a dirt path into the crowded forest. His car barely fits down the muddy road, brushing against the stray branches of the trees. The sun seems to vanish, as the trees curve to block out the sky. Heavenly light no longer graces his path.
Brent drives deeper and deeper into the forest, until he reaches a clearing beside a small stream. Light from the full moon enchants the muddy clearing. He stops his car on the far side of the clearing, away from the stream and steps out into the lunar brilliance. The silence of his surroundings is almost deafening, until he hears a thump from the back of his car. He slowly wanders over to the back of his SUV, carefully avoiding the deep mud puddles. Another thump. Brent rips open the trunk and stares inside. In the spacious interior, bound and mostly unconscious, lies a young blonde woman. She shifts around uncomfortably, but doesn’t struggle. Her eyelids flutter, never quite opening to regard Brent. He grabs her by her bound arms and drops her onto the muddy ground. She slams into the muck, but not an utterance escapes from her gagged mouth. Brent sets her up for the night to come and waits for her to awaken.
When she slowly comes to, she finds her limbs impaled to the ground by wooden stakes. Her body is flayed out into a cross shape. Though faint, she can see the outline of a crudely painted red circle surrounding her. She struggles against the stakes, but can’t move her legs or arms. Her screams are muffled by the tightly bound fabric muzzling her. The ringing in her ears is even worse. She can’t even hear her own screams, no matter how much she strains her throat.
Brent slaps her across the face as hard as he can, silencing her cries. He walks back around to his car and opens the back seat, pulling Betty out. He brandishes her before the bound woman, showing her off in the dull moonlight. The faintly glowing letters catch the woman’s attention. Her stomach drops. She screams even louder and shakes her head, tears stream down her face. As a result of her shaking and thrashing, her gag comes loose.
“No!” the woman screams, watching as the man turns around and opens a box in his SUV’s trunk. He pulls a red cylinder with a gold bottom out and places it inside Betty, before turning back. The woman watches in horror. “Please, I have a family! I have a son!” she cries.
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Brent winces at her words, “you did.” He strides over to her, rage rattling his bones. She whimpers weakly, but Brent doesn’t falter. When he stands above her, he plants his feet on either side of her torso and stops.
She begs and pleads to the silhouette of a man, standing above her. The ringing in her ears finally fades and all she can hear is the soft trickle of the stream behind her. Brent bends down, enough that his face is visible to the bound woman.
“Fuck you,” he whispers.
The woman’s eyes shoot wide open. ‘Brent…” she mumbles. Brent straightens up and looks down at the woman. “Brent?” she yells out, “don’t do this! It’s me, your wife! Betty!”
“I know” he mumbles, cocking the shotgun aptly named Betty. The faint purple glow from the letters fades as he does, while he lines up the cold muzzle with her forehead.
“Please, Brent. I’m sor-”
“No.”
The clearing flashes purple for a single moment. All the birds in the forest fly away. All the animals skitter into their holes. All the pleas and sobs go quiet. All, but the trickle of the stream as Betty’s essence turns it red.
Brent backs away from the mutilated corpse of his wife. He stares at her. Not even an omnipotent God could describe the feeling boiling inside of him. It’s relentless and horrible, yet purposeful. The painted circle surrounding Betty begins to glow bright red, along with the star within the circle. Brent had drawn a pentagram beneath where she laid.
The moonlight fades for a moment, before fire erupts all around the Earth’s natural satellite. A full solar eclipse floods the clearing with orange light, complimenting the red glow from Brent’s crude artwork. Brent places down the now unremarkable shotgun in the trunk and sits down beside it, watching the unholy scene before him. The glowing pentagram begins to hum, louder and louder, until the earth beneath it collapses in on itself. What remains of Betty gets swallowed in amongst the dirt and grass around her. From the hole that has formed comes dull orange light and echoing screams and cries by the thousands, even millions. They harmonize into a single sound so horrible it makes Brent’s ears bleed. Though he had never heard such a sound before, it was instantly recognizable to him. The sound of eternal, unbearable suffering is hard to mistake.
Eventually the pit closes up, reforming the Earth to its original shape. The remains of the pentagram fade away along with the solar eclipse. Dull moonlight fills the clearing once again and all is quiet. All, but the gurgle of the bloody stream.
Brent stands to his feet and slams the trunk closed, sighing loudly. He scans the dense forest before approaching the driver’s seat. Two glowing orbs catch his attention and he freezes. They’re like a pair of bright red eyes, glaring at him from the cover of darkness. Then another pair of orbs appear right next to them. More and more appear from all around, flooding the forest with harsh glowing eyes. They surround Brent, enclosing the clearing in their harsh glare.
From deep within the trees comes a rumbling and the eyes all disappear. The rumbling gets louder and louder. Brent backs towards the stream, as an indistinguishable silhouette pushes through the trees, snapping twigs and branches. He keeps backing away until his foot sinks into the mud of the stream and he freezes. The silhouette enters the clearing, revealing itself to Brent.
A creature, far beyond Brent’s mortal comprehension, looks down at him. Its size and shape are ever changing. Its thousands of eyes spiral on fleshy rings around its horrific indescribable figure. A voice booms out from everywhere, nowhere, and from within Brent.
“Choose” it whispers deafeningly. A large decrepit tome is presented before Brent, with two options on each of the open pages. His eyes tear up from the intensity of the glowing letters and symbols.
On the left hand page are two options. The first one reads The Age of the Universe, while the second one reads Infinite Wisdom. Beneath the options is what appears to be a sample of said thing. Both of them are impossible for Brent to look at directly. It’s like looking at the sun if it was thousands of times brighter. Maybe it was inconceivable to his feeble mind.
The right hand page had two more options. The first one reads Unending Wealth. Brent completely ignores it and taps his finger on the second one. The tome shuts and disappears from existence.
“That one will cost extra,” the voice booms quietly. Brent nods his head and the being reaches its hand directly through Brent, making him shudder. It pulls out a flickering bright blue blob. Brent can’t seem to look at this directly, either; just like the images in the tome. The being draws a small pentagram and places the blob directly in the centre. Daunting red light appears from it, illuminating the clearing once again.
The being bids Brent a hasty farewell and disappears from existence in the blink of an eye, leaving him with the strange ritual. He stands and stares, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, dust begins to pile up around the circle of the pentagram. The dust starts to spin along the pentagram’s edge, making a large vortex. It spins faster and faster, turning violent and obscuring the blob in the centre. Then the blob shifts. A dark red glow emanates from the blob, slowly shifting into a humanoid shape. First the body forms, then the head, the arms, and finally, the legs. Though obscured, Brent recognizes it immediately. He collapses to his knees, tears soaking his pale cheeks.
The dusty vortex collapses inwards, coating the humanoid shape in debris. The glowing subsides, dissipating in the eyes of the newly formed person. Brent looks at them, his stomach in his throat. The short brown hair, striped yellow shirt, black cargo shorts, and the white sneakers. It was all so familiar. All of it, except for the grotesque grey, bloated skin. Through choked, sloppy breaths the person speaks.
“Fa… ther…?”