Prelude - John

Uh.. yeah. It's..umm.. wild. - John replied, shifting awkwardly. He was not limber enough to keep sitting in the lotus for long. Or on his knees.

While initially incredibly skeptical of the their glorious leader slow pivot from motivational speaking to mystical rituals, some of the tricks the man showed or performed lately have completely stumped John, with his inability to understand exactly how they were done. He tried asking Malcolm (who now insisted everyone called him Red), but all he got in return were some pseudo wise man quotes or questions back, like "How do YOU think I've done it?"

For this particular ritual, Red insisted that they all buy a set of white robes. "We must ensure that maximum purity of thought and matter" - he said. This particular ritual was supposed to open the gates to some other realm of happiness and wealth and invite those things in (side them). All the explanations sounded the same - like some wordy shallow mumbo-jumbo. But Tish seemed to be into it. I should talk to her again, maybe try to convince her to quit this circus. - John thought to himself, awaiting the arrival of their knock-off guru.

Say, Tish.. Do you want to get a bit after this? You know, check our newfound wells of personal power and luck?

Everyone took each other's hands, and began focusing intently on the center of the of pentagram, where Red sat proudly, his book in front of him.

Guess this is it. - John smiled at Tish, and she nodded, excited. The rest of the group had these intense looks on their faces, incredibly focused. Then everyone began their chanting - multiple phrases in Latin, that Red made them learn and practice. At first only one person recited the verses, then the second joined in, then the third. John was the last.

There was something beautiful about it, like when a capella singers harmonize. His words rung true, but his focus was on her. The soft, warm palm of her hand. Her voice, a little husky and melodic, in a blues kind of way. In this singular moment, she was perfect.

As the chanting speeds up, the sensory input increases. I swear I could smell this musky old book like it was right under my nose; hear Jerry's loud gulp like it was my own; feel the moisture of the beads of sweat running down Leslie's forehead. The air itself felt charged, like before a heavy thunderstorm, the thick smell of ozone filling the air, electrifying it. I knew something was wrong, but just could not stop chanting.

YES! YES! Come! Enter! Enter this plane, o Golden Lords and bless us with your Light! - Red screams, throwing his hands up to the yellowed ceiling above. The candles flicker - once, twice - and then the lights goes out. The chanting stops and in the darkness I can hear the others - confused, anxious, scared. Moments later the room is lit back up again, bathed in a glow of nauseating red light, coming from all the candles. A thought crosses my mind - he probably smiling right now, satisfied that another one of his tricks worked, wooed the audience. I squint and look at Red. The pose, it's.. unnatural, but that is not what makes me freeze. His eyes are wide open, a look of deep, primal terror, it paralyzes me, and my breath gets caught in my throat, unable to escape.

Red's eyes roll back in his head, making everyone sitting opposite the guru gasp. A black liquid follows, flowing underneath his cornea, from the bottom up, covering his eyes completely, turning them into dark, obsidian orbs. Jerking suddenly, Red throws his head up, his mouth agape, wide, stretched out. The same liquid, this black inky oil, flows up, bubbling, creating an umbrella above the everyone, covering the entire pentagram. The silence is deafening, not a breath is heard and for a second, one that feels like infinity, everything stands still. And then the dark waters fall down, enveloping us all.

---

I don't want to hear it. Do not want to see it, sense it, be it. I shut my eyes tight and force them to open, to blink. The eyelids barely open up, stuck together by something sticky. I try to remove it with my hands, but am only smudging it further, as both of my hands are covered in the same substance. The smell hits my nostrils - metallic, coppery, bloody smell..

The eyes finally open and I look around, shaking from.. something, I can't quite tell what. Only handful of candles are still lit. No one else is in the basement.
T-tish? R-r-red? - I try calling out to them, but my voice is unsteady, coarse, like I was screaming for hours. No answer. Just silence. This one is not deafening, like during the ritual, but it is terrifying in its loneliness. And the stench, this..damn..stench.. My gaze falls down on my hands. My arms. My legs, my body. The robe that used to be white. Then it hits me, the feeling. This nasty feeling. I'm drenched in it, covered from head-to-toe. My face, my body underneath the robe, the hair. It's like I've just got out of bath or a river. A bloody, empty, horrible river. Letting out a yelp, I try to get up and run, but slip on the blood that pooled beneath me. I run, frantically, up the stairs, climbing it on all fours, painting the dirty gray falls deep red.

The upstairs room is dark. How long has it been? The pounding drumming of rain outside thumps inside my skull. Need to get out. Need to get away. - is all I can think. Opening the front door, I run out to my car, my feet hitting the deep puddles collected in the asphalt dents and holes. I grab the car door and yank - but it is closed. My knees hit the ground. I grab myself, hug myself, crying, panting, sobbing, screaming, trying to let it all out, all this dirt, this taint, but it is stuck - it my head, in my gut, in my throat, deep in every crevice of my very soul.

I try looking up, but my head feels too heavy. Someone is here. I can vaguely see one entering the HAPPINESS! NOW! building. My hand twitches, as I try to reach to them, but it wouldn't listen. It's so.. cold. I am so cold.. Another gently pries my fingers off the door handle and they slide down the wet metal, as the arm plops in the puddle at my feet. The water is cold. I try to open my eyes further, to see, but all the strength has left the body. I slump on the side of the car and fade into the darkness below.


I can hear them scream. The geometry.. is wrong. The unnatural angles and dimensions that collapse on each other. Somewhere there, I left a piece of me. When it touched me. Yes, it did. It touched me. A caress of the sandpaper. A gentle float in a pitch black, onyx air. The coverings..


I jerk up and immediately gasp from the immense pain shooting through my body. It is leaden, weighted, heavy. I double up and clasp my side, coughing and retching fruitlessly.

Wow, easy there man. You've been through a lot. - a man's voice comes from above.

I turn my head towards the voice. Feels like turning an old, rusted tap. Three people stand near my bed. Not my bed, the bed I'm lying in, I realize. The room is not familiar. It's someone's bedroom - the thought crosses my mind, as my eyes slide across it. Trophies, posters, a guitar on the wall. The woman, adoring a weird red cloak, stares at me in displeasure, frowning. Something about her eyes.. Old eyes. The young man next to her seems worried.

You okay there? Need some water? - he says. I try to say "yes", but only gruff screech comes out, followed by heavy, grating cough.
There you go. - the man puts a glass of water to my lips. Who knew regular water can taste so refreshing, so..tasty. I feel like I've been roaming the deserts for weeks.

The third figure, a middle aged man observes me impassively, occasionally correcting his glasses.

---

W-where.. am I? - it's hard to speak, each word requires effort to push out. I breathe heavily, as the pain slowly subsides - from sharp and all encompassing to a dull ever-present. The thoughts refuse to form, bumping around in my head like the lottery balls. This room has strange wallpaper. Have I seen it before? Or them? Ugrh..

W-what time.. is it? I.. I have to go.. to work.. - I try to get up, but my body refuses to move.

Where is.. Red? And Tish? - directing my weary, tired gaze upward, I stumble upon the older man, who, after his initial inspection of my beaten husk, begins to produce something from his briefcase, placing the items on the bed. I catch a glint of metal, but can't quite see what from.

What.. are.. you doing? - something is not right here. Who are these people? Where was I, before..? Trying to remember causes a sharp sting in the back of my head. I groan and try to move my shaking hand to rub it, but fail utterly.

Are you.. the Golden Lords..? - I ask, not quite understanding what. The Golden Lords? Where have I heard it befo.. Arghh! The jolt of jagged agony runs through my left leg, causing it to cramp. What the hell is going on?!

---

Gone? What does she mean, gone? She was right there, I was holding her hand.. her hand.. Angry, I manage to muster enough strength to throw myself at the head of the bed, my back landing on the pillow. My body screams at me, enraged, and pain unravels all along the nerves throughout, but I endure and grit my teeth. The metal gizmos scattered at the side of the bed clack as I shift.

What do... do you mean.. - a fit of violent cough interrupts the already hard to form sentence. What do you mean - gone? Who are you? Why.. why am I here? - peppering the strangers with all the questions that come to mind, I try to focus and gather enough wits about me to scour the surrounding for any clues. Was I kidnapped? Drugged? My head is splitting.. Is that why? But what about the other HAPPINESS! NOW! members?
How long.. was I out? - I stare at the strangers apprehensively. The older man doesn't seem to mind. The woman.. Did she say I was the only survivor? Of what?
What the hell happened? Why am I here? - the avalanche of thoughts assaults my mind and I'm having a damn hard time keeping them straight, thinking, it's just.. all wrong. We were supposed to go get a dinner after. Me and her. Why am I here?

RHOMBUS IT WAS LEAKING - I blurt out. Where did it come from..?

What..? Uh.. Professor..? Are you a doctor? Is that what this is? I.. I think I must've hit my head or.. - trailing off, I try to focus and think, push through the pain, wade through the buzzing static in my head.

Malcolm, he does these tricks.. I can't quite tell how. We were at lunch and Tish said she saw something behind him once. "An Angel" - she said. Something about the air shimmering. It the damn AC. But.. Umm.. He had this book, Red. Said he paid for it. We were.. Summoning.. Happiness in our lives. It's some.. Law of Attraction bullshit. Manifesting and all that.. Summoning fortune, he said. - I shudder. The flickering candles appear, consume my mind, each flick a metal thud inside my skull. Spasming and shaking, the words leak out, one after another:

GOLDEN LORDS! BLACK WATER! THEOPHANY OF LIES! BRING THEM TO MY OCEANS! TO BREATH MY WATEEERR

The body won't listen. Squinting with one eye, I see nothing coming out, even though my body feels like it is expunging something foreign.

D-d-oooctor! Help! HELP! - I yell, terrified. What the hell is happening to me?! Can't stop shaking. The car is moving erratically - but I am a passenger, not the driver. I look to the others, tears streaming down my twisted, from the spasms, face, pleading, begging them for help.