Dionysian Sacrifice

A balmy summer night, not particularly dark or stormy, during the middle of September gave rise to his inspiration, his depravity and madness.  He needed a sacrifice, the Gods called to him –at least in his mind – a perfect young woman to offer. 

As the thin, gaunt man stood hiding in the shadows, gazing out at the parking lot from just behind Captain Spaulding’s Museum of Monsters and Mad Men, his mind was torn in conflict over whom he should pick.

Captain Spaulding’s was the last gas station for at least fifty miles, and rest stops were non existent in the desolate country side.  The store was a little bit of everything – gas station, museum, freak show, and fun house.  It attracted numerous folks from all over the area, mainly out of necessity.  ffice ffice" /> > >

Folks like the car load of cheerleaders coming home from their most recent football game or whatever silly follies those girls participated in, exhausted, and still in their cute little skirts and matching shirts.

“Go team, go.”  He chuckled darkly to himself, running his vile tongue across his cracked lips. 

When he saw the tall, well tanned, fake little blonde sauntering towards the back of the building, his black heart leaped up into his throat.  She would be the perfect sacrifice to appease all of the old Gods and everything he believed in – she was extraordinarily beautiful, a perfect princess.  A sacrificial lamb sneaking into the lone wolf’s den. 

For a moment, he questioned that she had seen him – her reason for approach – but when she turned and ducked into the doorway on the side of the building, the man with the greasy curtain of black hair was relieved, the girl was only using the restroom. 

Stifling a giggle, the man picked up a brick from the ground and snuck around to the side of the building, hiding and slinking through the bushes and shadows, breathing heavily, beyond excited, his heart beating a billion miles an hour.  He could barely hold on to the brick, his palms were so sweaty. 

It was the adrenaline rush he lived for, hunting the ultimate form of game – human.

Jack Burroughs hid in the shadows until the bathroom door creaked open and the teenager stepped out.  Eyes wide with excitement, he raised the brick high above his head and brought it down on her skull as she turned to walk away.  The distinctive resonating thud of impact, the crunch of bone, and the painful moan that escaped the girl was clear indication that he’d hit her hard enough.

Jack chuckled to himself as the girl fell to the ground, unconscious.  He dropped the bloodied brick and grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her into the shadows before her simple little friends had a chance realize she was gone.

When the other girls and their sponsor realized their captain was gone, Tori Madrox was slumped over in the cab of a truck, unconscious and bleeding from the wound to her head, and Jack was at the wheel, cackling like a maniac and headed for home. 

She would be a perfect sacrifice to his sacred gods.  

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Heavy footfalls on the rickety, weatherworn porch, carried on the hot summer breeze into the dilapidated old farm house through the open windows.  A firm knock at the door awoke Cyprus Burroughs from her light sleep on the divan.  Yawning, she hurried to the front door and unlocked it, eager to see what her brother had brought back.

Grinning triumphantly, a crooked, rotten smile, Jack strolled in with the limp body of a teenaged girl slung over his shoulder.  “You hungry?”  He asked of his sister, “if you want, I’ll butcher her up real nice, but I’d rather not.” 

Not waiting for a reply, Jack dropped the cheerleader, and she hit the grungy carpet with an audible thud.

ffice:smarttags" /> lace>Curious, Cyprus lace> looked down at the blonde girl lying on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from the wound in her forehead.  Taking a step back, she smiled slightly, for once seeming pleased.  Pushing her dark dreadlocks back from her face, she gazed at her older brother, the man who had dropped the unconscious teen on the floor. 

“I just ate.  She another sacrifice, Jack?”  lace>Cyprus lace> approached him, leaning closer than she should have, resting her hands on his chest.

The man nodded, brushing a stringy black curtain of hair back from his gaunt face and grinning a sick smile, “To Dionysus.”  Not in the right frame of mind to deal with his younger sister at the moment.  He was still to high on adrenaline to feel like holding idle conversation.
            “Who else?”  lace>Cyprus lace> chuckled softly, noting the red and yellow cheerleading outfit the girl wore.  It seemed frivolous to her, allowing young girls to dress up and prance around half-naked as sex symbols to be worshiped within the school system.  lace>Cyprus lace> never went to school, public education was simply another way for the government to brainwash people, according to Jack and Fredrich, her older brothers.  Daddy was going to teach her, but that never happened; her brothers taught her about fanatical left wing beliefs and occult practices.  This was the extent of her education.

There were words written across the girls chest.  lace>Cyprus lace> didn’t understand them, but the writing was pretty.  Though completely illiterate, lace>Cyprus lace> was not stupid and she had an eye for art. 

“Can you tie ‘er up?”  Jack asked, removing his trench coat and flinging it over the back of a threadbare recliner which seemed to fit in, given the contents of the ratty, rundown living room.  He sat down, half lying, half sitting, on the puke-green sofa, he pulled a pocket knife from the pocket of his ragged, dirt-caked and grease-spotted jeans.

lace>Cyprus lace> nodded, silent – always silent – she rarely had anything worthwhile to say.  As the youngest of the Burroughs siblings somewhere around age twenty four, she was the most passive.  Twirling a long, black dreadlock of hair between her fingers, she drifted into the kitchen to rummage through the drawers and find something suitable for tying the girl down with.

Fredrich was off getting drunk somewhere, but he would be more than pleased they had ‘company’ again.  Sassy was in her room, listening to the latest pop sensation, reading fashion magazines no doubt.  The silly little twit fancied herself to be a celebrity.

When lace>Cyprus lace> returned from the kitchen carrying three brown extension cords – all patched with duct tape – she found her cadaverous brother Jack carving something into his upper arm with the knife he held.   She eyed the blood trickling down his deathly pale flesh as he carved at his skin, a smile of sick enjoyment on his features. Blood was commonplace at the Burroughs household, it did not bother the young woman to watch her brother carving away at his flesh.  A lot of things were commonplace at the Burroughs household – things that would have disturbed normal people. 

Wordlessly, lace>Cyprus lace> set about tying the girl, repeating to herself a silent mantra: ‘bring the hands behind their back, wrap it around three our four times nice and tight, secure it to their legs so they can’t get up.’  It was a process she had repeated so many times, it was almost second nature. 

“Ya know, I been thinkin’…” Jack trailed, still slicing away at his own flesh. 

lace>Cyprus lace> said nothing, only raised her head to look at her brother, still kneeling on the floor straddling the teenager. 

“Ol’ Hitler was on to somethin’.  Ya’ can’t get people excited about love, it just ain’t natural.  People only get excited when they gots somethin’ to hate.  If you can get enough folks involved in the hatin’, and enough folks has got your back, then you’re invincible, just like that.  Boom!  Immortal!”  He looked up from the carving in his arm, eyes wide with a perverse kind of excitement that made lace>Cyprus lace> shudder involuntarily.  “People gonna’ remember him forever for what he done.”  There was a hint of laughter in his voice, a sick and depraved giggle. 
            She couldn’t really recall what it was he had done, but it was a name both of her brothers mentioned often.  lace>Cyprus lace> eyed the cut on his arm, nodding in agreement with whatever it was Jack was ranting this time.  The symbol, oozing fresh, dark blood was one she knew the word for.  It was on all the banners in Jack’s bedroom – with no formal education, nor morals to tell her otherwise, swastika was just another household word, and it was synonymous with pride.  

She watched the blood trickle from the four-legged symbol of hate lacerated into her brother’s skin with slight detachment.  Blood and hate and death – she had grown up with it and was desensitized.  It was a way of life, really. 

Sitting down in a reclining chair, lace>Cyprus lace> sighed rubbing her eyes, further smearing yesterday’s eye shadow.  It was late; nearly midnight, and there was still a lot to be done before she could go to bed. 

On the floor, the young girl groaned softly, beginning to wake up.  Tori Maddrox, the captain of the cheerleading team, homecoming queen, and high school princess loved by everyone would never live to see the light of another day.    

From the hallway came a delighted squeal, “Uncle Jack’s home!” 

The man, still reclining on the couch, gave a half annoyed growl when his niece rushed into the room and tackled him.  He dropped his knife – it bounced under the couch, and he cussed at the beautiful blonde as she clung to him. 

“And you brought me a present! Oh Uncle Jack, I love you!” 

The cadaverous man struggled against her, growling slightly.  She was the same age as lace>Cyprus lace>, and the daughter of their brother Fredrich, and at the moment, the blood relations was the only thing keeping him from strangling her.  “She ain’t for you, Sassy.”  He hissed. 

“She’s so pretty!”  The woman continued, leaping down off the couch, crouching on the floor in her pink lace nightgown that left little to imagination. Gently, she stroked the teenager’s hair with a well-manicured hand, the pink of her nails matching her gown.  “First we’re gonna play dress up, and have a tea party, and then we’ll watch cartoons and be bestest best friends forever!” 

“I said I didn’t bring her home for you to torture…we gotta sacrifice this one.”
            Sassy looked up at her uncle in the dimly lit, dingy living room, a hint of a pout forming on her lips.
            “Aww great… there goes the neighborhood.”  lace>Cyprus lace> groaned, rolling her eyes where she sat.
            “But…I wanna play!”  The woman squeaked, near the verge of tears like a spoiled child that didn’t get her way.  To say Sassy was touched in the head –like the rest of her family– was a vulgar understatement. 

“We’re sacrificin’ her to Dionysus.”  Jack answered coldly, closing his eyes, trying to remain calm with his extremely immature niece. 

Sassy’s bottom lip trembled, she snorted slightly, glancing at the cheerleader.  “I wanna play dress up!”  She shrieked, tearing at her long, curly, blonde hair, wailing with tears streaming down her beautiful face.  The young woman sat on the floor, kicking and screaming, throwing a fit.  “I wanna watch cartoons and play doctor and have a tea party!” She managed in between sobs and gasps.  Laying back on the dirty carpet, with no regard to decency, she continued her immature display, “It’s not fair it’s not FAIR, IT’S NOT FAIR!”

Jack looked at Cyprus, and Cyprus at Jack, and both remained silent for a moment, until their niece’s sobs and shrieks quieted, both knowing there was only one way to win an argument with Sassy. 

“How about…you play with her for the time being, and Jack, you got find someone else to sacrifice, and then when she’s done with the girl, you can kill her, too?”  lace>Cyprus lace> suggested, always the peace keeper of the family. 

Looking up, hopeful, Sassy smiled a sickeningly sweet smile to her uncle.  “Please?  Oh pretty, pretty please with ice cream and sugar and sprinkles and gum drops and ---”

“Alright, good GODS, if I agree will you shut your yap?  You’re givin’ me a headache!”  The cadaverous man snapped, glaring.  No… he’d never hurt the girl.  Never hurt family.  Family was sacred.  That didn’t mean he didn’t lose his patience with her and consider strangling her to death with her own intestines, though.

“Thank you so much!”  Sassy squealed, again pouncing on her struggling, protesting uncle and hugging her tightly.  “Don’t just sit there like a bump on a pickle, help me drag ‘er off to my room so we can play!”
            Reluctantly, Jack sighed, pushing her off of him and standing up.

From her position, watching it all with detachment, lace>Cyprus lace> smiled slightly – a hint of a smirk at the corners of her mouth.  Peace was restored to the murderous clan, if only for a few seconds. 

lace>Cyprus lace> mused to herself that Jack was wrong – a common hatred had proved affective in uniting people once upon a time, but only love could keep people united in the long run.

Family.