(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Maybrook...
Pennsylvania...
Meanwhile, in Maybrook, Pennsylvania, an old house stood quiet under the shadow of the streetlamp.
Inside, an elderly woman sat before her vanity mirror.
Her face was painted with far too much makeup for her age—
Powder thick on her skin, lipstick caked into the cracks of her lips.
At first glance, she looked like a grandmother trying too hard to appear young,
But the frozen smile plastered on her face was what made it truly unsettling.
That smile faltered.
"____"
A thin trickle of blood slid from her nostril.
She blinked once, twice, then wiped it away with a trembling hand.
Her expression shifted instantly—
Sweetness gone, kindness erased—
Leaving only cold sharpness behind.
The woman stood and quietly locked the door.
Click~
The click echoed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the house.
She sat back down, picked up her phone, and dialed a number from memory.
Ring~ Ring~
Ring~ Ring~
Ring~ Ring~
After a few seconds,
The call connected.
On the other end,
Jackson's voice came, muffled under the background hum of Hobbs Spring Resort.
"Everything's proceeding as planned here,"
He muttered, as though already mid-conversation.
"The boy was delivered, the blessing performed. The Father is pleased."
Hearing Jackson's report that everything was proceeding according to plan,
"____"
The old woman did not respond right away.
Her painted lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes hardened into icy shards.
The cheerfulness she wore like a mask drained completely.
Her voice, when it came, was no longer sweet—
It was cold, sharp, commanding.
"The god's statue has been destroyed. At the sacrifice cave."
For a moment, silence stretched on the line.
Even Jackson, usually collected, sounded unsettled when he spoke again.
"____"
"…Destroyed? Are you certain?"
"I felt it,"
The old woman hissed, wiping another faint streak of blood from beneath her nose.
"The vessel destroyed, the bond cracked. Someone meddles where they should not. Check it. Now. Before the god's anger consumes us all. When she arrives."
Her eyes flicked toward the mirror.
On the other end of the line, Jackson's tone shifted to obedience.
"I'll go myself. And if I find who dared touch it…"
"Good,"
The old woman cut in, her voice low and final.
"Do not fail. Our time is nearly here."
With that, she ended the call and sat back in silence, staring at her painted face in the mirror until her frozen smile returned.
"____"
Her name is Gladys a Voodoo witch who was at the end of her life.
Gladys slowly lowered the phone onto the table,
Her wrinkled hand trembling not with weakness but with anticipation.
Her eyes drifted toward the black wooden stick resting on the lace runner.
Around its shaft, several strands of human hair were tightly wound—
Shimmering faintly under the lamplight like threads of fate themselves.
Her lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer.
This was the tether.
The curse's anchor.
The reason the villagers of Hobbs Springs obeyed without question.
But this one is different this was prepared for the town she was currently choose to.
Here she will take the sacrifice to the another step.
Each hair stolen, each piece of nail or flesh taken in secrecy, bound another soul to her god's will.
"Soon,"
She whispered, stroking the stick as though it were a living thing.
"Soon you will have what you crave, and in return… I will be made whole again."
Her painted face cracked into a grin, and for an instant her reflection in the window shifted—
Showing her younger self, radiant and beautiful, laughing in triumph.
Then the image shattered back to her reality:
An old, painted crone, hiding rot beneath rouge.
Gladys clutched the black stick close to her chest, whispering to it like a lover.
"This place is perfect. Isolated. Forgotten. The world will never know until it's too late. A mass sacrifice… every kids… all for you, my lord. And when the offering is complete, your gift will flow into me. My beauty, my youth, my power… reborn."
Kukuku~
Her laughter started soft, then rose, filling the empty house with a shrill, unnatural glee that made the walls tremble.
Hobbs Spring Resort...
Meanwhile, inside the Hobbs Spring Resort,
Jackson leaned against the counter, keeping his voice low as he spoke with his sister Sally,
Who was practically trembling with impatience.
"Danny is ours,"
She whispered, licking her lips rubbing her thigh's together.
"I can feel it. He belongs to us—"
Jackson placed a firm hand on her shoulder, his tone sharp.
"Calm yourself. The right moment will come. We don't rush fate."
Before Sally could argue,
Jackson's phone buzzed.
He answered, pressing it to his ear.
And reported that sacrifice has been arranged with the father's blessing.
On the other end,
The voice of the old witch, Gladys, hissed like a venomous snake.
"The statue has been broken,"
She said coldly.
"Find out who dared meddle with the god's vessel."
Jackson's face hardened, and he clenched his jaw.
"Understood."
The call ended with a click, leaving only silence.
"____"
"____"
Sally's eager grin faltered into a snarl.
Grin~
"What does she mean broken? Who would—"
Jackson grabbed his coat and gestured toward the door.
"Doesn't matter. We check it ourselves. Now."
Sally fell in step beside him without hesitation.
As they strode through the halls of the resort, several of their kin—
Faces twisted by inbreeding, cruelty, and generations of darkness—
Turned their heads. When Jackson muttered the words
"The statue's been desecrated",
Every pair of eyes flared with fury.
One by one, they followed.
By the time Jackson pushed open the resort's back doors, half the family had gathered behind him.
Their footsteps echoed in unison as they marched into the night, heading toward the cave hidden deep in the woods—
The sacred site of their god.
As they made their way toward the cave, the air grew heavier, the silence almost suffocating.
Stepping inside, their eyes swept the darkness—
Only to freeze.
The statue that once stood as a silent guardian had been shattered into countless pieces, scattered across the stone floor like broken bones.
Then the stench hit them.
Acrid, unmistakable—
The smell of burning flesh.
Three puddles of ash marked the ground, two near the center, one by the wall.
Their instincts screamed danger,
But what truly made their blood run cold was not the destruction… it was the scent carried on the damp air.
Their noses flared, hearts hammering.
Splattered across the rough wall was blood.
Not just any blood.
It was painfully, horrifyingly familiar.
Family.
They knew it instantly.
Their eyes widened, dread coiling in their chests.
Suddenly, a scream tore through the silence behind them.
AHHHHHHHH!
They spun around.
"____"
"____"
"____"
It was Vic.
He had trailed them out of curiosity, sneaking along when he saw the group hurrying toward the cave.
He thought he was making a clever choice.
He couldn't have known this would become the third—
And worst—
Decision of his life.
His wide, terrified eyes darted around the cave… and then he saw it.
Rows of decaying heads lined the rocky walls, their hollow eyes staring back, their mouths frozen in silent screams.
The stench of death clung to the air, thick and suffocating.
Vic staggered back, choking on bile.
Jackson and Sally turned their heads toward him, their cold gazes sharp as blades.
The rest of the family followed, their expressions shifting into something far more terrifying.
They weren't just looking at him.
They were appraising him.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Drool gleamed at the corners of their mouths.
To them, Vic wasn't family.
He wasn't even human.
He was a meal, a trembling chicken left on their doorstep—
Served fresh.
Vic's heart thundered in his chest as he bolted for the cave's exit.
The sound of his footsteps echoed, bouncing off the damp stone,
Chased by the low growls and hisses of the family behind him.
Bursting into the woods, he didn't dare look back.
Branches clawed at his face, roots tried to snag his feet,
But still he ran, lungs burning, every fiber of his body screaming for survival.
Then—
SNAP!
A hidden mechanism triggered under his foot.
In the next instant, a sharpened wooden stake shot forward from the shadows.
It pierced straight through his chest.
Vic's body lurched violently as the branch drove him against a tree, nailing him there like some grotesque trophy.
His eyes went wide, mouth gaping in shock as blood bubbled up his throat.
"____"
He coughed, crimson spilling from his lips, streaming down his shirt, dripping onto the forest floor.
Cough~ Cough~
His arms twitched weakly, reaching out for help that would never come.
Behind him, faint rustles in the undergrowth grew louder—
The jackson and other's was closing in.
Behind the dying Vic, shadows stretched as Jackson, Sally, and the rest of their twisted family emerged from the woods.
Their eyes gleamed in the pale moonlight, hunger painted across their faces.
One of the larger men, his beard matted with grease and dried blood, stepped forward first.
He licked his lips, staring at Vic's trembling, impaled body as though it were a feast laid out on a platter.
Without hesitation,
He drew a jagged hunting knife.
"Don't let it go to waste,"
Jackson muttered coldly, folding his arms.
The cannibal grinned wide, his teeth yellow and cracked, and pressed the blade into Vic's flesh.
A strangled scream tore from Vic's throat as the knife ripped downward.
Blood poured freely, soaking the ground, the smell rich and metallic in the air.
The family began to drool, some of them rocking on their heels in anticipation, others whispering a guttural prayer to the god their witch had promised them.
Sally clasped her hands together, eyes glittering with delight.
"Fresh… still warm,"
She whispered.
The cannibal chuckled, scooping a handful of dripping flesh and raising it to his mouth.
He bit down greedily, blood smearing across his chin as the family cheered him on like spectators at a feast.
Vic's screams grew weaker, his head lolling as the life drained from his eyes—
While his killers celebrated his suffering.
Meanwhile, back at the Hobbs Spring Hotel,
Danny was locked in a heated argument with his girlfriend, Tony.
Her voice trembled with frustration as she cornered him in the hallway.
"I heard you,"
He snapped.
"Talking—about investigating the hotel behind my back. What are you hiding from me, Tony? Why can't you just be honest?"
Tony clenched his jaw, irritation flashing in her eyes.
"It's nothing, Danny. Just drop it."
"No,"
She insisted, stepping closer.
"You think I don't notice the way your family disappears at night? The strange guests who never check out? Something is wrong here—and I want the truth."
Her words struck too close, too sharp. Danny's temper flared.
"Enough!"
He barked, shoving past her.
"You don't know what you're talking about. I need some air."
He stormed out of the room, leaving Tony standing in silence, her chest rising and falling with anger.
"____"
Danny pushed open the back door of the hotel and stepped into the night.
The cool breeze brushed his face, but it did nothing to soothe his nerves.
Beyond the porch, the woods stretched endlessly, a wall of black trees that whispered with unseen life.
He lit a cigarette, inhaling sharply, trying to shake off the argument.
Yet an unease clung to him.
The woods were quiet—
Too quiet. No crickets.
No owls.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Just silence.
Danny exhaled a long stream of smoke and muttered,
"Damn it, Tony…"
Before his eyes flicked toward the dark tree line.
Somewhere out there, faintly carried on the night wind, he thought he heard it—
A scream.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
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