Post by Graveyardbride on Oct 27, 2014 0:56:27 GMT -5
The Great Rite
Fall comes early in the mountains of north Georgia and by late September, the woods were painted in shades of brilliant gold, orange and red. Dirk Ball walked outside that morning after Tracey, his wife, left for work and before the two kids woke up. They had just purchased the 2-acre tract of land in the small mountain town. The house was a rambling, nondescript structure built in the 1950s and added to as the original builder’s family grew. The cheap metal-framed windows gave the place a “mobile home” look, but that didn’t bother the Balls because until now, they had always lived in mobile homes. Outside, the white paint was peeling, the eaves were matted with cobwebs and the place could have used a good pressure-washing, and both the floor and ceiling of the porch were in dire need of paint. Inside was no better. There was linoleum throughout the house and it was badly worn, the kitchen cabinets needed to be replaced and the walls were just plain dirty and probably hadn’t been painted since the original owner sold up and moved to Florida. But this didn’t bother the Balls either because every room was piled up with garage-sale furniture, toys and other junk. They had never lived in any other way.
Dirk was a stay-at-home dad who had served a very short stint in the Army when he was much younger, where he had been such a bungler that he barely made it through basic training. He was an odious, not very bright individual with a huge inferiority complex and because of this, other soldiers had picked on him. But Dirk had managed to turn the bullying into a gold mine by faking PTSD and other injuries and he’d been drawing a hefty check from the Veterans Administration ever since. Living without having to work had made it possible for him to whore around, take up with one loony woman after the other and indulge in various perversions, which included bondage and threesomes.
Now Dirk was claiming to be a pagan priest, a “true mountain wizard,” as he called himself, drawing upon the fact he had been born and grew up in the mountains of eastern Tennessee. Before moving from Tennessee to north Georgia, he and Tracey had turned one room of their mobile home into a “pagan shop,” where they sold New Age books, cheap statues and Wiccan paraphernalia – basically junk.
Because he had nothing to do all day except watch the kids, he created a website and convinced himself that every “visitor” to the site was a “follower,” thus, in his crackbrained mind, he had thousands of followers. He wore long tunic-like garments, sometimes over jeans, and at other times, over nothing. His wife dressed in a similar manner, in what neo-pagans, Wiccans and other New Age simpletons imagine to be the way the ancient pagans dressed, but she worked every day at the local K-Mart and had to wear normal clothing part of the time.
To anyone who would listen, Dirk claimed he and his wife had been invited to the community by fellow pagans in need of a leader and a place to worship. The truth was, however, that so far, his followers consisted of four women (including his wife) and one man, all of whom were fellow misfits. Another truth that he didn’t want to face was that he bought the property with plans to set up a pagan church and store in his home without checking the city’s zoning laws. Now that he had learned – the hard way – that he could not operate a place of worship and shop in a residential home, he spent most of his time on the internet whining about “discrimination.”
Thinking he heard one of the children inside, Dirk hurried back into the dilapidated house and sat down at the computer – where he spent most of his time. Lately he had been involved in an online pissing contest with people who called him a loser, an idiot, white trash and other choice names, and worse, accused him of scamming the government. Now, he had to be careful to use his cane when he was outdoors because he had been caught on video walking without it and it was just a matter of time before some busybody sent the link to the local VA outpatient clinic. He had also made the mistake of bragging in an online discussion about how he fooled doctors into prescribing any drug he wanted and the doctors would likely learn about that too and try to cut off or reduce his meds. He couldn’t understand why everyone was out to get him. The same thing had happened when he was growing up and all through elementary and high school and the same thing had happened in the Army. People accused him of having a persecution complex, but he hadn’t done anything wrong, it was them! It was always them!
Lisa, one of the women he’d met who called herself a Wiccan had said there was a Dianic coven operating in the town and that some people suspected the members were responsible for three unsolved disappearances, which had occurred in 1984, 1994 and 2004. Because the years the missing people disappeared ended in the number 4 and there was a 10-year separation between them, many thought the disappearances were connected to a witches’ or Satanic coven. Since learning this, Dirk had spent hours on the computer trying to find out something about the group, but there was nothing. He had also asked several of the townsfolk, but they hadn’t been forthcoming and went out of their way to avoid him. Even the women in the local library weren’t helpful and only with a great deal of reluctance did one of them point him in the direction of the books on witchcraft and the occult. Not that he was into the occult; he did not do, or help others do hexing spells and was quick to discourage those who were interested in black magic.
He had told Tracey of his desire to find and perhaps join the local coven, but she wasn’t encouraging and reminded him that Dianic covens did not accept males. But from what he had read, long ago witches worshiped The Horned God, which he believed, was nothing more than a man wearing the head of a horned animal. Dirk had become obsessed with the elusive coven and imagined becoming their leader. He fancied himself a ladies’ man and did not hesitate to flirt with other women when his wife wasn’t around. More than likely, he told himself, the reason there were no men in this coven was because none was interested, but if a man expressed an interest in witchcraft, he was certain those women would welcome him with open arms.
It was next to the last week in October by the time he got a lead on the mysterious coven. He heard that most of the women who were believed to be involved lived in an apartment complex on one of the main roads. Appropriately enough, the place was called Silent Grove and many of those who lived there were either retired, independently wealthy, or worked either at the local college or in a large city just a few miles north. The property was on the banks of the river and there were woods to the north and south. In fact, the woods to the north extended for miles.
Dirk didn’t say anything to Tracey about what he had discovered and as soon as she left for work on Wednesday morning, he called Lisa and asked her to babysit. He knew she would because she wasn’t working and could use the extra money. As soon as she arrived, he drove to Silent Grove, where he pretended to be looking for an apartment. The woman in the office was a friendly, tall, 40ish redhead, who offered him a cup of coffee. She introduced herself, asked him to call her Bridget, and before long, Dirk was telling her that he was a pagan priest, had just moved to town and was looking for like-minded people. She seemed interested and he revealed that he hoped to be able to open a shop and place for pagans to gather and worship. She admitted that she was also interested in witchcraft. For once, he had sense enough not to come on too strongly and took a brochure and left, telling her he would think about it and perhaps return to see the one-bedroom apartment that was available.
Dirk was so antsy that night that Tracey kept asking what was wrong. He said he was just upset about the zoning situation and the cold shoulder they were getting from the locals. Friday morning, as soon as she left for work, he again called Lisa and drove back to Silent Grove, where he was once again welcomed by Bridget. The community was exceptionally well-kept and appeared to have been constructed in a grove of huge oak trees, which was probably why it was named Silent Grove. There were other trees as well, blocking the bright light of the sun. Bridget explained that apartments were seldom available at Silent Grove because most of the residents stayed until they died. When she opened the door to the vacant unit, the neighbor from next door – a pretty, curvaceous brunette who appeared to be in her late 30s – came out to see what was going on and Bridget introduced her as Abby. Bridget explained Dirk was a pagan priest and Abby, too, seemed genuinely interested and the two women listened carefully to everything he said. “We’re having a little get-together on Halloween,” Abby finally said. “Would you like to join us?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Bridget chimed in, “I was thinking of inviting him myself, but wanted to wait until I talked it over with you and the others.”
Dirk couldn’t believe his luck. He had those women eating out of his hand. But Halloween was just a week away and how the hell was he going to avoid the kids, who expected to be taken trick-or-treating; or Tracey and the other four members of their group, who were expecting to attend a Samhain ritual, which he was supposed to lead? He called Bridget and asked for the time and location of the Halloween party and she said the feasting would begin at 7 p.m. and if he would be at Abby’s apartment by 6:30, she would direct him. He’d have to think of something to tell Tracey. Then it came to him, he would tell her he was driving to the city where there was a Wiccan store to pick up some things, then call and say he had car trouble and was at a service station. While they were talking, he’d say his cell phone battery was low and that he might not be able to call back, but that he would be home as soon as possible. In the meantime, he’d tell her to take the kids trick-or-treating and get everything ready for Samhain.
He was positively giddy the week before Halloween and several times, he was so lost in thought imagining what was going to happen on Halloween night that the kids would have to ask several times before he heard them, and Tracey noticed he was unusually preoccupied. If the coven did want him to dress as the Horned God, presumably, they would provide the mask. Bridget hadn’t mentioned what he was to wear, so he would don his black robe trimmed in gold. Thus far, his daydreams involved only Abby, but in case he was expected to “service” more than one woman, he would have to take Viagra, so he checked to see how many he had left.
Halloween night and Dirk called Tracey with his preplanned lie and arrived at Abby’s door a little before 6:30. She was wearing a long, burgundy robe-like dress that appeared to be made of silk. It was already dark and she grabbed a lantern and they left immediately. They entered the woods to the north and walked along a path until they came to a clearing in which there was a huge bonfire. There were long tables with orange cloths set up and a buffet containing all sorts of food: roast beef, fried chicken, ham and numerous side dishes and desserts, including loaves of freshly-baked pumpkin bread. He counted 13 enormous, grinning jack-o-lanterns and there were numerous pots of mums in fall colors.
As soon as they arrived, Dirk was offered a potent drink he could not identify and try as he might, he could not count the number of witches present, all of whom were wearing the same style dress as that worn by Abby in various dark colors, including black, green, blue, purple and brown.
Once the feast was over, the women partially cleared the tables and some of them began to dance, while others stood around laughing and talking. He wanted to join them, but the drinks had gone to his head and he was somewhat woozy. He shouldn’t have drank on an empty stomach he told himself. As the women talked, he could make out snippets of conversation: “I thought he looked familiar ... not much of a specimen ... sacrifice ... he deserves it ... the coming year ... time for the great rite ... it’s time ....” Dirk smiled to himself. He knew the “Great Rite” meant sex magic created by the coupling of the High Priest and Priestess. He reached in his pocket for one of his little blue pills and downed it with a small amount of the potent drink. He wasn’t sure which one was the High Priestess, but hoped it was Abby. By this time, the women had formed a circle, held hands and danced widdershins.
After much chanting and dancing, one of the women he had not met came over, reached out her hand and led him to the altar. He was ready in more ways than one and soon he was looking into the deep, limpid eyes of Abby. As the other women danced, a witch wearing dark green and carrying a golden chalice moved to his right and Abby, holding her athamé, slowly came toward them. His member was so erect, it was clearly detectable beneath his robe. He was familiar with this ritual, she was going to plunge the instrument into the goblet of wine, a symbolic gesture of the coupling of male and female. Now she was within inches, holding the athamé high above her head with both hands. He smiled in horny anticipation.
An anguished bellow like that of a stuck bull suddenly pierced the darkness as Abby plunged the athamé into Dirk’s left jugular vein. As he crumpled to the ground, the green-clad witch filled the chalice with the blood spurting from his neck, after which, she turned to the altar and offered Dirk’s lifeblood to Pale Hecate. The Great Rite was over. – Anonymous
Fall comes early in the mountains of north Georgia and by late September, the woods were painted in shades of brilliant gold, orange and red. Dirk Ball walked outside that morning after Tracey, his wife, left for work and before the two kids woke up. They had just purchased the 2-acre tract of land in the small mountain town. The house was a rambling, nondescript structure built in the 1950s and added to as the original builder’s family grew. The cheap metal-framed windows gave the place a “mobile home” look, but that didn’t bother the Balls because until now, they had always lived in mobile homes. Outside, the white paint was peeling, the eaves were matted with cobwebs and the place could have used a good pressure-washing, and both the floor and ceiling of the porch were in dire need of paint. Inside was no better. There was linoleum throughout the house and it was badly worn, the kitchen cabinets needed to be replaced and the walls were just plain dirty and probably hadn’t been painted since the original owner sold up and moved to Florida. But this didn’t bother the Balls either because every room was piled up with garage-sale furniture, toys and other junk. They had never lived in any other way.
Dirk was a stay-at-home dad who had served a very short stint in the Army when he was much younger, where he had been such a bungler that he barely made it through basic training. He was an odious, not very bright individual with a huge inferiority complex and because of this, other soldiers had picked on him. But Dirk had managed to turn the bullying into a gold mine by faking PTSD and other injuries and he’d been drawing a hefty check from the Veterans Administration ever since. Living without having to work had made it possible for him to whore around, take up with one loony woman after the other and indulge in various perversions, which included bondage and threesomes.
Now Dirk was claiming to be a pagan priest, a “true mountain wizard,” as he called himself, drawing upon the fact he had been born and grew up in the mountains of eastern Tennessee. Before moving from Tennessee to north Georgia, he and Tracey had turned one room of their mobile home into a “pagan shop,” where they sold New Age books, cheap statues and Wiccan paraphernalia – basically junk.
Because he had nothing to do all day except watch the kids, he created a website and convinced himself that every “visitor” to the site was a “follower,” thus, in his crackbrained mind, he had thousands of followers. He wore long tunic-like garments, sometimes over jeans, and at other times, over nothing. His wife dressed in a similar manner, in what neo-pagans, Wiccans and other New Age simpletons imagine to be the way the ancient pagans dressed, but she worked every day at the local K-Mart and had to wear normal clothing part of the time.
To anyone who would listen, Dirk claimed he and his wife had been invited to the community by fellow pagans in need of a leader and a place to worship. The truth was, however, that so far, his followers consisted of four women (including his wife) and one man, all of whom were fellow misfits. Another truth that he didn’t want to face was that he bought the property with plans to set up a pagan church and store in his home without checking the city’s zoning laws. Now that he had learned – the hard way – that he could not operate a place of worship and shop in a residential home, he spent most of his time on the internet whining about “discrimination.”
Thinking he heard one of the children inside, Dirk hurried back into the dilapidated house and sat down at the computer – where he spent most of his time. Lately he had been involved in an online pissing contest with people who called him a loser, an idiot, white trash and other choice names, and worse, accused him of scamming the government. Now, he had to be careful to use his cane when he was outdoors because he had been caught on video walking without it and it was just a matter of time before some busybody sent the link to the local VA outpatient clinic. He had also made the mistake of bragging in an online discussion about how he fooled doctors into prescribing any drug he wanted and the doctors would likely learn about that too and try to cut off or reduce his meds. He couldn’t understand why everyone was out to get him. The same thing had happened when he was growing up and all through elementary and high school and the same thing had happened in the Army. People accused him of having a persecution complex, but he hadn’t done anything wrong, it was them! It was always them!
Lisa, one of the women he’d met who called herself a Wiccan had said there was a Dianic coven operating in the town and that some people suspected the members were responsible for three unsolved disappearances, which had occurred in 1984, 1994 and 2004. Because the years the missing people disappeared ended in the number 4 and there was a 10-year separation between them, many thought the disappearances were connected to a witches’ or Satanic coven. Since learning this, Dirk had spent hours on the computer trying to find out something about the group, but there was nothing. He had also asked several of the townsfolk, but they hadn’t been forthcoming and went out of their way to avoid him. Even the women in the local library weren’t helpful and only with a great deal of reluctance did one of them point him in the direction of the books on witchcraft and the occult. Not that he was into the occult; he did not do, or help others do hexing spells and was quick to discourage those who were interested in black magic.
He had told Tracey of his desire to find and perhaps join the local coven, but she wasn’t encouraging and reminded him that Dianic covens did not accept males. But from what he had read, long ago witches worshiped The Horned God, which he believed, was nothing more than a man wearing the head of a horned animal. Dirk had become obsessed with the elusive coven and imagined becoming their leader. He fancied himself a ladies’ man and did not hesitate to flirt with other women when his wife wasn’t around. More than likely, he told himself, the reason there were no men in this coven was because none was interested, but if a man expressed an interest in witchcraft, he was certain those women would welcome him with open arms.
It was next to the last week in October by the time he got a lead on the mysterious coven. He heard that most of the women who were believed to be involved lived in an apartment complex on one of the main roads. Appropriately enough, the place was called Silent Grove and many of those who lived there were either retired, independently wealthy, or worked either at the local college or in a large city just a few miles north. The property was on the banks of the river and there were woods to the north and south. In fact, the woods to the north extended for miles.
Dirk didn’t say anything to Tracey about what he had discovered and as soon as she left for work on Wednesday morning, he called Lisa and asked her to babysit. He knew she would because she wasn’t working and could use the extra money. As soon as she arrived, he drove to Silent Grove, where he pretended to be looking for an apartment. The woman in the office was a friendly, tall, 40ish redhead, who offered him a cup of coffee. She introduced herself, asked him to call her Bridget, and before long, Dirk was telling her that he was a pagan priest, had just moved to town and was looking for like-minded people. She seemed interested and he revealed that he hoped to be able to open a shop and place for pagans to gather and worship. She admitted that she was also interested in witchcraft. For once, he had sense enough not to come on too strongly and took a brochure and left, telling her he would think about it and perhaps return to see the one-bedroom apartment that was available.
Dirk was so antsy that night that Tracey kept asking what was wrong. He said he was just upset about the zoning situation and the cold shoulder they were getting from the locals. Friday morning, as soon as she left for work, he again called Lisa and drove back to Silent Grove, where he was once again welcomed by Bridget. The community was exceptionally well-kept and appeared to have been constructed in a grove of huge oak trees, which was probably why it was named Silent Grove. There were other trees as well, blocking the bright light of the sun. Bridget explained that apartments were seldom available at Silent Grove because most of the residents stayed until they died. When she opened the door to the vacant unit, the neighbor from next door – a pretty, curvaceous brunette who appeared to be in her late 30s – came out to see what was going on and Bridget introduced her as Abby. Bridget explained Dirk was a pagan priest and Abby, too, seemed genuinely interested and the two women listened carefully to everything he said. “We’re having a little get-together on Halloween,” Abby finally said. “Would you like to join us?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Bridget chimed in, “I was thinking of inviting him myself, but wanted to wait until I talked it over with you and the others.”
Dirk couldn’t believe his luck. He had those women eating out of his hand. But Halloween was just a week away and how the hell was he going to avoid the kids, who expected to be taken trick-or-treating; or Tracey and the other four members of their group, who were expecting to attend a Samhain ritual, which he was supposed to lead? He called Bridget and asked for the time and location of the Halloween party and she said the feasting would begin at 7 p.m. and if he would be at Abby’s apartment by 6:30, she would direct him. He’d have to think of something to tell Tracey. Then it came to him, he would tell her he was driving to the city where there was a Wiccan store to pick up some things, then call and say he had car trouble and was at a service station. While they were talking, he’d say his cell phone battery was low and that he might not be able to call back, but that he would be home as soon as possible. In the meantime, he’d tell her to take the kids trick-or-treating and get everything ready for Samhain.
He was positively giddy the week before Halloween and several times, he was so lost in thought imagining what was going to happen on Halloween night that the kids would have to ask several times before he heard them, and Tracey noticed he was unusually preoccupied. If the coven did want him to dress as the Horned God, presumably, they would provide the mask. Bridget hadn’t mentioned what he was to wear, so he would don his black robe trimmed in gold. Thus far, his daydreams involved only Abby, but in case he was expected to “service” more than one woman, he would have to take Viagra, so he checked to see how many he had left.
Halloween night and Dirk called Tracey with his preplanned lie and arrived at Abby’s door a little before 6:30. She was wearing a long, burgundy robe-like dress that appeared to be made of silk. It was already dark and she grabbed a lantern and they left immediately. They entered the woods to the north and walked along a path until they came to a clearing in which there was a huge bonfire. There were long tables with orange cloths set up and a buffet containing all sorts of food: roast beef, fried chicken, ham and numerous side dishes and desserts, including loaves of freshly-baked pumpkin bread. He counted 13 enormous, grinning jack-o-lanterns and there were numerous pots of mums in fall colors.
As soon as they arrived, Dirk was offered a potent drink he could not identify and try as he might, he could not count the number of witches present, all of whom were wearing the same style dress as that worn by Abby in various dark colors, including black, green, blue, purple and brown.
Once the feast was over, the women partially cleared the tables and some of them began to dance, while others stood around laughing and talking. He wanted to join them, but the drinks had gone to his head and he was somewhat woozy. He shouldn’t have drank on an empty stomach he told himself. As the women talked, he could make out snippets of conversation: “I thought he looked familiar ... not much of a specimen ... sacrifice ... he deserves it ... the coming year ... time for the great rite ... it’s time ....” Dirk smiled to himself. He knew the “Great Rite” meant sex magic created by the coupling of the High Priest and Priestess. He reached in his pocket for one of his little blue pills and downed it with a small amount of the potent drink. He wasn’t sure which one was the High Priestess, but hoped it was Abby. By this time, the women had formed a circle, held hands and danced widdershins.
After much chanting and dancing, one of the women he had not met came over, reached out her hand and led him to the altar. He was ready in more ways than one and soon he was looking into the deep, limpid eyes of Abby. As the other women danced, a witch wearing dark green and carrying a golden chalice moved to his right and Abby, holding her athamé, slowly came toward them. His member was so erect, it was clearly detectable beneath his robe. He was familiar with this ritual, she was going to plunge the instrument into the goblet of wine, a symbolic gesture of the coupling of male and female. Now she was within inches, holding the athamé high above her head with both hands. He smiled in horny anticipation.
An anguished bellow like that of a stuck bull suddenly pierced the darkness as Abby plunged the athamé into Dirk’s left jugular vein. As he crumpled to the ground, the green-clad witch filled the chalice with the blood spurting from his neck, after which, she turned to the altar and offered Dirk’s lifeblood to Pale Hecate. The Great Rite was over. – Anonymous
