THE NIGHT I SAW A HUMAN SACRIFICE #TNTHorrorContest

THE NIGHT I SAW A HUMAN SACRIFICE

Hello. My name is Ted Landon. The story which I am about to tell you is all true. Even the names haven't been changed, including my own, to protect the "innocent" or whatever they state at the beginning of these type of stories. My story begins when I was walking home late one night from the local bar when this man who was dressed like a drug dealer from that old TV show Miami Vice with his white suit and fedora hat and fancy cane walked up to me grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Do you want to watch somebody die?" he asked me right out of the blue.

It probably goes without saying I was a little taken aback by what he said. I mean, like how many people-sane people anyway-would come right up to a complete stranger on the street and ask them straight out if they want to watch somebody die? Come on!

"Sure," I said a bit sarcastically.

I ended up following the guy to wherever it was he was going. In hindsight, that probably wasn't one of my smartest decisions. But then, I'm sure the alcohol contributed to my decision making (or lack thereof). I was surprised when I followed this guy to my next door neighbor Randall Thomas's house. I didn't know Randall personally. We never even so much as said hello to each other. He kept to himself usually. I don't even remember seeing anyone so much as visit him at his house. So you can believe me when I say I was shocked to see all these people gathered inside his house. And these weren't what you might call "normal" people as they were all dressed in their weird robes with the hoods pulled up over their heads to where I couldn't really get a good look at their faces, which I suspected was their intent. 

I was beginning to think it wasn't just mere coincidence that this guy approached me on the street and we wind up at my next door neighbor's house. I mean, what are the odds? I was about to say something about this to the guy who was standing next to me but then this other guy stepped into the room. I figured he was someone important to these people as they all of a sudden got down on their knees, lowered their heads and starting making their weird chanting noises. This guy, whoever he was, stood behind this weird altar that was placed in the middle of the room. He was also wearing robes but they were of a different color and style than the others. His hood was aso pulled up over his head and I wasn't able to see who exactly he was or if I even knew him at all. He raised his arms above his head and all of a sudden the chanting stopped. Then I got the shock of my life when he pulled his hood down and I saw it was none other than my "quiet" next door neighbor Randall Thomas himself. One side of Randall's face was painted white while the other side was painted black. He looked like the Frank Gorshin character in that one old Star Trek episode I saw. Randall lowered his hands and started speaking more words than I ever heard him say all these years of us living next to each other.

"Good bleeding," he said to the crowd who were still kneeling before him.

"Good bleeding," everyone, including the fancy-dressed guy who brought me here, said at the same time.

"Tonight, my dear brothers and sisters, will mark the beginning of the end of all the conformists who inhabit the earth." He raised up a fist and shouted, "Death to the conformists!"

"Death to the conformists!" everyone, including the fella next to me, shouted together while pumping up their own fists.

I realized right then this wasn't no sci-fi convention or some church choir meeting. This was apparently a bon-a-fide cult that Randall was apparently the leader of. I, of course, didn't know what Randall meant by "conformists" and something told me I didn't want to know.

"What the hell-" I started to say before the dude next to me shushed me.

"Quiet!" he snarled at me.