❝the suicide of your friend was not a suicide. it was an escape attempt.❞
⤷in which the lives of ten boys become nothing more than games and something is hiding among them.
[a pentagon au]
{completed}
(#153 in horror 1/13/18)
━ the game was not well-played but it was entertaining
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
Hongseok tried not to think that the exorcism was doomed before it even started. There were too many problems; they didn't know if any of them were possessed, they didn't have a priest, and they didn't know what to do with the salt so they just heaped it at all the entrances and exits to Changgu's bedroom, so there were piles of salt on his windowsills and beneath the crack of his door.
But Hongseok was armed with the incantations, both the normal words and the carefully-practiced Latin mantras. All of them were armed with holy water and determination to make the demon at least present itself and get it talking so they could try to figure out why it was antagonizing them and maybe how to stop it.
"Okay, is everybody ready?" Hui asked. They nodded, fidgeting with their makeshift robes (because Wikipedia had told them to look the part) and their spray bottles of holy water (obtained from the church and so contained to maximize protection abilities). They were not ready.
They stood in a circle and Hongseok took a deep breath, fighting off the voice inside his brain screaming that he was panicking and terrified that this wouldn't work—or that it would. It was like yoga or meditation, he told himself.
"God, whose nature is merciful and forgiving, accept our prayer that this servant of yours, bound by the fetters of sin, may be pardoned by your loving kindness."
Just like yoga.
A malevolent wind tore around the room and Hyojong shouted. Hongseok blocked him out, ignored how everyone suddenly brought their spray bottles up, either to attack or hide behind. He switched to the Latin chants, beseeching the demon to appear. He was repeating them when it spoke, and the temperature in the room dropped sharply.
"You think you can banish me with such pathetic efforts?" It laughed. "I can command any one of you at will, and abandon you just as easily. I cannot be banished by your silly salt piles or clumsy prayers."
Hongseok had been holding a notebook in which all his various chants, prayers, and mantras were written. As the demon's hissing words died out, something struck the book from his hands and he jumped in shock. When he grabbed his spray bottle, there were bright red claw marks marring his palms.
"Demon, tell me why you have chosen us to antagonize," Hongseok demanded. The wind blew through the room again, cold and mocking.
Hongseok picked up his notebook again and began to read through the Litany of the Saints, and as he called upon each saint he raised his voice. Though he wasn't particularly religious, he felt a sense of power and awe as he said their names; he started to believe that the names alone held power over the demon. He finished the Litany of the Saints with what he had begun with:
