Compelled by Ritual

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

Sound echoed through the winding passages of the fissure, ultimately coming from a great cavern where naked men danced in a circle. Ringing them, women beat drums and if not drums, their thighs or the walls.

There was only one light, a fearful red tongue passed from man to man, illuminating the hard contours of their bodies and the frantic fear on their faces. As it moved, a clinging sea of shadows continually chased it, devouring where it had been.

The rhythm that had started as an invitation grew more and more frenetic as the women increased their tempo. No longer an invitation it was an ultimatum to show up or else. Twisting and twirling, the men danced on, flinging a greasy spray with every whip of their limbs.

Near the unseen ceiling above, a sound arose like a great flapping of membranous wings, not like a cloud of bats but rather a single, cyclopean entity. At that sound the light vanished but they could all feel an awful presence descending down toward them, to the frenzied beat of their drumming.


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Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Don't wake the dragon.

  • #3349 Posted 5 years ago
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