had never seen before.
“I am watching you,” she read slowly
As soon as she read the words, she imagined the headstone actually was watching her, and she shivered violently. Sudden panic covered her like a blanket, blinding her with fear. She laughed nervously.
“This is like something out of a bad horror movie,” she said out loud, and then laughed again.
Then she turned away from the graveyard and a sudden, mindless panic gripped her, squeezing her heart, it seemed. She felt a horrible tightness in her chest and an overwhelming urge to escape. Without thinking, she ran as fast as she could, tripping over the gate, and then stumbling over branches and undergrowth as thorns bit at her legs. She ran with her head down, mute with terror and totally unaware of her surroundings. She imagined the thing—a nameless, horrible thing—watching her, chasing her....
Only after it was too late did she realize she had run off into the woods. By then she was already hopelessly lost.
-5-
Erik was astounded that there were over 4,000 entries under “Satanic Cults” on the search engine. Some were reputed cases of ritual child abuse by cultists. Some appeared to be the lunatic ramblings of paranoids who claimed that either (a) the government was a Satanic plot, or (b) they were personally being tracked down, chased, and persecuted by Satan and his minions. There were some “official” Satanic church sites that claimed that Satanists were really just rugged individualists who worshipped a god that favored “unique individuals,” a redundancy in Erik’s mind, and that these people used harmless magic to advance themselves and their personal causes, like getting rich, having lots of sex without shame, and obtaining power and control over themselves and their environment.
Then there was the site that required you to be “registered.” With some trepidation, Erik applied for a username and password, thinking that this would probably get him put on some sort of FBI hit list. He received the confirming e-mail, but still couldn’t log on until he verified his existence twice, confirmed his e-mail address again, and submitted to an age verification. He was just about to give up and move on when the password finally worked and he was able to find his way onto the message board.
There were literally hundreds of posts onto the message board, ranging from satanic theology to a discussion of when a child might be old enough to choose his religion for himself (16 years old seemed to be the consensus). Most of the messages were rather silly, and Erik had the impression that most were written by adult children who were playacting rather than serious.
However, buried deep within the archives of one of the threads he found a disturbing message from a man with the username of “Seti the First” who claimed that the voice of the Master was calling him home, calling him to the east and that he needed 12 disciples to follow him. Erik followed the thread and replies as this Seti plotted his course through the south and through New York and Connecticut. The writer claimed to have been sanctified in the blood of the innocent, and that he was personally going to set the Master free. Some of the replies treated him like the nut case he seemed to be, but there were some who seemed to be cheering this guy on, acknowledging his ideas about the flesh and blood of the innocent, and claiming to also hear voices.
Erik might have dismissed the entire thing as irrelevant were it not for Seti’s last post. He read it again.
“The voice is very close now,” Seti wrote. “I will find him before the full moon and set him free using the flesh and blood of the innocent. All who follow Him will be rewarded. Those who oppose Him will suffer misery and death at the black stone.”
The last entry was datelined Chepachet, Rhode Island.
-6-
Dovecrest turned off the six o’clock news and sat by the window, listening to the chirping of the crickets in the
“I am watching you,” she read slowly
As soon as she read the words, she imagined the headstone actually was watching her, and she shivered violently. Sudden panic covered her like a blanket, blinding her with fear. She laughed nervously.
“This is like something out of a bad horror movie,” she said out loud, and then laughed again.
Then she turned away from the graveyard and a sudden, mindless panic gripped her, squeezing her heart, it seemed. She felt a horrible tightness in her chest and an overwhelming urge to escape. Without thinking, she ran as fast as she could, tripping over the gate, and then stumbling over branches and undergrowth as thorns bit at her legs. She ran with her head down, mute with terror and totally unaware of her surroundings. She imagined the thing—a nameless, horrible thing—watching her, chasing her....
Only after it was too late did she realize she had run off into the woods. By then she was already hopelessly lost.
-5-
Erik was astounded that there were over 4,000 entries under “Satanic Cults” on the search engine. Some were reputed cases of ritual child abuse by cultists. Some appeared to be the lunatic ramblings of paranoids who claimed that either (a) the government was a Satanic plot, or (b) they were personally being tracked down, chased, and persecuted by Satan and his minions. There were some “official” Satanic church sites that claimed that Satanists were really just rugged individualists who worshipped a god that favored “unique individuals,” a redundancy in Erik’s mind, and that these people used harmless magic to advance themselves and their personal causes, like getting rich, having lots of sex without shame, and obtaining power and control over themselves and their environment.
Then there was the site that required you to be “registered.” With some trepidation, Erik applied for a username and password, thinking that this would probably get him put on some sort of FBI hit list. He received the confirming e-mail, but still couldn’t log on until he verified his existence twice, confirmed his e-mail address again, and submitted to an age verification. He was just about to give up and move on when the password finally worked and he was able to find his way onto the message board.
There were literally hundreds of posts onto the message board, ranging from satanic theology to a discussion of when a child might be old enough to choose his religion for himself (16 years old seemed to be the consensus). Most of the messages were rather silly, and Erik had the impression that most were written by adult children who were playacting rather than serious.
However, buried deep within the archives of one of the threads he found a disturbing message from a man with the username of “Seti the First” who claimed that the voice of the Master was calling him home, calling him to the east and that he needed 12 disciples to follow him. Erik followed the thread and replies as this Seti plotted his course through the south and through New York and Connecticut. The writer claimed to have been sanctified in the blood of the innocent, and that he was personally going to set the Master free. Some of the replies treated him like the nut case he seemed to be, but there were some who seemed to be cheering this guy on, acknowledging his ideas about the flesh and blood of the innocent, and claiming to also hear voices.
Erik might have dismissed the entire thing as irrelevant were it not for Seti’s last post. He read it again.
“The voice is very close now,” Seti wrote. “I will find him before the full moon and set him free using the flesh and blood of the innocent. All who follow Him will be rewarded. Those who oppose Him will suffer misery and death at the black stone.”
The last entry was datelined Chepachet, Rhode Island.
-6-
Dovecrest turned off the six o’clock news and sat by the window, listening to the chirping of the crickets in the
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