THE FORSAKEN

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Story

The silence woke her. The same dream again. The circle that she could not escape, the faint flickering of candles, shadowy figures looming over her and the drums… oh god, the drums. They were so loud, deafening yet… silent. It was something she couldn’t quite understand but still she knew it frightened her. Everyday for the past 3 weeks she struggled to escape the dread that followed her around, sitting on her shoulders like a mischievous pest. A constant reminder of what waits for her at the final ritual…

Esme had been acting rather strange for the past 3 weeks. No longer does she hang out with the group, meet up for their cosy weekly coffee or even return phone calls at the best of times. She’s always withdrawn and quiet, her eyes appear sunken, encased by two deep purple semi circles and you can’t help but worry. It’s not the Esme you know. Everyday, she finishes work in a silent hurry and makes the tube journey to the edge town, walking straight to the abandoned church on 48th street. It had been abandoned for many years now, falling into a steady state of disrepair. There had been reports of noise disruptions and lights coming from inside but the police assured everyone it was just the neighbourhood kids being a nuisance. Whatever it was, people tended to avoid the building all together. You wondered what she could possibly be doing in there all by herself, but offers to accompany her are sternly rejected. It wasn’t until she came into work one day with a strange navy blue tattoo on her right forearm. It looked like it had been done with a makeshift needle, the scabs were large and there was dried blood around the edges. It had obviously been done the night before and seemed to take the shape of a horned goats head. The horrific sight of this self mutilation was when you decided that you needed to find out what she was doing in that church. And you needed to find out tonight.

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