Satan's Little Helper

By

Howard T. Brooks and Marla Al Vutha (formerly JimsPet)

(October 2007)

Authors Note:

The following short story is a work of fiction, and is for entertainment purposes only. All characters are over the age of eighteen. The following topic can be quite controversial. The author does not condone or endorse the Satanic religion. The author does not practice Satan worshiping, has never taken part in a Satanic ritual, and does not have the interest or inclination to ever do so! The author does not claim to be an expert on Satanic rites or sacrifice (or even if they actually do that). Any references to the Satanic rite were found during research for another project. The author is a Pagan Witch, who does not believe in non-consensual rape. My religion teaches that the pentagram is a holy symbol representing the elements and Spirit joined. From what I understand Satanists use the Baphomet or inverted pentagram which some witches use to represent the Horned God. By the way, the beginning scene is somewhat drawn from personal experience. I'm a big chicken shit and Michael Meyers scares the piss outta me! As a final note the author would like to remind you to be safe and smart. Remember the old saying, " What ye call up, ye must be able to put back down."

*

Blue Oyster Cult's "(Don't Fear) The Reaper" came on the radio and I cranked it up.

'All our times have come

Here but now they're gone

Seasons don't fear the reaper

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain

We can be like they are'

I was trying to blur out the rerun of the horrible day that kept racing through my mind. I flicked on my high beams as I sped down the lonely back roads towards home. The car's tires squealed in protest as I took the sharp turns without a second thought.

The song made me remember the scene in the movie

Halloween

when Lori and Annie were driving down the road, smoking a joint, and Blue Oyster Cult was playing on the radio. The memory of that scene causes a chain reaction until my mind focused on the scene in the car where Annie gets it by the monster in the back seat.

"Stupid movie." I mumble turning up the radio even louder. "God, I

hate

Michael Meyers!" I wonder what the hell brought that on. I had not thought of that creepy ass movie in years!

Maybe it's just the dark road. Maybe it's just 'cause its Halloween night. I looked into the rearview mirror, double-checking the back seat, just in case.

'Come on baby... Don't fear the Reaper

Baby take my hand... Don't fear the Reaper

We'll be able to fly... Don't fear the Reaper

Baby I'm your man...'

I tried to banish thoughts of big-ass knife wielding faceless masked serial killers from my brain. I checked the rearview, just once more, just in case he had slipped in since my last check.

'Valentine is done

Here but now they're gone

Romeo and Juliet

Are together in eternity...

Romeo and Juliet'

Even though I tried to sing loudly to my favorite song, my stupid mind kept wandering back to work. I slammed my hand down on the steering wheel in anger. I should have gotten that fucking promotion! ME! Not that little slut Jessica!

I could still see the smug look on Kyle's face as he announced it to the entire floor. Kyle's smirk as he returned from an extended lunch with Jessica. The way his hand lingered just a little too long on her shoulders. The way his eyes hungrily devoured her body in the tight red dress as he announced, "I think she is perfect for the position of my assistant. I'm sure she will enjoy working under me."

'40,000 men and women everyday... Like Romeo and Juliet

40,000 men and women everyday... Redefine happiness

Another 40,000 coming everyday...We can be like they are'

I lit a cigarette. Cracked open the window, glanced in the rearview, thought better of it and put the window back up. Serial killers can pop up anywhere. Open windows are just a freaking invitation.

Why her? I had a great lunch with Kyle just the other day. He asked me if I would be interested. Fuck yeah I was, I mean better office, better pay, closer to Kyle! I was surprised he even offered me the position at all.

"Your very efficient." He said. Well that's true; no one can keep track of clients like I can.

But why her all of a sudden? Okay, I know why. She's a little slut, that's why. She probably sucked his dick during that extended lunch of theirs.

'

Come on baby... Don't fear the Reaper

Baby take my hand... Don't fear the Reaper

We'll be able to fly... Don't fear the Reaper

Baby I'm your man...'

God that song is so depressing. I hate this song. I hate Jessica. I hate Kyle. God, I'm soo depressed. Nothing ever fucking goes my way. Life sucks. I fucking try to get ahead, but nooo, little sluts like Jessica always get in my way.

Well, maybe if you dressed a little sexier,

the voice in my head popped up.

No way! I'm worth my weight in gold. I'm gonna get by on my talents not my ass or my tits.

Well, maybe if you'd showed a little ass or tits

, the voice reasoned.

You'd be staying late with Kyle right now, instead of driving home to your little trailer, full of stinking cats

.

The song continued on the radio:

'Love of two is one

Here but now they're gone

Came the last night of sadness

And it was clear we couldn't go on

The door was open and the wind appeared

The candles blew and then disappeared

The curtains flew then he appeared

Saying don't be afraid'

There was a loud hiss and the car veered suddenly to one side of the road.

"What the fuck!" I dropped my cigarette and grabbed the wheel with both hands.

Flop, Flop, Flop

I pulled the car over onto the shoulder, and got out. Walking around to the passenger side I saw the flat. "It's okay, Marcy." I said confidently. "You can change a tire. At least you ain't a prissy little slut like what's her name

. She'd

never change a tire, she'd be too afraid of breaking a slutty little nail." Somehow that made me feel better and with a smile I leaned into the passenger side door and opened the glove box. Under the piles of maps, napkins, catsup packs and other unidentifiable things there was a flashlight.

"Yes!" I said overjoyed. "Now we're cookin'. Let's get this thing changed. '

Survivor'

will be on soon."

I clicked the switch on the flashlight and…

Nothing.

It was deader than Jessica would be if looks could kill.

Still, this was nothing. My day couldn't possibly get any worse, I thought. There just

had

to be a bright side coming up. Still optimistic, I walked to the trunk of the car and opened it. There was the tire under the cover.

Wonderful.

I started looking for the jack and tire iron.

Again, nothing. Had I thought it couldn't get any worse?

"Oh, just fucking great!" I shouted kicking the side of the dark blue sedan. Flicking out the cell phone I had in my purse I shook my head in disbelief.

"No fucking way." I grumbled to myself, shoving the dead phone back into my purse. The road was totally deserted, no sign of a car anywhere. But then what else should I expect, the last three miles to my house were very country.

No houses shined their light out onto the road, and hardly any cars passed this way, especially at this time of night.

Definitely one of the downfalls of living out in the country

, I thought, pulling the sack of groceries out the back seat and slamming the door.

I looked longingly down the road towards what eventually would lead me home.

I guess I'm just gonna have to hoof it.

The sound of my heels echoed off the thick trees that lined either side of the road. I defiantly was not dressed for hiking.

"What a perfect ending to this perfect day." I mumbled to the grocery sack.

Shifting the bag in my arms, I looked down the deserted road and sighed. There was still at least two more miles separating me from my house. A light mist had settled in giving the trees an even more sinister appearance. Every noise, from the creaking of branches to the rustling of leaves, seemed amplified.

Was that an animal or someone walking? The steps sound to long and deliberate to be an animal. If that were an animal it would have to be huge, like a bear or something.

I walked a little faster, trying to escape the growing fear that was causing my eyes to dart back and forth among the dark shadows.

My feet were beginning to ache from the rapid pace I had been trying to maintain so I slowed down and considered taking off my heels.

That pavement must be ice cold

, I thought,

and it would be my luck to step on something sharp

. Letting out a sigh I could see my breath in the cold air.

"Stupid weather."

It had been much warmer this morning when I left the house. I hadn't even needed a jacket.

"Stupid weather." I said again. Then to the woods I added, "I hate the cold."

The trees seemed to move in closer, their skeletal branches reaching out for me. As my voice echoed down the empty road, I felt even more alone and vulnerable.

Thoughts of Michael Meyers stalking me from the misty shadows filled my mind, erasing all reason. I just want to get home to my cats.

"Poor things must be clawing down the walls by now. Oh, I hate to think what Mister Boots is doing. I just know he's in the trash again. And my show will be on soon, I don't want to miss the beginning. I need a hot bath and sleep."

A sudden feeling of fear came over me; it was so strong that the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight and caused my skin to prickle. Every sound on the empty road became sharp and loud. A rustle in the leaves off to my right caused me to jump and walk faster.

I had not been prepared for this; my car blowing a tire was the absolute last thing I had figured would happen tonight. It was just the icing on the top of an already crappy day.

Something large crashed in the trees just to my right. I jumped and let out a little yelp.

Silence.

I put a shaking hand to my mouth. Must have been my imagination or some stupid animal. I almost laughed out loud. Too many slasher movies on Halloween night. Too many Stephen King novels.

Still, I walked a little faster -- just in case.

As I walked, the leaves in the woods rustled along with me like someone was keeping pace with me.

I stopped.

The rustling stopped.

"Hello?" I called weakly, my heart pounding in my chest.

Silence.

"Is… is there anybody there? I have a gun?" I tried to put some confidence and authority in my voice like we had been taught in self-defense classes, but it came out sounding small and scared. No, not scared. Terrified is more like it. I held my breath, listening.

Silence.

Thank God!

I honestly didn't want to hear a reply.

I started walking slowly, cautiously, looking into the woods to see if I could see who ever or what ever it was. But it was too dark; I could not see a thing.

I picked up the pace a little, terror filling me.

"I just what to go home." I whined.

The rustling started following me again. This time it seemed to be closer and coming from

both

sides of the road.

"Whoever you are, this is

not

funny anymore!"

The only answer was the rustling of the leaves, and snapping of branches.

Dropping the sack of groceries, I started to run. My legs wobbled unsteadily as my heels struck the pavement. I hadn't gotten more than a few steps when the heel of my shoe broke causing me to twist my ankle. I had just enough time to throw my hands out in front of me before crashing to the ground.

Bouncing across the pavement, I could feel the sting on my hands, elbows, and knees from impact where the skin had been torn. I lay there dazed for a moment. The road was as silent as it had always been.

"You're such a dumb ass." I chided myself, yanking off my heels.

I could not help but laugh at myself. Here I am, running down the road all panicky. I mean, my God, it was just a friggin' squirrel, not Michael-fucking-Meyers.

Suddenly from my left something came crashing through the woods. Unbelieving terror gripped me. No way!

The things in the woods were on the move again. This time it seemed to be much closer than before. With a yelp I scrambled awkwardly to my feet and tried to run. The macadam was as cold as ice and the little rocks and pebbles bit into the tender arches of my feet. Pain shot up my leg each time my weight landed on the sprained ankle, causing me to half hop, half run.

The injured ankle held for only a few strides before giving out completely. This time I was not prepared and met the ground with a splat. My head hit pretty hard and blinding pain burst to life behind my eyes. A wave of nausea hit me and I found myself sinking into a warm and comforting darkness.

"No." I moaned snapping my eyes open. "I will not be a victim." I gritted my teeth as I staggered to my feet and limped forward favoring the ankle. The world dipped and swayed and a pounding started in my temples. I fought the urge to throw up and staggered forward.

My head was starting to clear when I saw four lights moving along the road in front of me. I squinted my eyes and the four became eight.

"Oh, thank God!" I cried as my head finally cleared and I could make out the vague shape of a van. "Thank God, thank God, thank God!"

The van slowed down and swerved to the side as I staggered down the middle of the road waving and screaming, "Please, help me!"

As it drew closer the headlights blinded me, but I thought I could just make out the outline of the van's driver.

Raising my hand to shield my eyes from the light, I felt a searing pain and a sticky wetness on my forehead.

I must have really hit my head hard. That's gonna need some stitches.

The van rolled to a stop and I pounded on the hood, "Help me! Someone is chasing me!"

The door opened and a man got out. He appeared to be dressed for a business meeting or something; kinda like my dad on Sunday when he went to church. He wore an all black suit with a crimson red tie.

"Easy now, ma'am." He said soothingly. "Calm down. What seems to be the trouble again?"

I grabbed a hold of the van for support. Panting, I tried to catch my breath.

"Ther… there... some… one's chasing… me." I swallowed hard. "My car… tire blew… a few miles back," I began to babble. I knew I was babbling, but I couldn't stop.

Shut up, Marcy!

"…and I am trying to get home. My cats… and then…"

I heard a crash in the woods behind me.

It was Michael Meyers!

I thought.

"There! He's

coming!

" I screamed, grabbing a hold of his jacket. "We've got to get

out

of here!! Let's go!"

The driver put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. For a moment I felt safe.

My savior! Michael Meyers would just have to find another victim tonight

. I thought.

"There, there, my child," he said in a calm, fatherly tone. "It will be alright now."

I looked at him. Was he a preacher? He didn't

seem

to be a preacher. I could hear Michael Meyers footsteps on the road now getting closer. I tried to run, but he held me tight.

"I told you everything would be okay now." He said, his tone changing from fatherly to commanding.

It was then that I noticed the medallion around his neck. It was a pentagram; the sign of Satan!

"Oh shit!" I whispered in realization. "This is only supposed to happen in scary stories!"

"Who's to say this isn't a scary story." The man said, taking a tighter grip on my arm. "Who's to say you and I aren't a figment of some writers imagination."

I looked behind me and saw four figures moving up towards the van. They were dressed in black robes with deep hoods that hid their faces behind the shadows of moonlight.

"We can't be!" I cried. "Because if we were I would have gotten away."

I felt a sharp pain in my arm and cried out. The van's interior light gleamed off the now empty syringe as he pulled it from my upper arm. "What was that?" I asked.

"The heroine doesn't win in every story, my child." He whispered sympathetically in my ear, ignoring my question. Quickly my vision began to blur and legs felt shaky and weak.

"Besides, who says

you're

the heroine." He said lifting me up and carrying me around to the back of the van. Things were getting fuzzy now and his voice sounded so far away. "There always has to be a first victim."

"I just want to go home…" I said as the darkness claimed me.

I struggled through the inky darkness to the sound of chanting voices. My head throbbed and all I could remember was a thick fog.

Where am I?

I tried to open my eyes, but they were too heavy. My whole body was numb. I tried lifting my hand and legs.

Nothing.

The chanting continued around me. The hard thing I was laying on seemed to vibrate with the sound. I lay still for a moment trying to focus on the voices, trying to hear what they were saying. It was Latin, or something that sounded like Latin. The few words I could make out were way off the mark, however.

Bonnnngggg!

Every nerve in my body spasmed and jumped as a gong was struck. My eyes snapped open and the memory came flooding back to me. My car blowing a tire, something was chasing me through the woods, the man in the van with the pentacle around his neck.

"My children, we have come together this night to worship the Beast. To give praise for His word, and on this the most powerful night of the year we shall summon Him. Asking Him to grant His power to His devoted children."

It was the voice of the preacher, no he was not the voice of God, at least not the God I had worshiped. He was the voice of Satan, a priest of Hell.

The Beast? Oh my God! They really are Satan worshipers.

I tried to look around, but it was dark. There was no light other than candles that lined the walls, casting the room in flickering and dancing shadows. There was a disturbingly painted statue of Jesus on the cross above my head. I flinched in horror at its sight. The thorns oozed blood, his eyes were painted to black nothings, giving the illusion that they had been gouged from their sockets.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a steadying breath and tried not to look at the horrid image that had burned itself into my brain.

"Oh please, God," I prayed. "Please get me out of this. Please help me."

I struggled with my numb body.

Get up, Marcy! Get Up!

But for all my straining and efforts, my body wouldn't respond.

The preacher stepped into my line of sight. I could just barely see his face beneath the black hood that he now wore. He held a dagger in his hand.

He looked at me and smiled. "And this," he said, flourishing the dagger, "shall be our sacrifice!"

A chorus of cheers went up from the robed figures that stood just beyond the candlelight. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.

"Let us call to the Legions." He said moving beyond my sight once more.

I could hear movement around me but until the room grew quiet it was hard to pinpoint where the priest had gone. From somewhere to my right his voice finally rose up loud and clear.

"Hail Legions of the west." He said. "I seek to join you in the service of our Lord Satan. God of Hell. God of this world and God of freedom! Hail ancient serpent! Dragon of the primal sea!"

"Hail! Hail!" the others shouted.

Every muscle in my body was shaking. This can't be happening. This has got to be some kind of sick joke. I mean this can't be real. Desperately I searched the faces of the robed coveners, almost hoping to see Kyle or Little Miss Slut among them. Verification that this was indeed a joke, but there was no sign of them.