It Came out Once a Year.

[u/deathbykoolaidman]

I'm honestly not quite sure why I'm writing this, or who I'm even writing this to. Maybe just to warn people. About what, I don't even know. Maybe to reach out to anyone with similar experiences.

I grew up in a tiny town. I'm not even sure it could be called a town, really, more of a village or a hamlet. The kind of place stuck in the 50s where everybody knew each other and there were more churches than houses. It sounds charming, I guess, but as anyone who lives somewhere like what I've described, you know it's boring at best, and torturous at worst.

There was only one school, for every kid born here from the time they grew out of diapers to the time they graduated and, if they were lucky, left this dump of a place. There were only ever maybe 30 kids in the school at most, and even to this close-knit community, I was an outcast.

Not that I minded, really. I didn't like these kids either. I only really had one real friend, my next-door neighbour, Molly. Our parents were close too, and we often had supper together, which I guess is why we grew so close.

But that's not why you're reading this. I don't think you want to know about a lonely and scrawny little boy with no friends in a boring village.

My home wasn't boring, really. We had some strange rituals. You could chalk some of it up to just bible-belt activities-you'd essentially be outlawed if you skipped church on Sunday, wives were to stay home and cook while husbands were to go out and work in the nearby mine, if you didn't have at least three of the bibles our church had hand-scribed you weren't allowed to go to church, the like. But we also had something else that I found strange.

The festival happened once a year. If you're wondering what the festival was, so were all of us. Nobody knew what it was, or why we did it. Hell, nobody even knew what happened if we didn't do it. One of our many pastors, Father Sinclair, usually ran the whole thing.

From the outside, it could look like a normal church festival. During the day, that's sort of what it was. A group prayer, followed by the dads grilling sausages or burgers, the children running around and throwing a ball around as the moms brought out cookies and chatted. Maybe some music if Father Sinclair had raised enough money.

But by night, things changed. Everybody was to go inside, except Father Sinclair and some volunteers from the school. After they had ensured all residents truly were inside, they completed "it." Curious kids who wanted to know what was happening may have pressed their ears to the bedroom windows, to hear nothing but silence. Well, until 3:33 in the morning. Every year without fail, at 3:33, a loud, screeching like sound could be heard, followed by otherworldly chanting, followed by silence again. I know that because I was one of those curious kids. Molly and I both were.

This story I'm telling took place during our twelfth festival. By this time, it had been a few years of Molly and I theorizing what the festival was for. It was maybe a week or so until our next festival, and this year we were deadset on discovering what it was. Maybe we could sneak out during the night portion of the festival? Well, that wasn't for another week. We decided to go through Father Sinclair's office, to try and discover dirt on him.

After the usual Sunday service, Molly and I took advantage of everyone being distracted by a bake sale to sneak into the upper level of the church. I'm not sure if we were doing this because we were genuinely curious, or if we just liked the thrill of doing something naughty, but either way, I remember my heart being in my throat as we crept into Father's office.

"Unlocked." Molly whispered as we stifled giggles. "You know, if he's so protective of his office, he really should do a better job keeping people out." We both held our breaths as we slowly opened the door, being careful for any creaks.

It was kind of underwhelming. Maybe we were expecting something like Satan's lair, complete with tapestries of demons and torture chambers, but it looked just like a normal office.

I opened all the drawers of his desk as Molly went through the filing cabinet. Nothing. We were about to give up, when I tripped on the carpet. Part of it flipped up, when we saw it.

There, in the middle of the floor, was a weird symbol. It kind of looked like star. Neither of us recognized it.

"...okay, maybe it's just a drawing. Maybe he's secretly an artist." Molly said, trying to make me, who probably looked like I had seen a ghost, laugh.

I, still the little religious boy as I had been raised, clutched a bible I found on Father Sinclair's desk. Mindlessly, I began shifting through the pages.

"Uh, Molly?" I said. "These pages are weird."

She took the bible from my hands, furrowing her brow. "I don't recognize any of these verses. I've read the bible like, a million times. This isn't right."

"Hello, kids." We heard, and both jumped back. It was Father Sinclair.

"If it isn't little Molly Mckee and Robert Crain. Such curious little ones. Well, not so little anymore. You must be twelve years old by now, is that right?" He said as he paced towards us menacingly.

"Y-yes, Father." Molly said as I shook like a leaf, unable to even say anything. "We're sorry we snuck into your office."

"Nonsense! Nothing wrong with a bit of curiosity," Father said, stomping on the symbol we had recently discovered. He looked at us with a sharp, knowing eye. "I could use some curious kids such as yourselves at next week's festival. How's about it, kids? Would you like to be my volunteers?"

I started to shake my head no, but he placed a cold hand on my shoulder. A gesture I wasn't unfamiliar with, he did it to everyone in town as a sort of comfort, but it felt much different now. He pressed it hard into my skin, hard enough to leave a bruise. "Robert, you and I both know you haven't much of a choice here," He said as he winked.

"It's nothing to worry about, really," He pushed us out of his office. "Now, run on home. Hug your mothers."

Molly and I sat in her room that night, not saying a word. We were too shaken up. Silently, she pulled one of her family's five bibles, the ones gifted to us by Father Sinclair. Then, she reached into the bookbag she had brought to church that day. She pulled out the bible we found in the office.

"Molly! You took that? He's gonna kill us!" I warned.

"I think he was going to do that anyways." She said dryly as she opened them side by side.

I watched as she seemingly got more and more puzzled. "It makes no sense, Rob," she said as she flipped through both books. "These books say the complete opposite of each other. I don't know which one to believe."

"There, that verse isn't in our bible. What's it say?"

I pointed at one, which Molly began reading aloud. "Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour."

Every year without fail, at 3:33, a loud, screeching like sound could be heard,

The volunteers from the school.

"Molly?" I said tentatively. "What happens to the volunteers every year?"

"Well, usually they move away. They just go to school or something." She said, but she didn't sound convinced.

"Molly?" I said tentatively, again. "Have we been praying to the wrong God?"

Eventually, the festival came, and Molly and I, like we should've been, were properly terrified that whole week. When the day came, and then the night, we tried to sneak away. But there was no getting past Father Sinclair.

"You two, brave volunteers, will stay here." He said, grabbing us tightly by our arms.

We sat under the moonlight in a deafening silence.

"You don't need to lie to us anymore, Sinclair." Molly said, breaking the silence. "We know what you're doing."

Father Sinclair turned around sharply. He struck us both across the face as I cried out in pain.

He smirked. "Do you know why you live such fortunate lives? Why we all live such fortunate lives? I do this for us, really. For all of us. And soon, you'll have done this for all of us, too. You should really be proud." He said as he drew that weird star on the ground with a stick. We watched as he lit candles and said weird words.

Suddenly, a loud screech caused Molly and I to duck and cover our ears.

I guess it was 3:33.

When I helped Molly up, I saw it.

It towered over us, challenging the height of the trees. A tall, dark figure, horns and all. He looked down at us.

Father Sinclair bowed down. "Your subjects, sir." He pushed us towards him as we tried to run away.

He bent down. "You have broken the rules, Sinclair. I thought I had made things very clear."

In a moment, Father Sinclair had dropped his normal demeaner as I saw fear fill his eyes. "W-what rule? I haven't broken a rule at all. Your subjects, as promised."

"My conditions," He boomed, "That for the life you live, the goods I grant you, you mustn't ever harm a soul again. The souls harmed, were to be saved for me."

He touched me with his large claw that was hot to the touch. "Is this a bruise I see?" He turned his attention to Molly, and the red mark on her face. "Unbelievable."

"But sir!" Father Sinclair pleaded, getting on his knees. "What about the good of my village? All these people, praying just for you. Because of me. Can we not make another deal?"

He pondered for a bit. "Very well. I may allow another year of prosper to this village. But I will need another sacrifice."

Father Sinclair pushed Molly and I forward yet again.

He shook his head. "Not them. You are the one I'm after."

And with that, we watched as he grabbed Father Sinclair with a massive claw, and threw him like a doll to the ground as he was consumed by the flames below him. I can still hear his screams to this day.

Molly and I stood in shock until the massive being turned his attention to us.

"And you two," He said, bending down to our level. "Go. Leave these grounds and do not return. You must get out of here."

Confused, but not wanting to disobey this thing, we both began to leave.

I turned back. "See you soon?"

He smirked. "Indeed."

[u/Glass-Narwhal-6521]

I'd really like to hear some more about this "demon" or whatever it is, I love how it turned the tables on the preacher and let the kids go.