The smell of incense overwhelmed his nostrils penetratively, like hungry parasite worms eager to enter the host. The Master stood there right before his eyes, deep in thought with his eyes shut. There appeared to be some kind of muttering underneath his unkept moustache and beard, his sparse, wisp white hair uncomed but neatly kept back, streaked with a history of wisdom and experience. Master was lean and clad in yellow robes, and not too tall, probably around 160 centimeters tall, but yet unanimously in his follower's heart, he stood and loomed as tall as the sky.
The follower couldn't stand his heart's curiosity and peeked slightly with his right eye. He tried to look at his friend left to him, tilting his head slightly sideways. Even his friend was looked in trance with his head tilted upwards and eyes closed, with trails of gray smoke enveloping the air around him, as if on drugs. The friend who brought him to the "Meeting". The friend who brought him to the "Sect". The friend who brought him to the "Master".
Within the small, dimly lit and empty room he was in, there were almost 20 followers sitting on the floor with their legs crossed facing the altar. All of them seemed to be falling into a similiar state of semi-consciousness. The sweet sickly smell that reminded him of a mix of burning paper and kerosene came from a small bowl, lit with a floating wick in it. The bowl was placed on a red wide altar, in front of numerous, crudely-carved wooden figurines. Some mysteriously resembled animals; teeth-baring snakes, bulls, monkeys snarling at you, while other looked uncannily like humans, looking ferociously and staring wide-eyed. The main larger figurine in the center eeriely depicted a person balancing on a leg with 8 hands on either side, each holding a sword and in the process of putting through himself form different angles and directions. On it were dried red wax drips which had been dropped from the head and crawled down. He shuddered. It looked so much like the figurine was sprouting blood from the head.
Wait. Suddenly his mind struck back in fear. What the hell am I doing here? He panicked, taking more air in. How come he didn't see the idol earlier? he asked, for he had been sitting there for 3 hours now. No, it was there all along, but he just didn't see it there. How??? as the hair on his arms started to rise.
Red candles placed on tables by the side of the room flicked for a second.
Casted shadows danced.
The room was pin drop silent, except for the fidgeting caused by his own nervousness. And the exceptionally loud, to the extent of deafening pounding of his heart, screaming to himself to get the fuck out of that room.
It was fear who told him to leave, yet ironically it was also fear who paralysed his movements. Like he was casted in some kind of mound, tied back and suffocated badly by some external force.
The bowl, he thought. It's gotta be the smoke!!
He fought to stand up, but his legs no longer obeyed him. 3 hours of sitting killed his legs. He pushed himself up with hands, and his numb legs took gradual steps towards the Master and the Bowl. He grunted as millions of nails pricked his feet, but yet everyone continued their trance and gave no attention to the struggling, desperate, and scared man.
From the corner of his ear, he started to hear noises now. Loud chatter, random and disorganised fading thro and forth like many ghosts were talking exactly next to him. He paused, ignoring the numb legs, pulled back and concentrated. Weirdly, it was silence once more. Goodness, it's getting to me! I'm starting to hallucinate! he thought instinctly.
Every step he made seem to be dragging, heavily, like the sins commited in his entire life were chained to his ankles and wrists. Every inch he closed in, the distance didn't seem to reduce. Every breath he took, seemed to smother him by the nose and strangle him by the heart.
Just as he was about to reach for the bowl, the Master stirred to life.
It could bring you salvation from the sins you've made throughout your life, my follower. Do you agree to commit yourself to Lord? Master asked head bent and pupils peering out from the corner of his small, slanted eyes.
What? No, no! Please let me leave! Please! I'm sorry! His mind was screamed in his brain but his mouth shivered uncontrollably but uttered nothing.
It could bring you utter glory in your sacrifice to Lord; He, will be grateful to you, my follower. DO YOU AGREE TO GIVE YOURSELF!!? bellowed the Master.
The room sprang to life, all of a sudden, all of the 20 followers started murmering their chants loudly at their individual pace, which was really all nothing but inaudible buzz. Uncontrolly, he was now lying lifelessly in front of the alter in a forward deep bowing position, rear in the air and his forehead touching the groud. He was losing his consciousness telling him to give up and all with be easier.
It will bring you eternal life in the your name, my follower. You will be immortailised forever as the person who GAVE HIS LIFE FOR THE LORD!!! And with that, the Master, with unknown strength pulled his head up by the hair, produced a butcher's knife from the altar and sliced it across his neck.
- The cina cult version of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, the scene when Lord Voldemort was revived in the Graveyard. Well, after that Harry just uses some magic to heal the wound on his neck isn't it? Then you get an immortal hero. HAHA.
