Hidden Ritual Episode 2

Episode 2: WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE HOUSE

I did not die that night.

I wished I had.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was cold deep, biting cold that entered my bones. My body was trapped, squeezed tightly, unable to move. The smell hit me next.

Rot.

Damp soil.

Blood.

I realized with horror that I was buried alive.

The earth pressed against my chest, my mouth filled with sand as I struggled. My screams were swallowed by the ground. Just when my lungs were about to burst, hands grabbed me and dragged me upward.

I gasped as I was thrown onto the floor.

I was inside a small room under our house.

Candles lined the walls, burning with green flames. Symbols I had never seen before were painted everywhere with blood. Human blood. In the middle of the room was a shallow pit filled with bones: small bones… children’s bones.

And standing beside it was my wife.

Nneka.

She did not look like the woman I married.

Her hair floated as if underwater. Her shadow moved on the wall even when she stood still. And behind her, crouched in the corner like a starved animal, was Daniel.

My son.

He was chewing on something.

I realized it was a human finger.

I vomited.

“Why?” I cried, my voice cracking. “Why did you do this to our son? Why didn’t you let him rest?”

Nneka sighed, almost tired, as if I was a child asking foolish questions.

“You buried him in the village,” she said calmly. “But you buried him in my mother’s land.”

My blood ran cold.

“My mother,” she continued, “was a priestess. When Daniel died, she came to me in a dream. She said the child was chosen. That death was only the beginning.”

She knelt beside Daniel and wiped his mouth lovingly.

“He must eat,” she said. “Every midnight. If he doesn’t, he returns fully to the grave… and this house collapses with us inside.”

I crawled backward in terror.

“That thing is not my son!” I screamed.

Daniel’s head snapped toward me.

His jaw stretched wider than humanly possible.

“Daddy,” he hissed, “you promised never to leave me alone.”

The candles suddenly went out.

The room became pitch black.

I felt hands many hands grabbing me. Children’s voices filled the air, crying, laughing, screaming all at once. The walls began to bleed.

Then the candles came back on.

Daniel was standing in front of me.

He was taller now.

His bones cracked as they stretched. His eyes glowed red, and his mouth dripped blood.

Nneka placed a knife in my trembling hand.

“A father must provide,” she whispered. “Tonight… you will feed him.”

I shook my head violently.

“No… please… take me instead.”

She smiled.

“That’s exactly what your father said,” she replied.

I froze.

“What father?” I whispered.

She pointed to the pit.

I looked.

Among the bones, I saw a familiar wristwatch.

My father’s wristwatch.

Suddenly, I understood.

Every man in my bloodline had been fed to this thing.

Daniel took a step closer.

The candles flared.

The ground shook.

And as he opened his mouth to consume me, I realized the truth too late

This house was never built for the living.

It was built to feed the dead.