Old Yeller
23 Jul 2019Today’s prompt: “Write down three pieces of dialogue that you hear from three different conversations. Put those bits into the same conversation. Take it from there.”
Animals aren’t supposed to die in movies.1 They’re not supposed to die in stories. That’s how you know you’re in the darkest timeline.
A gregarious cultist in a hooded black robe rubs his hands together gleefully as two women in robes finish lighting candles around the circle. “I can see all the mice are here. Where’s the big cheese?”2
Sure, Old Yeller, or Where the Red Fern Grows. But other than that, they’re supposed to live.
One of the women lighting the candles rolls her eyes. “His holiness should be here any minute, Greg.”
You clack your hooves on the floor nervously.
“Cool, cool. Nice work on those candles, Bethany. So where’re we going after? Applebees? Everybody good with Applebees?”
You take in the whole scene. It’s a basement. Concrete floor. Fading light coming in from the ground-level windows, but there’s no reaching those, and the doors are all fast shut. Five cultists in robes, including the one holding the leash around your neck. A circle of candles around a symbol painted with yellow curlicues. Lots of sharp knives. Things look bad.
A few people mumble that sure, Applebees sounds all right. But one man speaks up. “How late are they open? Aren’t we going to have to deal with cleanup first?”
“Yeah, you’d be surprised how much blood there is in a goat,” Bethany says.
“Maaa-aaa-aa-aaa,” you say.
“I think they’re open pretty late. Besides, if the summoning succeeds, Cthulhu’s coming and the world’s gonna end. So why bother with cleanup?” Greg says.
“If the summoning succeeds and Cthulhu comes, are we even going to have time to go to Applebees?” the other man says.
You stamp the floor with your hooves.
Greg shrugs. “Who knows, Rick? The Old Ones are mysterio–”
The door opens and a sixth robed figure appears silhouetted in the door frame, holding a massive book. He strides into the room and the metal door swings shut with a clang. You back up, your hooves clattering on the floor.
The tall, stoutly built woman holding your leash pulls you into the center of the circle. She’s far too strong for you to resist. You dodge to the left and nearly knock over a candle as you pass the edge of the circle, but Bethany quickly catches it.
The other four take their places around the circle. With no idle chitchat, the big cheese opens his book and starts speaking.
“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn,” he says.
“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn,” the others repeat.
“We summon you, great Cthulhu,” the big cheese says.
“We summon you, great Cthulhu,” the others reply.
The call and responds ends abruptly, and the big cheese starts reading aloud from his tome in a language that doesn’t sound anything like English. Eventually, he ceases reading and stretches out his hand to Bethany, who hands him one of the knives. He gestures to the woman holding your leash, and she pulls you closer to him.
There’s an almost electric hum in the air as the big cheese holds the knife up to your throat. And then he slides the blade across it. Blood pools below the cut. This is it. They’re killing you, an animal. Sacrificing you. To summon an Old One to destroy the earth. It’s the darkest timeline.
The big cheese thrusts his hand out toward Greg. Greg sticks his hands in his pockets. A panicked expression spreads across his face.
The big cheese stares at Greg. “The rings?” he says. “It’s that part of the ritual. The timing is crucial.”
“I realized I left the rings at home,”3 Greg says.
A look of disappointment clouds the big cheese’s face. All the cultists stare at Greg, before turning their gazes to you to watch your blood pool on the floor. There’s a lot of it.
“Shit,” Bethany says. “We’re gonna have to get another goat.”
“We’re never gonna get to go to Applebees,” Rick says plaintively.