Mi Tortura (HTB)

(Chapel of All Saints, Kutna Hora, Czech Republic)


No one can sacrifice a person on the altar (or elsewhere for that matter) better than I.
By trusting my inner wisdom in the art, I know how to give a clear and easy death to my offerings without looking twice at the material at hand.
Thin, fat, muscular, bony, woman, man, they all die gracefully in my hands. 
I cut, slice, poke, carve, cleave, dissect, hack, sever, flay..all according to the cult I work for at the time. I am the one who does it all and does it well!

I don't need any bloody book to remind me of my lines. I know all the books by heart. Their grammar and intonation, punctuation and articulation, I know it all!
 For the past 14 years I have sacrificed hundreds of people gracefully, respectively and sometimes spectacularly.
Yes, I have made mistakes but mistakes are a vital part of the learning process. Having made mistakes does not mean that I deserved the job at the High Temple of Blood (HTB) less than anyone else.

Despite what happened, I still feel I was most suitable for the job.

When I sharpen my knives I do not like to be disturbed. 
This is because I want to be fully concentrated on the crucial task. I see my equipment as an extension of myself and I respect myself as I respect the people I am going to sacrifice tonight, therefore I am careful and thorough.When sharpening a cleaver the movement should be even slower, more deliberate and upwards, never lose eye contact with the blade.
 You can imagine my vexation when the phone rang.
When I picked up the phone and heard the lady identifying herself I dropped the damned thing.
It is not everyday that I receive a call from the HTB.


"I have your CV in my hand."  she said "We are in need of a high priestess immediately especially one with heavy blade experience. How soon can you come over?"
"I can be there in half an hour." I replied leaving the cleaver on the floor.

"We are looking for a person to cover Satan's upcoming offerings, 8 per week in total. As you know HTB is the only temple with Biblical Authorisation, which we are very proud of, and we expect you to meet our standards." the woman behind the heavy bone-made desk said.
I looked around the small room. Everything down to the last detail was made of skulls and bones. Nothing went to waste here.
"I have a small collection of skulls myself." I said. "Some relatives, from my early life and some ex-boyfriends, if you know what I mean..."
"Oh, yes." The woman nodded. "I have some of those myself."
We smiled at each other. It was obvious that we had a mutual understanding. Despite the pompous surroundings the woman's heart was in the right place.
"We are going to call you tonight to let you know, but I am very pleased.." she said and walked out of the room, purple robes ballooning behind her.
I caressed the  small skull on my armrest and gave it a small peck. I was elated.
 The universe was finally returning my calls.

A few hours later the phone rang:
"....you see, what bothers my employer is your lack of BSR (Bachelor in Satan Rituals). All our Priestesses own that degree, but because I liked you so much I would like you to come over tomorrow and perform a ritual in front of my employer, grade C, child offering, dagger." said the woman over the phone.
My heart sank. I hate it when my emotions roller coaster like that. I could feel my stomach seal its doors, Serotonin was leaving the building. I was being rejected.

"In the name of Satan.." my voice bounced on the walls as I extended my dagger to the South,
"...Lord of the Infernal Regions; Lucifer...." I turned to the East,
"Bringer of light and wisdom; Belial.." I turned to the North,
" King of the Earth; Leviathan.." I turned to the West..
"Ruler of the watery Abyss, I command the forces of Darkness to bestow their infernal power over me..." I looked up at the ceiling but it was lost in the shadows and the smoke from the countless bone candle holders spread in the room.
"Open wide the gates of hell..." I yelled confidently to the hooded people below me who bowed their heads even more. The woman from the interview was standing at the very back and was smiling at me.
"...and come forth from the abyss..." I could do this, if their decision was to be based on my work then I had no option but to succeed.
"...in answer to your most unholy names...." the door was slowly pushed open and a beautiful woman in a glittering silver robe entered the room and glided to the skull throne opposite me. I took a deep breath and lifted up the dagger I had brought from home.
. . .
The lady walked out before I finished my last lines which was not a good sign. The vibrations I got from her as she glided out of the hall were as low as the offering's blood pressure. That is why I was not very surprised when a few hours later the woman called and without clarifying the reasons she told me that the HTB had rejected me. 
She was polite though.
Rejection is not something I take lightly especially when I do not know the reasons that caused it. I feel cheated and weak, I feel tortured.
As I'm completing the sharpening of the cleaver I'm thinking of the Cthulhu cult that has booked me for tonight. I love rituals performed by the sea at night; it's the smell of the salty air, the moon shining above me. Being a freelancer is not such a bad thing after all. I get to meet so many different cultures and get to kill so many different people. Some day the HTB will open its doors for me. For that I am sure.
...still these thoughts aren't making me feel any better.
Unfortunately, rejection is not something I take lightly.