‘Veni, omnipotens aeterne diabolus! Agios O Gaubni…’

The incantation became louder until Algar was shouting the name. ‘Gaubni! Gaubni!’

Then a silence that startled Vitek. He could not see Algar’s face as he stopped and turned in the clearing but he heard the hissing and saw the hands raised like claws. The long, bony fingers grasped Vitek’s neck and the strength of the arms pushed Vitek to the ground. Algar sat on Vitek’s chest, slobbering and laughing while his nails tore the flesh on Vitek’s face.

The spam of struggle did not last long as the fingers snapped the neck. Possessed, Algar loped awkwardly out of the wood. Thurstan sat hunched in the back of the van and Algar stared at him, dribbling like an idiot while in the distance a dog howled.

Algar was struggling to control the chaos which had possessed him and direct it to bring another death when he heard the voice behind him. ‘Come to me, come to me!’ the melodious voice said. Algar turned to see the leering face of a multitude of witches. Then they vanished. But another voice ame from the trees behind him.

‘You are my gift!’

He did not look, but the power of the demon he had invoked was sucked from within him to form a hideous face whose rows of teeth gnashed before the mouth opened to spray Algar with fetid breath. Then it was gone, sucked into the trees and down into Earth bythe power o the long-dead leering witches.

‘You are my gift!’ the voice repeated.

SOURCE: Narrative excerpted from Temple of Satan. Graphic from a recent mid-December self-criticism session, courtesy of clandestine organizational personnel and photographed at an undisclosed location in the United States of America.