SACRIFICE - A Halloween Treat

 

Photo by Brandon Griggs on Unsplash

SACRIFICE

“There it is.” Jimmy pointed toward the stone building—a massive, weathered mausoleum with barred windows and a heavy wooden door crowned by a cross. Angels crouched at the steps, but it was the gargoyles glaring down from the roof that made me shiver.

We stopped several yards away.

“Let’s set up here.” Jimmy adjusted his tripod and camera. He took the wand from me and handed me a humming device, its lights blinking like a pulse.

“Turn in a slow circle,” he said. “Stop when you’re facing the mausoleum. This will pick up any activity.”

“This is ghost hunting?” I tried to laugh, but the sound caught in my throat.

“Nothing scary. Almost boring.” He flashed me his killer smile.

I obeyed. The device thrummed louder, and the vibration climbed up my arm. Then I saw them—shapes—dozens of them. Pale faces emerged from the dark, circling, watching us, laughing until they realized I could see them.

“Jimmy,” I whispered, “they’re coming toward us.”

“Who?”

“Them.” My finger trembled as I pointed. He followed my gaze but saw nothing.

“You can see ghosts?” he asked, snapping photos frantically, his light flashing across empty air.

“They’re closing in—except the mausoleum. It’s clear.”

Jimmy grabbed his equipment and bolted for the crypt. “Come on!”

He shoved the door open easily—too easily. It swung wide without a groan, as though it had been used recently. We stumbled inside. I was crying and terrified, but he wrapped me in his arms, kissed me, and calmed me.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured.

The room smelled faintly of roses, wax, and dust overlaying something older—death. Yet it was spotless, gleaming marble, polished floors, fresh roses in vases. An angel statue loomed, and in the center, a stone sarcophagus with a robed effigy carved atop it. I saw no ghosts and felt a fleeting relief.

Until a voice came from the shadows.

“I wouldn’t recommend leaving.”

I nearly screamed. Jimmy spun, putting himself between me and the sound.

A man stepped into view. Red eyes, crooked grin, his face twisted into something that reminded me of a jack-o’-lantern. “I’m the caretaker. Dug three graves today. I spend Halloween nights here, keeping pranksters away. But you? You saw them.”

I nodded.

“They don’t like being seen,” he said, lighting a cigarette. Smoke curled around his grin. “The last ones who did? Missing.”

Jimmy drew me deeper into the room. The caretaker handed us a blanket. “Stay till daylight. They won’t enter here. This is holy ground.”

I wanted to run, but Jimmy pressed close, soothing me, offering wine. I pretended to sip, dumping mine in a vase when he wasn’t looking. Soon, exhaustion dragged me under.

When I woke, hushed voices drifted through the dark: Jimmy and the caretaker.

“She’s out,” Jimmy said. “Should be till midnight.”

“You’re sure she’s a virgin?” the caretaker asked.

“Positive. It was hard to keep my distance. She’s special.”

Ice filled my veins.

“Good,” the caretaker said. “We’ll prepare the room. Then we’ll dress her for the sacrifice.”

Sacrifice.

I didn’t wait. I forced the heavy door—lighter than air this time—and ran.

© Yolanda Renée 2025

586 Words

Initially published on October 8, 2012, as Graveyards and Mausoleums, rewritten for this year’s Halloween Celebration.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Photo by Allison Saeng on Unsplash