The Bradbury Chronicles

The Offerings

         Someone coughed, and promptly flushed in embarrassment as four other pair of eyes met her sheepish ones in silent accusation.

         This was supposed to be a sombre occasion; one of intense concentration and gravity at what they were about to do.

         “Sisters? Do you all have your items of offering?” came the solemn request from their leader – Abigail Shore – who, on any other day, might have been leading the cheer squad with her bleach blonde hair and megawatt smile.

         However, in the gloom of the darkened AV club room, she looked mysterious wrapped in a velvet hood (a prop from the Drama Club); her blue eyes more prominent beneath the glow of the lone flashlight propped in their midst like a beacon.

         Slow nods accompanied her query, as the other four girls – also clad like her – reached into their bags to whip out their sacrifices.

         Brenda McClintock, considered the second best in the cheer squad, was the first.

         “I present the Sacred Salmon of Renewal,” she declared as she opened the wrapped piece of juicy, albeit smelly, fish. Someone might have gagged at the stench, but they dared not be too obvious. Gosh! How long had she kept that stuff in her bag?

         “I present the Holy Mango of Devotion,” Madeline Parker stated as she placed the yellow and red-streaked fruit next to the salmon. At least it wasn’t rotten, thank goodness.

         Angelica Crowe was next. “I present the Blessed Cucumber of Vitality,” she stated and promptly backed away as the stench, from the salmon, made her want to gag.

         If she noticed Claire Ranger glaring at her reaction, she ignored it.

         “You have all done well,” Abigail declared as she held out her hands over the items. “Please present The Book of Ancient Spells, Sister Claire.”

         It was a rather hefty and ugly-looking thing; its, probably, once pristine tan leather cover now puckered and wrinkled with Time. There were ugly gashes upon it, as if someone had once made an attempt to destroy the book with a really sharp knife. An inexplicable dark stain – some swear its ink while others fear it might be blood – streamed from the centre to trickle into the pages so stiff with age, there was the fear it could rip if not handled with care. The text within was a mixture of Latin and Olde English, but Abigail had no problem reading them. She had discovered the book; thanks to a visit to her grandma’s home and a lazy Saturday morning digging through her old stash in the attic.

         Abigail, who was a nut for anything occult, had taken to the book immediately. Unfortunately, grandma was no longer around to give more insight into its use, though she had left behind a very detailed diary of how some of the spells had been used. Sadly, the most ‘damage’ Grandma had ever done was to wish away pesky snakes from killing her chickens.

         She had definitely underutilized it! There was simply so much the book had to offer, and Abigail was determined to make the most of it. She just had to convince her good friends to come along for the ride, which turned out to be a less than tedious affair. They were eager to be a part of ‘The Coven’, and whatever they could do to make their dreams come true – even if it meant using Dark Magic – so be it.

         Angelica, who had coughed earlier and was still doing her best not to gag at the smell of decaying salmon, shivered as she watched Abigail begin chanting the strange words from the book. Though this was their third meeting as a coven, she was still in denial about the whole affair. For starters, why would a magic book want them to bring in food instead of the usual locks of hair, blood, teeth or whatever other creepy thing they usually requested?

         Last time, they were made to bring in lettuce, an orange, and a slice of beef jerky (dried meat actually), and all because they had wanted to place a curse on Mr. Bailey – their English teacher – for giving them unjustified low grades. None was sure if it really worked, though hearing he had to call in sick a few days later had been a small win for them.

         This time around –

         “We cast a spell on the men who love us,” Abigail declared in modern English. “May their devotion never waiver for eternity! Now, we will partake of the offerings and wash it down with the Wine of Truth. Sister Claire, please share the offerings.”

         The salmon, mango, and cucumber were carefully sliced and then given to each girl. Angelica stared at the odd combo in her palm; wincing as she watched the others swallow theirs quickly. She could feel her gag reflex working overtime as the stench of the fish permeated into her very soul.

         “Is there a problem, Sister Angelica?” Abigail asked sharply.

         All eyes were now trained on her; waiting, judging, eager to pounce should she dare to break the circle of trust.

         There was no other choice. She had to do it, and as she squeezed her eyes shut and felt the slimy textures settle on her tongue, she prayed feverishly for this nightmare to end.

         A week later, the coven gathered sans Angelica Crowe, who had unfortunately sustained an injury during cheerleading practice. Doctors doubted she would ever cheer again.

         A shame really, Abigail thought as she carefully drew the Circle of Sanctity on the floor, if only you hadn’t wished for my demise, we wouldn’t be here today, Angie.

         Good thing she had managed to get some loose strands of Angelica’s hair almost a month ago. One never knew when such items would come in handy, and besides, she doubted her coven would ever truly understand the complexities of the darker spells.

         And with a deep breath, she held out her hands to address her rapturous audience,

         “Dear Sisters, do you have today’s offerings?”







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Word Count: 999
Prompt: Include these words in your entry: SALMON - MANGO - CUCUMBER - DENIAL (One of your genres must be DRAMA)
Written For: "The Writer's Cramp"