Ceremony

All of us were gathered in a classroom. I guessed it was 1986 or thereabouts. The cult leader told us to position our pencils over our hearts, graphite tips pointing inwards. Only the brave and true would return to life. He said thrust, and we all did. Blood flowed over my hand quickly and darkness came. Then I awoke, my head breaking through the surface of a thick delirium. I stared at the bare room.





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(This one was inspired by a (very weird) dream, if you hadn't already guessed.)