Madison flicked on the light switch and the pristine bedroom came into harsh fluorescent focus. Her movements were electric with teenage rage as she ripped the bed linens from the mattress and hurled them to the floor. When she threw herself onto the bare mattress, her gaze locked onto the bedroom door like a predator noting the location of its prey.
A shadow moved beneath the door—Faith's unnatural silhouette blocking the hall light that otherwise leaked through the gap. Madison's face contorted into a scowl that remained fixed until the shadow mercifully moved on, Faith's footsteps receding down the hallway like a retreating nightmare.
Only then did Madison reach for her cell phone, the blue light from the screen casting an otherworldly glow on her face as she opened the LIVE FEED app. The homepage loaded with her profile picture: an upside-down cross that seemed more like a challenge than a symbol. "VIDEOS OF A 'MAD' LIFESTYLE," the feed's title proclaimed. Thirty thousand followers. Thirty thousand witnesses to whatever came next.
Madison switched to the reverse camera, her face appearing on screen as a red "LIVE" indicator pulsed in the corner, a digital heartbeat.
"It's Mad'ness here," she said with practiced casualness, as if addressing old friends. "You know to keep checking my feed for insane videos. This next one is going viral! Be the first to witness what crazy looks like." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "What you see tonight is gonna leave you shook! I'll keep you posted."
She flashed a peace sign—a gesture so incongruous with what was to come that it would later seem like a perverse joke—and the image froze. The "LIVE" icon disappeared, replaced by a play button hovering over her face like a target.
The feed scrolled until it landed on a thumbnail that showed Madison's face twisted in terror, partially obscured by a translucent play button. Below it, text read "MY HOLY CRAP LIFE - 2.7K VIEWS."
When the play button vanished and a timeline began counting down at the bottom of the screen, Madison's terrified expression animated into life.
"No shadows, we're safe," her voice said from behind the camera. "Alright, let's do this!"
She reversed the camera view again and approached the bedroom door, which stood slightly ajar. Through the crack came a sound that didn't belong in any normal household: a muffled, rhythmic melody carried by tambourine, guitar, and accordion. The music sounded ancient, like something excavated rather than composed.
"Coast clear-ish," Madison whispered, her breath fogging the lens momentarily. "Low key, you know you watch to see the extra things she does. But deep down, you're more afraid of what might happen to me if I get caught, considering what you've seen in my videos."
And with that ominous warning, she slipped through the doorway into the hall.
The corridor stretched before her like a tunnel, its far end barely visible, illuminated only by the dim, flickering glow that spilled from the living room. Madison held her phone before her like a shield as she advanced. With each step, the melody grew more distinct, weaving together with what sounded like a chant. Words became almost distinguishable, like a language heard underwater.
By the time she entered the living room, the sounds had crystallized into something undeniable. "Glory to Thee, our King," voices chanted in unison, the words muffled but unmistakable.
The living room had been transformed. Scattered candles cast long, restless shadows across familiar furniture made strange by the ritual light. Through a side window, firelight flickered, suggesting something even more primitive occurring outside. Madison crept toward the window, her free hand trembling slightly.
"Here we go!" she whispered, positioning her cell phone on the windowsill to capture whatever lay beyond the glass.
Madison looked up at her phone’s screen as the scene outside unfolded.
Outside, a bonfire raged against the night, tall flames licking upward as if trying to taste the stars. The musicians stood in a loose formation: Johnson with his tambourine, Mary strumming a guitar, and Carlial drawing eerie notes from an accordion. Around them, a small crowd had formed a circle, their faces transformed by firelight into ancient masks.
"Glory to Thee, our King," they chanted in unison.
In the center of this human ring, Faith danced with her hands raised skyward, her movements suggesting either ecstasy or possession—perhaps both. The distinction seemed unimportant in the moment.
"Hope you're all seeing this," Madison's voice whispered from behind the camera.
A diamond-patterned snake—its scales reflecting the firelight in hypnotic patterns—hung from Grace's neck. With deliberate ceremony, Grace pulled Hope into the center of the circle. Hope's reluctance was visible even from Madison's vantage point, her body leaning away from what was to come.
"Glory to Thee, our King," the crowd intoned again, the words now seeming less like praise and more like incantation.
Grace passed the snake to Faith with the care one might show when handling something sacred or deadly. The snake hissed as it transferred from one woman to the other, its body undulating in sinuous curves. Grace positioned herself a step behind Hope, effectively cutting off any retreat.
"I don't think this is—" Hope began, her voice carrying the tremor of justified fear.
Faith cut her off. "Don't doubt. God protects those who have unwavering faith."
Faith swayed as she held the snake before Hope like an offering—or a test.
"Glory to Thee, our King."
"These people are crazy," Madison whispered, her disbelief palpable even in those few words.
Hope stepped back, instinctively trying to escape, but collided with Grace, who stood firm as a wall. With inexorable pressure, Grace urged Hope forward, placing her directly in front of Faith and the waiting snake.
"Glory to Thee, our King."
Hope stood frozen, paralyzed by a fear so profound it seemed to radiate from her in waves. Grace clasped Hope's hand firmly in her own and extended it toward Faith. Hope trembled visibly, her eyes squeezed shut as if she could will away reality through sheer denial. Then, with what appeared to be monumental effort, she took a deep breath and allowed her arm to relax slightly.
"Keep your faith in God," Faith said, the words both command and promise.
Hope's arm quivered as the snake began to slither up it, scales rasping against her skin in a dry whisper.
"Glory to Thee, our King."
The music and chants blended into something hypnotic and indistinct, a sound that bypassed conscious thought and spoke directly to more primitive parts of the brain.
Hope's face was a portrait of terror. Faith's eyes widened in anticipation. Grace smiled with the serene certainty of the true believer.
The snake moved with deliberate slowness until it stopped, its head level with Hope's face. For an eternal moment, it seemed to stare directly into her eyes, cold reptilian intelligence assessing warm mammalian fear. Then, with shocking suddenness, it whipped its head back and plunged its fangs into Hope's arm. Its eyes bulged, unblinking, as blood welled from the puncture wounds and began to stream down Hope's skin.
Madison's involuntary gasp seemed to hang in the air like a physical thing.
Faith moved quickly, prizing the snake's teeth from Hope's flesh and pulling the creature away. Too late. Hope clutched at her wounded arm, her legs buckling as she collapsed to the ground. The scream that tore from her throat was primal, unbidden—the sound of a human being confronted with their own mortality.
Grace's hand clamped over Hope's mouth with practiced efficiency, stifling the cry. "Shhh," she soothed, as if comforting a child.
"Those who do not have faith will be cast down!" Faith proclaimed, her voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction.
Madison snatched up her phone and fled back toward her room, her whispered litany of "Oh my God! Oh my God!" following her like a shadow. The words weren't prayer—not in this house, not tonight. They were recognition of a truth too terrible to fully comprehend: that sometimes the most dangerous faith isn't in supernatural evil, but in the absolute certainty of human righteousness.
Chapter 12