The Cult

Right in front of their eyes, vision fades to static.
Frightened and confused, we, the masses, heed the call.
Stripping off our clothes, we gather in the woods, swaying in the summer heat, naked… writhing.
One beast, many mouths… many fingers… many hearts beating.
The flesh circle opens briefly, and our leader mounts a tree stump, the cow skull over his head glowing in the moonlight.
We have no choice. We are compelled to listen.
He raises his staff and tells the tales of our childhood, like many generations before.
This is what happens when the neighborhood cable goes out.