“This is it?” he asked the solemn-looking kid with a bowl cut who manned the heavy double doors of the church. “The secret screening of the scariest film ever made?”
“It will change your life,” the kid replied without changing his expression.
“I’m not allowed to watch it.”
“Really? Then you’ll have to read my review tomorrow morning.”
The kid smirked.
“Are my media credentials enough to get me in?”
“Credentials don’t mean anything here.”
“Okay,” Malcolm replied. “How much?”
“You have an invitation?”
“Invitation? Oh, the … this?” He handed the kid the flyer. Bowl Cut stepped aside.
“Open the doors and enter on your own,” he said.
“Thanks, buddy.”
The tall, pale Announcer welcomed the small audience.
Bloody sludge backed up in Malcolm’s intestines would have to wait. Firewater would have to wait. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to lament a career on the downslope. He checked for Clarke, whom he hoped had received his text about the location of the screening. If Clarke was here, she was hidden in the dank and long shadows of the church-theater.
Finally, the Announcer stepped away and the projector fired up. A title card reading Remnants dissolved to a static shot of a wooden door framed in darkness. In his seat, Malcolm’s hands felt greasy. The camera slowly pushed in until the door filled the screen. There were markings he didn’t understand scratched into the wood. As the shot held the close-up on the door, the soundtrack emitted a steady sound like paper crumbling, or the sound of a needle sliding to the end of vinyl album and bumping the label. After a few seconds, Malcolm was jarred by the noise of a locking mechanism in use. He felt greasy all over, as if sludge leaked from his pores. On screen, the door suddenly swung open on squealing hinges. Malcolm felt himself slipping off the pew and submitting to the darkness.
“Remnants of Worship” appears in the anthology Bloody Good Horror, edited by Theresa Scott-Matthews and soon available from HellBound Books Publishing. Click here to order.