All I can remember was the last few moments of the night. Detective Parker and myself had arrived at the house we had been investigating, even though, we had ended our shift, not more than hour prior to receiving the call that there was some activity in the house. We arrived on the scene with normal clothing and in my own vehicle, left the car and went up to the front door. As if they knew we were coming, someone opened the door, as we walked up, and welcomed us in. I, honestly, didn’t know how to approach the situation…I didn’t know if this was a trick or that they thought that we were part of their group, but I had to think quickly. So, I decided to play it as the latter. We walked through the doorway, myself followed by Detective Parker and the person who greeted us. We made our way to the gathering, at the center of the house, to what looked like, an exotically decorated, dining room, where dozens of people stood, gathered in a circle. I realized, at this point, there were too many to take down, between my partner and I, and I had neglected to call for backup. I had to keep my cover as long as I could, until I could phone it in. When I made my way through the crowd, to the front, is when I knew I was too late. I gazed upon what lay on the table, the sacrificial element of their ritual, adorned with candles in some satanic organization. As they began to chant, I began to sweat…I wasn’t prepared for that. Towards the end of the chanting, the leader (as far as I could tell, was the leader) picked up a large knife and readied herself for the act. The chanting stopped and she plunged the knife into the victim…and she did it with a smile. In fact, everyone was smiling, except for me, as I looked on in sheer horror, using every ounce of composure I had to not break my cover…until, what happened next! As if the sacrifice wasn’t enough, they proceeded with an even more sadistic event…The leader began cutting small pieces from the body of the victim, placed them onto plates and passed them around to the participants. It was once everyone started to eat the remains, is when I lost it! I pulled my weapon and went first for the leader. I struck her down in one shot and when I went to take aim for another, everyone had begun to disperse, dropping everything and not putting up the fight that I had expected. Everyone cleared the room in a rush of panic and screams, and my partner, whom I guess had been in the back and not witnessing the complete horror, had come up behind me and startled me. Out of pure fright and defense, I turned and fired. The impact of the .45 was phenomenal! The bullet punched through his head and flung his body into a somersault, but his forward momentum continued and brought his feet into my chest, pushing me backward and onto the table. I landed on the remains of the victim…it was slick and pasty…which made it difficult to get up. My hands slid through the mess like warm butter and I could smell it! That was the moment I realized the true horror of the event that had taken place. I struggled to turn myself over and that’s when I saw it. Chocolate? Frosting? My vision faded into the same creamy color that I saw in the cake.
I had written this back in high school. I found it, recently, nestled amongst some old photos. So, I decided to correct some grammar and post it here, for all the world to see.