Bad Luck.

Chapter 1.

A long time ago, in a less known inhabited area of the dense forest where the patch of earth remained in shadows. Dark and had an extraordinary gloominess attach to it due to the thick trees surrounding, making it hard for light to penetrate and create creepy silhouettes of branches all over the grey environment.

Locals were too afraid to enter that part of the forest's area. Even animals seemed to be nervous about it and actively ignore to enter there.

But, unlike other times of the year, one particular day had become the center of the weird liveliness.

Whispers, hushed voices, the noises of the incoming soft footsteps from all directions were disturbing its original monotonous ambiances.

Hooded figures were lurking and were coming out from all directions.

Darkness. Surroundings, engulfed in darkness.

It was late, the twilight.

The source of light in the dark pitched black forest was the filtered moonlight.

That rays could pass through the haphazard branching of the nearby trees, and the other source was the dim yellowish glow coming from the candles, held in hands by the group of people in black, long flowy type hoods over their heads.

Among the crowd of black fabric, one was wearing a maroon overflowing gown that had an intricate design over the border was the head of the small group.

To be more specific, a satanic cult.

THE ORDER OF DOOMSDAY.

An occult religion formed on altered spiritualism and became more focused on doomsday and paranoia.

For those people standing there with the robes, it was not just any place but holds importance. It was a religious place for them to worship.

Worship their DARK LORD.

And I was part of it.

Heavily influenced by the drugs, half of the people gathered were all brainwashed. Influenced by the drug dose were witnessing the whole ordeal happening in front of them,

anticipating the initiation of the ceremony.

Amongst the crowd, I was also there quietly observing and trying to capture and memorize all that was happening.

Satanism.

The complex belief systems refuse the western moral laws and replace them with a combination of a positive self-image and a decided lack of conformity. Interest in magic performed out as mystical events were the philosophy that grows on non-conformity.

Before the 20th Century, Satanism was commonly declared real by the Christian churches.

They believed in the seven 'deadly sins.'

They considered the 'deadly sins' to be actions that lead to physical, mental, or emotional gratification.

The headmaster, in his intricate maroon robe, was standing silently in the middle of the ground.

The headmaster was holding an object in his right hand.

The object was the long-chained antique pocket watch.

He raised his hands towards the mass of people, calmly signaling them to follow him.

Without uttering any verbal instructions, everyone gathered around him in an equally distanced but compact circle formation.

Surrounded by a group of hooded figures, the headmaster, with his closed eyes, rose his hands above, towards the dark sky. Chanting lowly, as if communicating with the forest spirit itself.

His body swayed left to right into a trance.

Fall on the ground on his knees softly and started scribbling on the dark brown damp soil of the forest.

A satanic pentagon.

If everything goes how he had planned, then that small device, that pocket watch, will become the host for their work and will lead to so many victims without getting personally involved.

A cursed object has curses bound to its form.

The purpose of all of them meeting is to produce cursed.

With the help of the energy surging from the humans surrounding him and energy coming from the ritual itself will help to bind the spell and dark magic inside the very molecules of the antic pocket watch.

Modify it into a cursed object.

A dark, gloomy nature surrounding them was very suiting with the purpose they met there.

Pentagon was drawn with fingers, dug in the mud of the forest, and was glowing with the lit candles surrounding it. Headmaster had put the antic watch in the middle of it.

The pocket watch looked weathered, looked like it had been worn regularly as the way it was still shining told that the owner of it had taken very great care of it.

Watch had a golden rim with two golden chains attached to the top part.

The top part, the knob, with the help of which setting was adjusted was having an intricate black swirly design all over the top of it.

The golden rim, the overall theme, also continued on the knob. The blacktop combined gave it a very classy and eye-catching look. Headmaster put it on the ground gently.

And the chanting started.

The headmaster chanted the spells. And others, the crowd surrounding him, were repeating one chant. Over and over again.

They sounded very complicated and unique, said in an odd kind of language.

A dead language.

For people a few centuries back, that language was very common to them and was used to speak them.

I don't exactly know the origin of them.

They sound very ancient and powerful.

Almost alienated.

The 'medicine' that was given to all people at the beginning of the ritual was given to me too, but I didn't consume it.

I refused to be influenced and took it my hand to expose these manipulators. But it was not easy.

Privacy.

Maintaining privacy of identity and names were the main rule of entering the cult.

Especially the headmaster. He rarely came out and didn't talk to anybody.

He had a creepy aura around him. Made him untouchable for some reason.

Sometimes I taught that he was not even human.

The way he disappeared every time I tried to look for him from the corners, and he would suddenly would nowhere to be seen.

I often thought of how he knows so much about spells and dark magic.

Headmaster had a look of old age filled with wisdom and yet had no telltale signs of old age on his face.

I have never seen him wearing anything else than the robes.

Robes have their own story.

I have never seen such intricate designs and designs anywhere else. They looked like symbols all over the robes but in a more fashionable way.

I have no idea how build he is.

It sometimes had occurred to me that he might be hiding secrets behind that long, dark, and rich robes.

He was full of mystery and so out of bounds.

To know about him, he had to become part of the cult.

But one thing I knew for sure, the headmaster was not a good person.

Whatever he was, he was evil.