We all want to belong. We strive to gain acceptance from our parents. We also try to look for a set of friends to click with. We even go through the proverbial hell just to be accepted. However, is it really worth it? Sometimes, this wish can come true — with deadly consequences.
One night, a group of teens who are obsessed with the occult gathered at a local Starbucks. They ordered their favorite ice blended drinks and finally settled for a table outside of the shop; some of them smoked, so they needed to cater to their vices — specifically, CJ, who was a chain smoker.
Everyone in the group, which I’ll fondly call the Midnight Society, were considerably gifted with sixth sense except for CJ. Marah is a learned wiccan who specializes in defensive spells and purification of negative energies. Richard was an empath — a person who can sense the emotions of others. Airah, on the other hand, is a native healer, specializing in massage therapy, often with miraculous effects. Basically, all the people there were gifted with something supernatural, which oftentimes leave CJ out of place.
He had tried a lot of things to open up his spiritual energies. He tried going to psychics to see if they can open up his third eye, but his trips didn’t yield results. He also went to a holy mountain, Mt. Banahaw, and talked to local shamans, witches, and healers if they can see any potential in him, but they said that he was just not for that sort of thing.
While Marah was telling her story about how she cleansed her house when her boyfriend brought home a malicious spirit, CJ exasperatedly said to himself, “Hell! I wish I can see ghosts or something.” Taking in a full drag of cigarette smoke, he exhaled in front of him.
Instead of billowing and forming random whirls, whorls, and spirals, it revealed a terrifying image. The smoke formed into what looked like a goat’s head. Instead of squarish teeth for chewing, this goat’s head had fangs and it was gaping as if it was about to bite off CJ’s head. He was also able to make out seven horns sprouting from its head, three behind each ear and one jutting right out of its forehead. Instead of goat hair, the image was smooth, almost like pig’s hide but gray and showed dark veins.
The image of the goat-demon looked around the group, and seeing that all the rest had the ability to resist his psychic attack, he looked straight at CJ, sitting still, unable to make a sound because of his fear. Then, it raised its head up, arched its neck up and back, ready to strike like a cobra. After rearing upwards, it dove straight into CJ’s nostrils, mimicking how a smoker would bridge smoke from mouth to nose.
With a loud clunk on the round, metal coffee table, CJ fell dead.
It seems that at that very instant, Hell heard CJ’s wish and granted it for him. For an instant, he belonged with his occultic friends, but just barely. It seems that much like tricky wishes made to jinns, we need to be careful with our wishes because they might just come true, granted by forces that would benefit from one of man’s greatest folly, the need to be accepted.