A short response I did to a writing prompt. I could expand it and may one day but for now I am happy with it the way it is.
She approached the unfamiliar door and nervously took the key from her pocket. She took a deep breath, unlocked the door, paused, then opened it. To her horror she saw...
she was too late to stop the ritual. Around a blood red pentagram engraved into the stone floor of the chamber, five men and women stood. All held their hands towards the sky, palms facing outward and towards each others. The man at the head of the pentagram wore a blood red hooded cloak, and those at the other four points wore cloaks of mingled red and black. The chanting grew louder and louder, in the center of the pentagram the black coins piled there began to melt into a black sludge. The woman who had opened the door let out a gasp, but the cultists did not look up from their terrible deed.
