Site icon Alexander Hammil

A Story about South

with apologies to Brendan

They teach him the secret handshake and the high signs first, as an offering. “Welcome to the twenty-second order,” grins Erica. “Now things start to get interesting.”

“I won’t have to kiss a goat for Baphomet, will I?” South laughs. Underneath the robe he is wearing shorts and a t-shirt with the name of the show on it.

The three glower at him. “We don’t,” they hiss, “make jokes about Baphomet. Acolyte.”

South is suddenly sober, and this seems less like a game. Down the hallway someone begins reading from Leviticus. He is too aware of his bare legs.

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