Tribal

The flames reflected the war paint smeared across hair and faces which only pronounced the shine in their eyes. The aroma of cooked liver and fried cables mingled with melting plastic that sizzled beneath the flames. The bass bellowed from the stereo to compete with heartbeats as adrenaline spiked to the raw heavy metal pounding their ears.

Ripped from a dream, the lights came on, and the sound stopped mid-metallic-scream.

‘What the hell is going on out here?’ The man’s voice echoed across the courtyard.

The three teens seated in the circle around the burning barbecue blinked at the light.

‘Where are my children?’

‘Here, Dad,’ they called out, waving while tied to the tree.

‘Why are you tied up?’

‘We’re the human sacrifices.’

‘What are you burning? Are you wearing my wife’s dresses, and her makeup? What kind of babysitters are you?’

‘The cheap kind–like your scotch,’ said the babysitter, skulling straight from the bottle.

(150 words)

want to see what else happens in Surburbia…

HSN TW2