Murder On The Air Chapter Five

Chapter Five: “Smile, My Deer”

(Trigger warning: animal harm, cult violence)

Autumn, nineteen hundred and eight

Only a few people knew exactly how exhausting it was to keep up a grin constantly. Twelve year old Alastor was one of those few. He smiled during joyful times like when he rode his red two-wheeler bike for the first time around the streets. Ignoring the jeers of "mestizo!" and "bastard boy!" from a group of older kids, he just zipped on by, seemingly without a care in the world. Riding felt like flying into freedom.

He smiled during mundane moments, like when he had to study Bible verses in front of his father or when he nearly mastered putting together his first deer head after removing tendons and skin.

He even smiled during less pleasant events like when the older boys in his class shoved him against the wall, punching him in the face and kicking him in the gut.

"Ya like that, lanky lunatic!" asked a blonde bully leader named Billy who proceeded to punch him square in the nose. "You're dirty and dirt poor, ha!" He wore a red and white baseball cap, a blue shirt and fancy pants. His blue eyes were cold like unforgiving ice. Alastor growled as his eye swelled up and his nose bled. Defending himself only resulted in being outnumbered.

"Go roll in feces, jerk!" he spat back.

"Fuck you," Billy replied with another shove.

He yelled in pain and was soon curled into a ball as the boys kicked and spat at him. Finally, after an eternity, the boys laughed and left, leaving Alastor a shaking mess. His clothes were dirty and torn in some places. With shaking legs, he stood up and dusted himself off. His reading glasses had been knocked off his face and now lay in pieces by his feet.

Time for another new pair.

Several hours later, the eighth year bully was pestering a pretty brown-haired girl Alastor had been fond off in the hallway.

"Hey Mary," Billy said, walking over to her side, a little too close. "Wanna spend some quality time with me?"

"No thanks, Billy. I've got work to do."

"Come on, ya know ya want to."

He proceeded to lift up her dress and grab her butt.

"Hey, get off!" she cried as he laughed.

"Hey Billy!"

Billy let go and turned around. "Hey, it's the Ass-lator freak!"

"Leave her alone!"

Billy strut toward Alastor. "What ya gonna do about it? Complain and cry?"

"I'll tell the teacher."

"The teacher doesn't care about you. Nobody does. You're lucky to not be in a colored lowlife classroom. Why don't you go cry to your scum of a momma?"

Alastor fumed, his cheeks and ears turning red. "At least my Mama raised me well. Did she pop you out on accident?"

"Ooooh!" called the other kids as they laughed.

Billy clenched his white fists, "You're dead, goop!"

"Break it up!" called a teacher's voice. She walked over and separated the boys. "Get to class unless you want the paddle and writing lines on the chalkboard."

Billy gave him one last glare before leaving.

"Thank you," said Mary.

"You're welcome," said Alastor. "Don't let that jerk get to you." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before walking on.

Alastor's cheeks were getting sore as he walked back home from school. A wooden pointed white fence stood off to his left. He was roaming the richer part of the neighborhood. A white wooden mansion towered above him flanked by two tall leafy trees: Billy's house.

Alastor hummed a cheery tune as he continued walking along the concrete sidewalk.

The sound of sudden barking made him jump and freeze. The black iron fence shook for several moments. Alastor peered through the wrought iron bars into Billy's backyard. The grass was green, mowed and immaculate. A little black stone water fountain poured clear water softly from the smaller basin to the wider lower one. Tulips, petunias, pansies and daisies formed colorful rows in a nearby planter. The kinds of flowers that would make his mother smile whenever his father gave a bouquet to her for her birthday or for a special occasion.

In the center of the yard stood a white doghouse with a silver water bowl next to it. Attached to a rope was a large yellow Labrador. It was a large friendly dog with fluffy downward ears, a large black nose and big black eyes. The blue color around his neck read Wilfred on the bone-shaped name tag. The dog barked some more before it stopped by the fence and wagged its tail playfully.

Alastor laughed nervously. "Hey there, doggie. You're not scary, right?"

The dog smiled and panted, showing his long pink tongue.

"If only Billy were as nice as you," Alastor sighed.

The dog's fur suddenly stood on end. He let out a deep rumbling growl. Alastor screamed and fumbled backwards as the dog leapt and clawed at the fence. The barking and the wide maw, almost right in his face.

He promptly ran for home and burst through the door. The family room was empty. His father was at work and his mother was humming in the kitchen, unaware that he had just returned.

What had gotten into Billy's beloved dog?

Billy's beloved dog…

With measured steps, Alastor waked over to a long safe in the family room and unlocked it.

His father's rifle lay inside. He snapped his fingers. A little bit of red tinted magic from Alastor's hands made it smaller and lighter. It could now fit in his backpack.

Closing the safe, Alastor went back outside and toward Billy's house. The dog spotted him and barked loudly. Alastor looked around for somewhere he could get a better view. Then he spotted it, a pine tree with a thick branch hovering slightly over the yard.

Taking a deep breath and lengthening his smile, Alastor slowly climbed the branches one step at a time. He was careful not to look down. At last, he carefully tested the long weight of the hanging branch. It was sturdy enough. He bent down on his knees and pulled out the rifle from his backpack. All that barking from the mutt would surely get attention from the neighbors.

He had to hurry.

Alastor checked to make sure the bullet was in place in the slot and looked through the glass scope. The four straight lines roamed around until they were steadied on a spot on the dog's head.

Alastor grinned wider and pulled the trigger.

From inside the mansion, Billy was munching on potato chips and reading a magazine full of pictures of football stars. He was fantasizing running for a touchdown and waving to cute girls at Mardi Gras when he heard a loud gunshot and a high whimper.

Billy rushed outside and found a tan limp form on the ground. He jogged over and skidded to a stop.

"Winfred?" he asked.

He then saw the bleeding hole in his beloved pet's head, the formerly friendly puppy eyes lifeless.

Billy gagged and stumbled back. He cradled the dog's head with his hands. His fear confirmed, the animal remained motionless, dead.

"Winfred!"

He saw a shadow leap from a nearby tree and a figure run off. Billy raced toward the fence and saw the back of a boy with a backpack, short brown hair and light brown skin.

"Alastor!" he bellowed in fury and despair.

Alastor glanced behind him and smirked before vanishing from sight.

Alastor raced back home, grew the gun back to original size and put it back into the safe. He had closed the safe door when his mother stood there behind him tapping her foot, hands on her hips.

"Explain yourself, young man."

"Hell…ooo!" he laughed nervously.

Alastor was heavily spanked by his mother that day and made to clean the house from top to bottom. Louis made him write an apology letter to Billy. Alastor lowered his head, smile still on his face as he handed the apology letter and a handful of money to Billy and his parents at their front door. He was also suspended from school for three days, thus falling behind on schoolwork.

There was one good thing that came out of it. When he went back to school, Billy and his goons never bothered him again. In fact, they wouldn't even look at him when he passed by. The pathetic frowns on their faces…Alastor considered that a victory.

Rumors spread fast, and now Mary and the girls avoided him.

"It wasn't me," Alastor assured, "It was another guy. A misunderstanding."

Mary wasn't buying it. "You killed a poor innocent animal."

Alastor tried again. "Let's hang out and forget about this incident."

Mary glared, "You creep. Stay the fuck away from me!" She hurried off to class, her feet tapping in her black shoes as she left. Mary gave Billy a hateful glare before whispering to her girlfriends.

"Boys are such freaks."

Later on, Alastor was locked inside the junkyard for an hour, the angry Rottweiler chasing after him. He yelped as the dog snapped at his legs and trousers. He tried shaking off the beast, and got bitten several times. His father watched from the other side of the fence with an indifferent look on his face, arms folded.

"If that's the way you treat dogs, let's see how it feels to be on the other end," he said, ignoring his son's frightened screams.

He unlocked the gate and Alastor rushed out, catching his breath. The gate closed shut, as the dog barked and scratched wildly at it.

"You're walkin' the rest of the way," Louis ordered before he hoped into his car and chugged off.

Alastor never imagined that he would be wandering on the sidewalk and would suddenly spot a leather bond book on the ground, but that's what happened. It was just lying there, almost as if it was waiting for him. Alastor picked it up and examined the cover. It had a downward facing pentagram on it.

Maybe it was a library book?

Alastor opened it and was intrigued. It was no ordinary book. It was a Satanic book of spells and rituals. Scrawled on the title page in marker were the words "Property of K.I.L.L. (Killer Imps Leave Loss. If found, return to Imp City, Hell).

No one else was around.

Finders keepers, right?

Alastor also would never imagine that he would suddenly become a member of an evil cult.

But once he decided to take an abandoned shortcut through the woods, he thought for sure that there were pairs of eyes staring at him. Alastor ignored the wooden sign that read "Stay Out Of Our Territory!"

He was soon surrounded by three men carrying spears and wearing white robes that appeared to be bloodstained.

"Intruder!" called one of them. He had white skin and wiry black hair.

Alastor held up a hand. "I mean you no harm."

"Outsiders aren't welcome," said another man.

"Those who trespass die," added the third.

Alastor stepped back, accidentally dropping the book.

"Wait," said the first man. "What's that book, there?"

He picked it up and examined it with a gasp.

"It's an authentic book from the other world!" he exclaimed. "I know magic when I see it."

"You're a supporter of the Omnipotent Satan, yes?"

"Uh…yes of course," said Alastor.

"Come then, Brother," he said. "Our leader will assess your worthiness."

Having no choice, Alastor followed the group toward a group of log cottages.

The leader was dressed in bloodstained robes and wore necklaces made from bones. He had long dark hair and a beard. One of the men handed the book over to the leader.

"Very intriguing," he remarked. "An easier way for us to connect with Him. Perhaps fate led this outsider to us."

He turned to Alastor. "I am known simply as The One. If you wish to live, join us and do as I command. For I am a messenger for Satan, Lucifer, Loki, and all the old Lords of Chaos."

Alastor swore his oath and was initiated. He was "purified" by bathing in a pool of blood and eating roasted pig hearts. He spent his time reading books on how to prepare human flesh.

One was the classic cookbook: "The Rarest Meat: Making Classic Foods From Your Own Brethren."

"Human meat tastes similar to pork, though it is milder in flavor and less nutritious. It is slightly darker in coloration than chicken though lighter than beef. The chest, buttocks and muscle are the thicker, tender parts of the human animal; you'll get the most meat from those areas. (The liver is another example.) Breaking the bones and sucking the marrow is a yummy source of protein. Like chicken bones, the human bones can be made into a broth. A few tribes have reported making meat into pastries for neighbors, consumed brains (resulting in mad cow disease symptoms and death) as well as penis soup…"

Alastor tried not to throw up.

"Prepare meat at four hundred degrees for forty five minutes and season with salt, pepper, garlic, and other spices to taste. For safety reasons, like any meat, it's best to not consume raw. Place remainder of meat into icebox until ready to reheat."

Being under oath or not, Alastor decided to not tell his mother about this.

He soon found himself in a bizarre situation.

"But, my parents…I need to go back…"

"No need," dismissed The One. While you're here, you'll be spending weeks with us. Perhaps a few months. Two weeks here will equal two hours, for instance. After two weeks we'll perform the spell again. Rejoice, Brothers and Sisters, for we have a new member with us."

His followers raised their hands and chanted to Satan and Lucifer. Alastor sensed time slowing down in the outside world.

Strangely enough, Alastor forgot what was going on in the outside world, altogether. It almost felt like he had lived his entire life with these strangers.

"Alastor, formerly of New Orleans…welcome to our community, the Hazbins."

He was given a white robe stained with blood to wear, with Satan's symbol on it: an upside down cross with a fancy W at the bottom. The symbol was surrounded by an upside down pentagram.

All around him were pentagrams and Satanic symbols drawn in blood. Animal and human skulls on pikes decorated the campgrounds. A black statue of Lucifer stood on a podium, a winged monster with horns and a goatee. He certainly wasn't the goofy king down in Hell who wore white and carried an apple cane.

The One used the Satanic book to call upon Satan (not Lucifer) down in Hell. Alastor and the other members helped carry struggling victims to the circle, where The One ritually sacrificed them with an obsidian knife. Their souls were then offered to Satan.

Satan was Lucifer's evil counterpart. He could take on many forms, including that of a red muscled man with a black goatee and large bat wings. His base form looked similar to Lucifer, with a black and red suit, a dark top hat, and a dark gray face with venomous fangs and red eyes. He carried a cane with a rotten apple on top. He explained that souls helped fill him up and warm him, as he was trapped in ice in the Ninth Circle of Hell. Lucifer and Satan were once one being until Lucifer purged his evil self away. He hoped to break free and cause mass suffering in Hell and other worlds.

Satanic rituals with animal sacrifice were more common. Goats and pigs were slaughtered and offered to Satan and other dark Gods before the group ate them.

Alastor was in charge of carving symbols into the bodies of animals and humans for the rituals. He tried to ignore the screams of the human victims as he carved the symbols into their bellies and chests as best as he could.

The bloody lines were mesmerizing the longer he looked at them. It felt like he was creating a work of art for something bigger than himself.

"Satan, ruler of Hell," called The One, "We offer this body and soul to you. We thank thee for our daily lives on the planet and hope to bask in your darkness once we return from where we came."

The cult members stood in a circle and chanted, "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven." "Fear him who can destroy both soul and body in Hell. Fear and hail Satan."

Alastor had a feeling that this was not how most other Satanic sects practiced. This was an extreme isolated cult, bent on the manipulation of its members via the use of threat, fear, and magic.

Men and women slept in separate quarters, complete with bunk beds and showers. Every morning, the cult members would pray to Satan and Lucifer. They had to recite and memorize the Unholy Bible. They would use magic to steal food from the city and random humans in the night. It didn't matter whether the members could use magic or not. All of them were bond together under the authority of The One.

One of the main practices of the cult was cannibalism. They believed that sacrificing and eating human flesh would give them supernatural powers and allow them to take on the qualities of that person. If a cult member wanted to become good in music, for instance, they would kill a captured musician. If one wanted to obtain beauty, they'd eat the remains of a model. Alastor found it startling at first, but then grew to like human flesh more and more. Alastor's new dark desires for killing and consumption were promoted and brought to the surface.

Alastor saw the victims that the cult members brought in. Men, women, even children… of any race. They were stripped naked and locked in large cages in one of the cottages. Sometimes, they would be forced to eat their own flesh, to the amusement of the cult. A blonde woman cult member laughed as she burned a trapped boy with a cigarette.

If he didn't behave, he could be next.

It felt strange being on the other end of the stick. Instead of being a victim, he was now forced into becoming a predator.

After two weeks, Alastor's memories of the outside world were returning. He knew that when the group chanted the spell, he would forget his parents, his previous life, and be stuck here for who knew how long.

He prayed to Bondye as he ran through the woods. He grabbed the Satanic book and retrieved his hidden clothes. The members raced after him, spears in their hands. They were fast but Alastor was faster. The One stared at him with murder in his eyes.

Alastor shot fireballs at them and they hit them square on.

After praying to Kalfu and casting a spell, a burning branch fell down on top of them.

"At least they'll be with their Lord and Savior," he thought.

He reached town and promptly changed from his stained robe into his regular clothes. He had remembered to grab his clothing they had hidden behind a bush. He also had the Satanic book with him. He discarded his bloody robes before burning them with a large grin.

Only two hours had indeed, passed.

Alastor "Hazbin" Crowley, the name had a ring to it.

One of the sayings he had heard from the cult stayed with him: "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."

It was a saying that would later reflect the morals of the power-hungry Overlords in Hell and the merciless rule-abiding angels in Heaven. They were both examples of evil authorities…but one was more subtle, and perhaps even worse than the other. The saying would even reflect his own attitude when, decades later, he would be helping Princess Charlie with her so-called Happy Hotel.

For in those two afterlife realms, evil existed in many forms…and didn't always appear as dark demons.

To Alastor and many other individuals, knowing who you were in a world of suffering was better than being a mindless servant in paradise.

Hence why Alastor had chosen not to conform to the status quo. It would've been much easier had he lived as a wealthier white man and ignored the problems and rejections of the oppressed. Living life as an ordinary man.

But Alastor was no ordinary man. He would see himself as the star of the stage he called the world.

For better or worse, he was destined for greater things from the very beginning.

Alastor was thankful to be away from that creepy cult and still be alive.

But his craving for human meat would last for the remainder of his life.

Alastor made his way back home, book in hand, but not before stopping by to listen to a live band play in the French Quarter. It was a group of several men, two African Americans, a Hispanic man and a white man, playing different instruments. One had a saxophone, one a trumpet, one a large drum, and the other a tambourine. The music was upbeat and lively and for a moment, Alastor had forgotten all his troubles. He let himself get lost in the sound, his body swaying to the beat.

The music ended and Alastor clapped. He fished into his pocket for coins and gave some to them.

"Thanks son, glad you enjoyed it," one of them said. It was a friendly-looking black man who had played the trumpet.

No judgement, no sneers, no disgusted looks. Just a smile and a look of appreciation.

"You're all so talented. I want to be in a band when I grow up."

Alastor had spoken his thought out loud.

"No reason why you couldn't, kid," said the man. "Only three things are required: Hard work, practice, and fun. There is some competition though, so if I were you, I'd get practicing on my own. You can progress in life, step by step."

Another man smiled kindly at Alastor. "Agreed. "Piti piti zwazo fe nich li." (little by little, the bird builds its nest).

"Thank you. I sure will," Alastor beamed.

"Have a good day, sir," said Alastor.

"Same to you," he said, before playing some more.

There was a new spring in his steps as Alastor headed back home.