Lifting the cover from the pit, Gary reeled from the stench of putrid flesh emanating from the depths below. The horrors he had witnessed up to this point would peal in comparison to what he would find in this murky abyss.

This was certainly the work of diseased minds. The satanic symbols and inscriptions suggested the work of a cult, and Gary had already deduced that at least 15 or 20 people must have been involved in the ritual slaughter he had already chanced upon.

Descending into the darkness, he gagged and retched. The foul odour was beyond imagination.

As he reached the bottom of the ladder, he panicked; his foot had alighted, not on stone or earth, but on something much softer. He tried to tread lightly, but his feet sank further with each step into the slimy, congealed mess that coated the floor, at least a foot deep.

He nervously reached for his torch, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

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