Julian was having quite a day. Everything around him was dark, and though they were muffled, he could still hear the words of those that he could feel crowding around him clearly: "O Might God of Death! We provide to you this offering, so that you may spare us your wrath!" There was some shuffling and then a sudden rush of heat that startled him into trying to scream, but he realized his mouth was full and taped shut. He tried his hardest to struggle, but he felt thin cords digging further into his skin. He was gagged and bound-- these were the last things he expected to be when he got up this morning. Late to class, maybe; exhausted from an all-nighter studying, absolutely. But tied up with a bag over his head and a splitting migraine? This was definitely not what he was expecting. "The Sacrifice has awakened! The ritual can begin!" someone to his left hissed. There was another whoosh of hot air, so close to him that he feared he was being burned, and again he tried to scream. Something grabbed at him, and he immediately flinched away from the touch-- as a result, the bag was torn from his head, along with a few strands of hair and the reality of the situation was able to form. It was suddenly night. Shadows of trees loomed overhead and cloaked figures lurked beneath him at all sides. Julian whipped his head around him, tearing eyes widening as the terror began to set in. Oh God, this is real. The hidden figures of chanting, some of them fanning the fires of a bonfire that was a mere inches from him, and it seemed that the flames were being coaxed in his direction. He tried to twist from his restraints, only to find that they were bound behind him to a post. Beneath him, the leaves of herbs and odd looking flowers were beginning to smoke as hot embers leaped from the pit onto them. Oh, GOD. They're going to set me on FIRE. Julian began to cry. He couldn't remember what he was doing before this, and he couldn't see a way out of this. He pulled his knees to his chest as hard as he could, shrieked until his throat was raw, attempted to beg-- but nothing was happening. The flames were starting to catch and work its way closer to him. These people were insane, but they were going to be successful in sacrificing him. But why? He wasn't even a virgin! One of the cloaked psychopaths suddenly let out a startled cry. "Lights! Shit, it must be the cops!" he cried out, and suddenly the rest of them scrambled. "What about the sacrifice?" One of them asked, to which Julian couldn't help but agree. "It's already being done. Death is going to come for him either way and will be satisfied. We gotta get out of here!" shouted another. And all of the sudden, Julian was alone. He couldn't turn enough to see where they went. He sobbed and fought harder, yanking at his arms so hard he felt his shoulders might dislocate. He had actually been left to die in the middle of some godforsaken woods by people he didn't even know existed for reasons he had not been given the answers to. They didn't even have the decency to finish him off, and he was just going to have to suffer, and for what? For some ritual? If he had to guess, this was probably the worst day he had ever had, and it was starting to look like his last.