Soda slobbering down their chins, gullets filled, the entire group of youths toss their plates in the trash and make for the door to the playground. Members of the Altar Guild stand there, completely taken aback at the lack of religion on display tonight.
Don’t you mean religion not on display tonight? Says the voice in your head.
Before you can stop them, everyone is on the playground, giggling maniacally and running around in a frenzy. Something seems off, but you cannot tell what.
You shrug your shoulders at the adults and head outside. Someone’s got to try and corral this bunch.
Then, looking over at the swings, you notice their eyes. The whites of everyone’s eyes are pink, almost glowing, and their pupils are like tiny pinpricks! Now when they laugh, they are beginning to sound like grunts, snorts, and chortles. Are they making animals sounds? You wonder.
Suddenly, a whirring sound descends from above and everyone assembles in a circle around the dark, leathery-winged figure who has landed in their midst.
If you yell at everyone to get inside, turn to page 87.
If you join the group, turn to page 92.