Our Mother Welcomes You

20251022

Written for Bradley Ramsey's "First Indulgence" event.

Honestly? This was only like the fourth creepiest cult Natasha had been in. Er, investigated. At least the leader wasn’t constantly trying to ‘commune’ with women. In fact, Natasha hadn’t been so much as hit on since moving to the complex, which almost made up for not being able to watch TV. (This job just had to come in during Bakeoff…)
And getting into the inner echelons was refreshingly quick and simple (and oddly cheap); spend three days in ‘guided meditation’, which mostly meant listening to tapes of chant-like droning, eat only the provided foods (bland af dishes like plain rice and boiled veg, but at least all the ingredients were obvious), and undergo the induction ceremony.
Maybe that accessibility was part of the appeal behind their meteoric rise. Plus the immediate sense of community you got from living like this.
But where was the money? That’s the thread to follow once properly inside. The question of why people got suckered into cults was far less important than why someone set up the cult. Since this didn’t seem to be facilitating some sick harem fantasy it had to be about dosh.
Natasha finished tying her hair back and inspected her reflection. Mostly checking that the audio recorder wasn’t noticeable. Thankfully baggy linen robes like these made hiding accessories a breeze.
She gave a satisfied nod, set the recorder running, and pulled up her hood before stepping out of the changing room to join the line of inductees.
Interesting that the “ceremony” was performed one person at a time. The glassy eyes and blissful smiles of those living the chapel suggested drugs were involved, and generally group euphoria was more potent.
Natasha kept her head demurely ducked while making careful mental notes about each “sibling”. No noticeable trend regarding age, gender, or ethnicity. This cult truly had wide appeal.
Then it was her turn. Beckoned through carved wooden doors into a stone room lit by tapered black candles, the air thick with some musky incense which presumably both masked and carried the drugs.
“Welcome, Beatrice.” (If you needed to give a false name, why not pick an awesome one?) “Are you ready to meet Our Mother, and enter the family?”
“I am.”
The esteemed cult leader, or as he was called ‘Big Brother Paul’, bowed in response, and she carefully echoed the gesture.
He was weirdly… an ‘alright bloke’ kinda guy to be leading a cult. Zilch charisma. Equal lack of burning infectious passion. He certainly wasn’t a looker (unless you were into dumpy, balding, vaguely teddybear-esk guys). Somebody you wouldn’t glance twice at, or even really notice, if he was sat in your local pub.
Every other time Natasha had met a cult leader in person it’d suddenly made sense why people were buying into their nonsense, but with this guy it just added to the puzzle.
Fortunately, she liked puzzles.
Alright, time to smile and nod her way through another ‘sacred ritual’.
Dab this scented oil on each eyelid and both ears… wash your hands three times, each in a different herby water (ladled from a line of miss-matched commercial soup heaters, that was totally going in the article)… and finally, let them prick between your eyebrows for a drop of blood which was added to the waiting dish of oil. (Was it just vegetable oil? Essential oils? Impossible to tell.)
The circle of cult members started chanting. While usually these ‘sacred prayers’ were a hodgepodge of Latin and other old languages which either made no sense or were downright funny translated (in your face, Aunt Gladys, that history of literature degree was totally a good investment!), this sounded like the same meaningless throaty syllables that’d been on those tapes.
Talk about half-arsed.
Paul bowed low and, holding that position, slowly clapped his hands three times. “Mother? This is Beatrice. She wants to join the family.”
And the room fell away. Paul, the chanting, even the light, suddenly felt like it was… being reflected by a mirror past the far side of the room.
Natasha blinked and fought the impulse to pinch herself. Whew, that was some good drugs! He hadn’t even needed to prime her. Oddly, she wasn’t noticing much by way of symptoms, no dizziness or-
“HELLO BEATRICE.”
Her ears burned as the voice forced its way inside. Without thinking she looked up, and found Mother was just as hard to look at.
What made it through her flailing, bewildered senses was vastness. That this space couldn’t begin to hold Mother, and so reality itself had politely squinched and shuffled until there was a gap for Mother to peep through.
It was… it was as if someone took an entire ocean and squashed it into a room and when you looked at it you saw the entire ocean.
Beatrice’s eyes watered. Her body desperately trying to shield itself.
“I KNOW THAT YOU HOPED TO DECEIVE US. THAT YOUR FAITH WAS FEIGNED. BUT I AM MERCIFUL. YOU, TOO, WILL BE WELCOMED AS PART OF MY ASCENSION. LEAVE YOUR PAST BEHIND AND JOIN THE FAMILY.”
Her… past? Beatrice blinked. Trying to think past the clashing echoes rattling her mind, trying to remember what Mother was talking about. There was… something, but… it all felt so unimportant.
“EXCELLENT. LET NATASHA FADE.”
Nat… ash… a?
Beatrice’s eyes fluttered shut as the spot between her brows pulsed and fizzled. She felt… enfolded in a warmth so deep it had no end. She felt safe. She felt loved.
“YOU ARE, MY CHILD. FROM NOW ON, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE LOVED. YOU ARE HOME.”
Home. Beatrice smiled, tears of joy and agony sliding down her cheeks.
“NOW, GO PLAY WITH YOUR SIBLINGS. DO YOUR CHORES. AND BE PREPARED TO AID MY ASCENSION.”
“Yes, Mother.” Beatrice nodded, letting her hood fall back so she could smile up at the beautiful, wonderful, unfathomable being gazing into her.
If only she could truly see Her. If only She was here.
Ascension couldn’t come fast enough.

Prompt was “A new religious group begins growing rapidly, as millions flock to join the cause. Rumors begin to spread that it’s secretly a cult, gathering sacrifices for an ancient god. An investigative journalist goes undercover in the group to discover the truth…”