The Secret SING! Cult
Issue 11, Volume 113
It was another day at Soph-Frosh SING!. The angelic sounds of the cast and chorus were drowned out by the hammering of tech and the stomping of dance crews. Our protagonist, a small freshie, was in the hallway, taking a break from the backstage grind. It was insanely hot backstage that day, so they wandered into the main hallway of the first floor, searching for a water fountain.
But the snarling labyrinth of the first floor was unforgiving to the small freshman, and soon, they were lost. Unable to find their way back to their crew, they wandered down identical-looking corridors, searching for a way back. None was found. Just as they resigned themselves to their fate as a lost hermit on the first floor, they spotted a door with a sign labeled “SING! MEETING.”
Aha! There must be directors in there doing director things like crying about finances. They could give directions on the way back! The freshie pushed the door open.
Weirdly enough, rather than a classroom or some other normal meeting place, the door led to a supply closet. As the freshie opened the door, a heat wave struck them and they jumped back. Scattered all over the floor were empty coffee cups and shreds of college rejection letters—this was clearly a den of upperclassman misery, somewhere the freshie was intruding. In the center of the room were nine or 10 figures, each dressed in black velvet cloaks. They stood in a circle holding hands, somehow encased within a scorching ball of fire as their cloaks billowed dramatically behind them. Around the figures and painted on the walls were words written in suspicious red ink, which also burned—and was that a human hand in the corner of the room? The freshie stepped forward cautiously and tried their best to read the flaming words. Higher budget? Taylor Swift tour tickets? Senior win? The first two were valid, but what atrocities were going on here that involved a Senior win?
As they watched, the figures joined hands. Together they chanted and cried in Latin, but the freshie was able to follow along. Finally, taking Latin as their foreign language had paid off!
“O demons, arise! Awake from your infernal slumber and wreak havoc upon our enemies!”
Meh, it was probably just Junior SING! trying to summon Satan or something to make their Bible camp more realistic. The freshie turned to leave but suddenly heard something that gave them pause.
“Grant us the unholy wishes written before you! A higher budget! Taylor Swift concert tickets! A five on my AP Physics C test! A SENIOR WIN!”
The freshie turned around. As they watched, the hooded figures chanted their wishes over and over. The words on the parchment began to writhe, and a noxious gas not unlike the smell of the bathrooms plumed out from them. The room began to shake, and the freshie stumbled as the earthquake grew stronger, but the figures only got louder. Finally, as they yelled “SENIOR WIN!” for the last time, evil cackling filled the room. A demonic voice cried out, “AHAHAHAHA! THOSE SING! SLATE KIDS ARE BACK AGAIN! WANTING A SENIOR WIN AGAIN THIS YEAR?”
One of the figures said in reply, “Yes! Please grant us this, O Evil One, CEO of College Board!”
The voice chuckled. “Yes… these are the lengths you kids will go to to succeed… I respect that. I will grant you your wishes as you desire… Wait. I sense an uninvited presence in the room. The worst creature this planet has to offer, even worse than I.”
One of the cloaked figures gasped. “A freshman?”
“Yes… How dare you bring a freshman into this unholy chamber?! You have violated your oath of secrecy! YOU WILL BE PUNISHED!”
The demonic voice finished its sentence, and deafening silence filled the room. The air became hotter and stickier with each passing second as the fire burned even hotter. The flames flickered and exuded inky trails, and the room exploded in an impressive fireball. The explosion’s shockwave threw the demon summoners into the hallway, and the freshie landed on their face. The cloaked figures turned to the freshie, who desperately crawled to their feet. Before any of the hooded figures could give chase, the freshie was off and running, horrified at what they had just seen.
But the threat of punishment lingered… What was in store for them?
TWO WEEKS LATER
Indeed, a horrific punishment had arrived. Something world-shaking, agonizing, and terrible. Despite everything they had tried, everything they had suffered through, the worst had happened. Soph-Frosh SING! had won.