Satanist, The (1968)

[bunniefuu]

Maybe I'm crazy.

Maybe you can help me decide if
my story really happened

or is the product of an
incurable sick mind.

It all started when I
moved from the big city

to a small
very quiet town

on the doctor's orders.

While I was working
on my latest

novel, I suffered a
serious nervous breakdown

and the prescription was
absolute rest, without

work and without
social life.

My wife and I had rented
a small hut away from the crowds.

We joke about
this opportunity

unexpected for a
second honeymoon.

Against
doctor's orders

sneak through my
typewriter.

My wife Mary was
a city girl and

I knew that the
life didn't appeal to her.

She was a good
sportswoman and certainly

did his best
to distract me

of any thought of writing.

We didn't know it, but my cure
in rest and second honeymoon

was about to
turn into a nightmare.

Several days later,
while driving.

Mary and I had a
something very unusual and

frightening experience. My heart
almost stopped, I was sure that

had just k*lled
the woman on the bike.

It was like a miracle. The woman
simply got up and cleaned herself.

She seemed completely
unharmed by the accident.

She introduced herself as
Chandra, a neighbor.

And she insisted that we accompany her
up the hill to her house.

Chandra seemed
eccentric, but

was certainly friendly
to someone who

had just been hit by
our car. She said that she had

observed us entering
the country house,

although we certainly didn't
noticed it.

Her house looked
strange appearance and was decorated with objects.

I didn't blame Mary for
being a bit restless.

Chandra was very hospitable.
She said

who was a student
of the occult.

A curious interest for
someone so obviously sophisticated.

She seemed to know that I was a

writer and lent me
a book she promised

that I would find extremely
interesting. The old volume

immediately seemed to
cast a spell on

me. Something quite
extraordinary happened and

I felt like I was being watched.

It must have been my imagination, because
neither of the two girls looked

notice that I really
needed a good rest.

When we said goodbye,
Chandra made us promise

that we were going to a
party that she was

giving on the sabbath. She assured us
that we would find some

interesting people in the neighborhood and that
we would be their guests of honor.

Mary seemed fascinated
by this strange woman.

I sat up late that
night completely

absorbed in that ancient
book of sorcery.

Black rites, spells,
transformations and love potions

passed down through the centuries.
Me

certainly wasn't
prepared to believe

in the supernatural, but,
however, there is much

supported the theory
that witchcraft was

simply a form of sexual
magic, an ancient means of breaking the

taboos of a rigid society and
freeing the animal spirit that

is in all humans.

My curiosity about
this strange woman

and the vision I had
seen in the mirror

lured me
to her house.

With my own
eyes, I would witness

one of the forbidden rites
of that ancient

book.

That was no hallucination.

I've never seen such evil
in a human face.

I was sure that
she or it had

me and if Chandra
was aware

that I had penetrated
into his secret world.

What would she do when
I finally fell

sleep that night? It wasn't easy.

I was going to experience a
very curious and erotic dream.

A passage from the old book kept
repeating itself in my mind.

So men, through the
illusion of hell,

would show demons
in their beds.

A succubus, a demon
who came at night.

To drain the strength
of human males.

Night after night the
dream came to me.

I didn't dare tell Mary, who
thought my problems came from

of my absorption
in that crazy book.

Without telling me, she
decided to do something about it.

When Mary entered
the house with my

lost glasses.
Hysterically, he told me

what you witnessed from Chandra.
It was almost a relief for both of us.

I couldn't have been hallucinating.
I was trying to convince myself that

I wasn't on the verge of another breakdown.
Now I

knew that something strange
was happening.

Something from that old book that

had no place in the
the logical light of the 20th century.

I promised Mary that
we would break our

relationship with these
strange neighbors

immediately. But I had
forgotten about the promise to be

guests of honor
at Chandra's party.

The night of the party we met
once again at Chandra's house.

We had decided to
to do a brief

appearance and then
ask to be excused.

Right at the door something
told us to come back.

But it was too late.

A strange group of guests
awaited our arrival.

Chandra seemed to exert some
strange power over both of us.

The book had warned about
the forbidden Black Sabbath.

The gathering of witches to
worship the devil himself.

Chandra as sabbath queen opened
the first act of this unholy

sacrament, calling his
servants to feed

the senses.

Offering drinks to delude the
mind and free the body spirit.

Perhaps from ancient times
placed in the Belladonna.

The dance brought from
Eastern Europe.

Amorous and obscene to
awaken and prepare the faithful

for the final homage to the evil one.

I was fascinated by this performance
of the dusty pages of the past.

But at the same time

memory, of that
cursed was

trying to warn me.

I realized too late that
Mary and I were

destined to be more
than spectators

in this bizarre ceremony.
The arrival of the profane

completed number thirteen.

My drink must have
been heavily drugged.

I was physically powerless to resist.
My mind was free to

watch the second act
of this farce with clarity.

That would drive me to the brink of madness.

The book had warned about the
devil's sport. Where the wife

was undressed and shown naked and without

shame in front of
my own eyes.

Mary was the devil's bride.

Altar and host
became the next act

of this evil parody
about religion.

And over the prostrate body
of my wife.

Chandra performed
the ancient rites of

Black mass.

The last act of symbolic
before

the bride's offer to the devil.

Each man should put

the mask of fertility and be welcomed
welcome in the arms of my wife.

And everyone should
shout the enchantment

to invoke the devil
in the ceremony.

Helpless, I could only
watch as if I were dreaming.

The blood worshippers
excited by the spectacle.

And the strong wine soon provoked
a bacchanal of meat.

Since the beginning of Christianity,
the devil had certainly been

summoned from his lair.
Nightmare, madness, reality.

What man really knows
about the power of darkness

inside the human soul?

The last thing I remember
was a mocking laugh.

Maybe it was me.

The road back to
sanity is difficult.

But with help,
I was finally able to see

that what happened was just
a nightmare. A product of my

overloaded imagination.

Mary and my psychiatrist
became close friends.

They worked together. They even planned
a welcome party for me.

On the sabbath.