The Bacchanalia

The back of the SUV was loaded with all the necessary supplies; the cooler full of food, several cases of beer, camping gear and, most importantly, all the pagan costumery. The radio was turned up loud and the four 20-somethings traveling north across the Oregon border were all in high spirits.

The Bacchanalia was no Coachella or Burning Man. It was not meant for the masses. It was not a commercial venture. The organizer’s didn’t even have a website or any social media accounts. The whole point was for any potential attendees to be clever and industrious enough to follow the clues that were laid out to find the hidden symbology in various obscure sites across the internet in order to be the first to identify one of 25 cryptic email addresses set up for the event. The first person to contact one of these email addresses would receive an invitation for a group of four (and the four-person group was a firm requirement, thus guaranteeing exactly 100 attendees each year).

These invitations provided information about what to bring and where to arrive on the Friday afternoon before the start of the event. This would not be the actual event location, but typically a gas station or supermarket parking lot. Upon arrival there the attendees would be met by an event staffer who would perform a brief vetting process and then lead the group to the festival location. The meet-up site would be different for all 25 invitations in order to ensure the secrecy of the event and prevent others from crashing the party.

The Bacchanalia was reportedly now in at least its 28th year and not once was this veil of secrecy ever pierced. It was a highly clandestine thing and there was some speculative information about the festival on the internet but nothing truly verifiable, which is part of what made it so cool.

Some friendly ball-breaking was currently taking place in the backseat of the SUV.

“I can’t believe you made this happen, Pete. I always thought you were a dumbass but apparently I was wrong, at least as far as it relates to deciphering weird, archaic shit on the internet. You’re still a dumbass in all other categories until proven otherwise.”

“Just so you know, Kenny, I invited Taylor first but he had to work this weekend and that’s why you’re here now.”

“Awww. I love you too, Pete. This is gonna be fun.”

In the driver seat Brad turned down the stereo.

“Okay, looks like we take the next exit and then the meeting spot is the 7-11 right off the exit ramp. We’re meeting a guy named Franklin and he will be in a blue Ford pickup.”

They arrived at the 7-11 ten minutes before the scheduled meeting time and the blue Ford pickup was waiting. The driver, a tall wiry guy wearing a baseball cap, hopped out and walked up to the driver’s window of the SUV.

“Hey man, I assume you're Franklin?”

“Yes sir, pleased to meet you.”

“Hey, I’m Brad, this is Justin and that’s Kenny and Pete in the back.”

Franklin got right down to business.

“Okay, so first things first. Have you packed everything that was listed in the email you received?”

“Yes, sir.” Brad exited the vehicle, popped the rear liftgate and showed Franklin their supplies. After a minute or so Franklin went over a few other items and then they were on their way, following the blue Ford pickup off into the forests of southern Oregon. About a half hour later Brad’s phone pinged with a new text message.

“Listen to this. I just got a text from my brother. It says, Dude, you need to call me right away. I was talking to Jimmy the bartender at Coogan’s and he had some pretty disturbing shit to say about that festival you guys are going to this weekend. Call me.”

“You have a signal? I have zero bars,” Justin said from the passenger seat, staring at his phone.

“I have one bar. Calling him now.” He clicked the call button and set the phone into speaker mode.

“Hey, you got my text?”

“Yeah man, what did Jimmy tell you?”

“Well, apparently his roommate's sister went to that festival, or whatever it is, a few years back with three of her friends but she only came back with two. They said that the fourth girl went missing in the forest and they went looking for her for two days but couldn’t find her. But Jimmy said his roommate’s sister was never really the same after that. She ended up in a psych ward a few weeks later and apparently there were rumors that one of the other two girls…[signal interruption]...and no one knows what…[signal interruption]...but Jimmy heard that they perform some really…[signal interruption]...and people have…[call dropped]

Brad looked at Justin. “What the fuck was that?”

Justin shrugged. “Call him back.”

Brad tried but the signal was gone and they were only heading deeper into the backcountry. It was unlikely to return.

“Well that was fucking creepy,” Kenny said from the backseat.

Pete asked, “Who is Jimmy the Bartender and why do we believe whatever rumors his roommate is spreading? He didn’t even mention The Bacchanalia by name. How do we even know this is the same festival this girl went to, if it’s even true? Sounds like bullshit.”

There was silence in the SUV for a few beats and then Kenny spoke up.

“Well, it certainly doesn’t change anything for me. If any of us gets lost in the forest it will be dumbass over here and besides, Justin should probably be in a psych ward anyway.”

They all laughed. The three passengers apparently thought little about what they just heard but Brad knew Jimmy and he was a straight shooter and a smart guy - not known for rumor mongering. If anything he was generally a skeptic.

The road eventually turned from pavement to dirt and they were soon bouncing down a remote fire road through a thick forest and a short time later they arrived at the festival site; a beautiful location set across a large grassy field beside a pristine lake surrounded by redwoods and rocky cliffs to the east.

A number of wood and metal structures had been erected around the site, all bearing mystical pagan symbols of various designs and there was a massive bonfire set up in the center of everything just waiting to be set ablaze at nightfall. Many attendees had already arrived and their tents were set up in tight clusters at either end of the field. Others began to arrive steadily as the boys set up their own campsite and the event staffers were assisting here and there. There was a general feeling of camaraderie and anticipation all about.

Once his tent was set up Brad looked over at a nearby campsite with some lawn chairs placed about and a group of two guys and two girls drinking beer and talking. One of the guys smiled and tossed him a peace sign so Brad strolled over and introduced himself.

“So this should be pretty cool, huh? I don’t really know what to expect but it sure is a beautiful setting,” he said. The guy next to him clinked his beer bottle lightly against Brad’s and agreed. “Hell yeah.”

“I’m not really into all the pagan and wiccan stuff like some people here but it should be a very cool experience anyway. I don’t know what to expect either,” one of the girls said.

They talked for a while and eventually Brad raised the question that was still sitting uneasily with him.

“Hey, have any of you guys ever heard any weird rumors about things that have gone on here in the past?”

“What kind of rumors?” the other girl asked.

“Well, I don’t really know for sure but I got a call from my brother when we were on our way here and he said some things about a girl going lost in the woods and her friends coming back home, I don’t know, different? The call cut out and we lost the signal so I couldn’t get any more details,” Brad replied with his palms held out. “It’s probably just urban legend but I was curious if you guys had heard anything like that.”

They all shrugged and said no but a passerby, a short and stocky guy with a long goatee, stopped when he overheard what Brad just said.

“Hey man, I’m sorry to intrude but I caught part of what you just said. I actually heard something similar but not exactly the same. I heard a few years ago that a guy drowned in the river where they were holding the festival that year. His friends supposedly provided no help to local authorities in the search for the body and they were all briefly held pending charges but eventually they had to be released. Just a story I heard. I don’t actually know anyone who was there.”

“Hey guys, you’re really harshing the vibe. Let’s all just agree on two rules: No drowning in the lake and no drifting off into the woods like Hansel and Gretel, okay? Now who wants a shot of Cuervo?” the bottle-clinker asked. Everyone laughed and Brad took a shot of tequila with them, his quiet concerns still unresolved.

Just before dark the event organizers walked around and asked the attendees to gather up by the bonfire for a brief announcement and everyone drifted in that direction and formed a large pack. One of the older event organizers, a large man of approximately 45-50 years, spoke up with a jovial voice that carried well.

“Welcome to The Bacchanalia!”

Cheers went up and the man waited for them to subside.

“We are pleased that you are all here with us for this occasion. The fact that you received an invitation is proof of your wit and wisdom, as well as your desire to be part of this celebration. This weekend, we celebrate the spirit of Bacchus, God of Wine, Freedom, Intoxication and Ecstasy!!!”

The crowd exploded with cheers this time.

“If you have any questions or need help with anything just ask any of the event staff, who are all wearing the same black t-shirt with the Pagan balefire symbol that you see me wearing now. And with that said, it is almost time to light the campfire and serve the libations. Please return to your campsites now and don your costumery and then return to the bonfire once you see it burning, which should be in the next twenty minutes. Get ready to celebrate!”

The crowd gave a final round of cheers and then everyone dispersed and returned to their campsites to dress up for the first night of the festival. A short time later the bonfire was blazing and everyone was gathered around, although now they were all dressed in their festival costumery. There were druids and plague doctors, witches and warlocks, shamans and Odinists, and one exceptionally large guy was even dressed up as an Ogre. Brad just wore a pair of deer antlers with a brass Ank necklace and his three friends were all dressed in fairly simple costumes as well.

The older man from the event staff who made the brief welcome speech earlier stepped forward again and asked for the crowd’s attention.

“Friends, we now begin our ceremonies! In honor of Bacchus, God of Wine, you can see we have many cases of fine Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay from Napa spread out on the tables to my right. You are welcome to help yourselves to as much as you like throughout the night, but in honor of Bacchus we ask that you all take one glass with us right now as we raise a toast together to start the festival.”

About a dozen of the event staffers in the black t-shirts began moving through the crowd passing out small plastic cups of red and white wine from serving trays to the attendees. Once everyone was served the staff leader raised his own glass and belted out a brief toast:

“To an evening of indulgence and revelry we shall never remember!”

The crowd roared with laughter and the wine cups were all consumed and at that moment the drumbeat started and then the flutes joined in and a small band of event staffers began banging out an upbeat Celtic tune. The staff leader grabbed the hand of a young woman standing nearby in a white gown with a wreath of flowers in her hair, smiled at her and said, “Follow me, dear child!”

He began to prance around the fire and the girl followed, grabbing her friend's hand as she did. The girl at the end of the short line held her empty hand out behind her and soon someone else latched on and did the same. Within a few minutes the entire group of Bacchanalia participants were dancing in a ring around the blazing bonfire as it cast its shifting orange-yellow light into the starry sky above and event staffers stepped up to toss incense and herbs into the flames.

As the band gradually increased the tempo of the music the ring of people moved faster and faster around the bonfire until they reached an almost dizzying speed. The dance had been going for quite some time and when it began Brad felt a growing sense of jubilation and euphoria but now he was starting to feel disoriented and somewhat nauseous.

Suddenly the music stopped.

As soon as it did the ring of dancers all stopped as well. They turned towards the fire and dropped their linked hands. The only sound was the crackling of the fire as it sent its sparks rising up into the night. Brad looked to his right and saw Kenny and Pete staring like zombies into the massive bonfire.

“Hey. Do you guys feel alright? I’m starting to feel sick.” It hurt his head just trying to speak. Kenny and Pete continued to stare directly into the fire as if they hadn’t heard a word he said. Brad looked to his left where Justin was standing, staring into the fire in a statuesque fashion.

“Hey Justin, you okay? Can you hear me?”

Justin didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. Brad felt the edges of his vision starting to blur as he looked all around the bonfire at the festival participants dressed in their various costumes with the reflection of the flames dancing in their eyes. Then he felt his neck stiffen as he began to stare into the center of the bonfire as well. He tried to speak to Kenny and Pete again and found he could not.

An event staffer backed a large dump truck down to a space close to the fire and parked it there as several other staffers moved a large metal funeral pyre in place above the flames. The staff leader stepped forward, now dressed in a long black hooded robe with gold trim, and spoke up in a commanding and no-longer convivial tone.

“Supplicants! We must now feed the primal spirits of the ancient world to continue the Days of Light on Earth and keep The Darkness at bay. The time has come for us to perform our sacred rites." He paused for a few seconds and then added, "Each group must choose one to send up.”

All one hundred festival participants hung their chins in unison. Again, for a short time the only sound was the crackling of the bonfire as staffers stepped up with additional wood to feed the flames. Then a group of four young women turned to one another. They said nothing at all but after a moment three of them sat down and the fourth turned and silently climbed the ladder up to the funeral pyre where she laid her body down above the flames. As her hair and clothing went up and her skin started to blacken she never made a sound.

The next group of four adjacent to the three seated young ladies then turned to themselves in the same fashion. Again, no words were spoken but after a moment three of them sat down and one slowly made his way to the ladder as some event staffers wearing heavy fireproof gloves used large hooked metal rods to clear the pyre for the next sacrificial offering and the dump truck to load up the charred remains. This process continued in turn around the bonfire but Brad soon lost consciousness and only witnessed the rites of the first few groups.

When he awoke, he found himself in a jail cell in Bend, Oregon. He had no idea how he had gotten to Oregon or what he was doing there but a police officer told Brad that he was under arrest for DUI, reckless driving and vehicular manslaughter after crashing his SUV and killing his friends Kenny Williams and Justin Curtis. The last thing he could remember was driving north through Sonoma County with those two as well as Pete.

“What about Pete Lange? Did he survive the wreck?”

“Those were the only two passengers in the vehicle with you. I don’t know anything about Mister Lange, I am afraid.”

Brad received an 8-year sentence at Deer Ridge Correctional Institute. He slept poorly in his cell and counted that as a blessing. Every time he did drift off to sleep he invariably found himself in a nightmare where he was part of a large ring of monsters gathered shoulder-to-shoulder around a massive bonfire blazing brightly in the night, their shadows dancing like gleeful demons while the smell of burning flesh filled the air. He hoped that one day this ongoing fever dream that haunted his sleep would come to an end, but he didn't really believe it ever could.

THE END