Jacob sat in the corner of his tiny apartment, staring at the worn leather cover of the Bible that lay unopened on his lap. He had never been the religious type. Actually, he still wasn’t. The whole “getting saved” thing had happened only a few weeks ago, and even then, he wasn’t exactly sure how it worked. But something had drawn him to it, like a flicker of light in the middle of his personal chaos. He remembered standing there, in that old church, with a bunch of people he didn’t know, muttering some prayer the pastor had led them through. It had felt…surreal. But even after that, life didn’t change overnight. Not really.
He sighed, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. Somewhere in there was supposed to be all the answers, right? He glanced at his coffee table, where a bag of shrooms sat, half-emptied. They were his old friends—the ones that had never let him down. With them, things felt clearer, like his mind opened up in ways it normally couldn’t. The Bible in front of him? It was mostly closed doors, cryptic passages that didn’t seem to apply to real life.
His phone buzzed, jolting him from his thoughts. It was Alex, his buddy from the neighborhood, the one who always knew how to get a good high. Jacob hesitated. Maybe, just maybe, it would be different now. Maybe he could take the shrooms and actually understand what this whole Bible thing was talking about. After all, he hadn’t seen anything in there about not doing shrooms. No big warning signs that said, “Don’t open your mind,” right?
He texted Alex back, then reached for the bag. “Just a little,” he muttered to himself, feeling the familiar sensation of the dried fungi in his hand. His heart thumped a bit louder in his chest, a mix of anticipation and hesitation. He had gotten clean after that church thing, but… he wasn’t convinced it mattered. Not yet, anyway.
He popped a few shrooms into his mouth, chasing them down with a swig of water. The taste was bitter, earthy—something that always made him cringe. He leaned back on the couch, feeling the world around him begin to shift, that slow, creeping sensation as reality bent at the edges.
At first, it was good. It always started that way, with everything becoming sharper, more vibrant. Colors on the walls started to pulse, the world around him seemed to dance with possibilities. He stared at the Bible again, its cover glowing in a way he had never noticed before. Maybe this time he would see it, whatever “it” was.
Jacob flipped the Bible open, staring at the words that seemed to float off the page, swimming in and out of focus. But instead of clarity, there was confusion. The letters twisted, shifting into shapes he didn’t recognize. His breath quickened. This wasn’t right.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. The air around him grew heavy, thick with an oppressive force that pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. His heart raced, pounding in his chest like a drumbeat growing louder with each passing second. He tried to close the Bible, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. They were frozen, as if some invisible force was holding him in place.
Suddenly, the room darkened, the once vibrant colors draining into a murky, suffocating shadow. And then came the voices.
“You’re ours,” they whispered, soft at first, like a distant echo. “He’s ours.”
Jacob’s throat tightened as he struggled to understand what was happening. His body felt pinned to the couch, like he was sinking deeper into some unseen abyss. He wanted to scream, but his voice wouldn’t come. Panic surged through him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them—dark figures, barely visible, their shapes flickering in and out of the shadows like phantoms. Their eyes glowed with a malevolent light, and their presence felt heavy, choking. They drew closer, surrounding him, their whispers growing louder, more insistent.
“You’ve been at our table,” one hissed, its voice like nails scraping across his skin.
Jacob’s heart hammered in his chest, each beat reverberating in his skull. He tried to shake his head, to deny it, to push back against the suffocating fear that gripped him, but the words repeated in his mind, over and over again.
“Our table.”
The weight of his decisions crashed into him like a tidal wave. The drugs, the lifestyle, the constant running from one high to the next—it had led him here, to this moment of darkness, and now it was claiming him. But even in the midst of the chaos, another voice broke through, one that was soft but powerful. He barely heard it at first.
“He’s mine.”
The voice was different—calm, steady, and full of authority. It wasn’t like the whispering shadows that circled him, mocking him, taunting him. This voice cut through the noise, bringing with it a glimmer of hope.
“No,” the voice said again, more forcefully. “I paid the price for him.”
In an instant, the dark figures recoiled, their presence still lingering, but their power lessened. Jacob gasped, his body still tense, but now able to move, to think. He could feel the tug of war happening around him, a battle over his very soul. The room crackled with tension.
One of the shadows sneered, its form solidifying for just a moment. “He’s been partaking of the food of our table,” it growled. “He belongs to us.”
But the other voice—the one filled with authority—responded with a finality that made Jacob’s heart leap in his chest.
“No, he doesn’t.”
The oppressive weight that had held Jacob down vanished. He gasped for air, his body trembling, as if it had been freed from chains he hadn’t even realized were binding him. The shadows melted into the walls, dissipating like smoke in the wind. The room felt lighter, though the lingering chill of their presence remained.
Jacob sat there, staring at his hands, his mind racing. What had just happened? He had felt it—the battle, the terror, and the unmistakable presence of something divine. His heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t just fear anymore. It was something else. Something new.
His phone buzzed again. It was Alex, asking if he wanted to meet up.
Jacob stared at the message for a long moment, his fingers hovering over the screen. His mind replayed the voices, the darkness, the terror. And then, clear as day, he heard the final words from that other voice. The one that had saved him.
“Let’s not do that anymore.”
With shaking hands, he deleted Alex’s message and tossed the bag of shrooms into the trash. His heart was still racing, but there was a different kind of energy coursing through him now—one that wasn’t fueled by drugs or fear. It was a deeper kind of resolve.
Jacob looked at the Bible still lying open on his lap, the pages no longer twisting or shifting in and out of focus. They were just words now—clear, steady, waiting for him. This time, he felt ready. Not because he had all the answers, but because he knew, without a doubt, that something had changed.
He wasn’t alone in this fight. He never had been.
As the weight of everything settled over him, Jacob whispered into the silence of the room, “Never again.”
And this time, he meant it.
