There’s a cult in a city about an hour’s drive from me, and everyone who’s lived here long enough knows it. Hell, I hadn’t lived here very long and I know it. We’d all heard rumors or stories told over a campfire about what happens in Pondsville. Any time there was a kidnapping or a murder, people would whisper in hushed tones about the People’s Golden Ministry. Even as far back as the 80’s when a serial killer roamed the streets, people claimed it was a series of killings executed by “the hicks up north”. We all knew what that meant.
Very few people knew anything at all about the ministry, except that it’s run by James Golding II and that they own half the shops in Pondsville. I’ve been to one of the shops before, a restaurant. The food was good, but the waitresses disturbed me a bit. Only women were on staff, and they all seemed unreasonably cheerful. I’ve worked in food service, so I know a forced smile when I see one.
That was why, when my friend Ethan asked what I knew about the cult in Pondsville, I immediately suggested we check it out. I don’t know what I even expected us to find, I just wanted any excuse to get out of the house. It was the summer after senior year, and I was finally free, with the stipulation of still living with my parents. And not owning a car. So, free as long as I could get a ride and was back before dark. Ethan was waiting in my driveway in his pickup 40 minutes later.
“It’s all a conspiracy man, like Ozark. They’re money laundering, they have to be.” His tirade began the moment I got in the car.
“That’s why they own all those businesses that only take cash out in bumfuck nowhere. Do you really think they’re making a profit on a mini golf course in a town with 300 people?”
“Could be that they like a captive audience,” I retorted. “I’m sure when there’s nothing to do but sit on your ass or play mini golf, people will play.”
Ethan and I hadn’t been friends long. It’s hard to make friends in a town where everyone has known each other since pre-k and you move in senior year, there are pre-established bonds and precedents that you know nothing about. It’s harder still to make friends when your teachers keep calling you Michelle instead of Michael, or when someone sees your binder in the locker room and tells everyone about how the new guy has boobs. I knew going in that I wouldn’t make friends, and I’d made my peace with that. But when the school year ended and I got bored enough, I downloaded an app designed to make friends. The only other guy my age on the app was the dorky-looking dude who now had become my best friend slash designated driver.
When we passed the sign welcoming us to Pondsville, there was a gold Range Rover parked just behind it, staring out into traffic. Ethan nudged me.
“That’s their calling card. Is it legal for them to watch everyone coming and going in town?” He mused aloud.
“Probably, or they wouldn’t be so blatant,” I replied. “There probably isn’t even anyone in the car. They just want people to know that they’re always watching.”
I had been trying to calm Ethan’s nerves, but I only succeeded in sending myself down a spiral of self-doubt. What were we looking for? What would we do when we found it? Ethan broke my silence.
“Is there anywhere specific you wanted to go? We could try one of their shops, but I doubt the owners are in much.”
As he said this, we passed a stone fence that had at one point been beautiful. The gate was metal, intricately braided and covered in rust. The doors were open, and lead down a dirt path in the forest.
I told Ethan to turn around, and we proceeded through the ancient gate and down the pathway. His truck groaned with each bump in the road, but we continued on. When we got to an obviously man-made clearing with no clear dirt paths, Ethan turned to me.
“Are you sure you want to do this dude? No shame in chickening out,” He said.
“Are you scared?” I asked.
With that, he parked the car, and we both got out to search on foot.
“Maybe we should’ve parked by the road and walked back here,” I mused, realizing now that any cover we may have had would be blown by the truck.
It was too late, though. We moved forward into the wood, not following any particular trail. At one point I thought I heard very distant yelling, but it stopped and I heard nothing after that.
The Florida air hung thick with summer heat and humidity. It felt like walking through a steam room, but with vines clinging to your feet and hair. Still, the woods were beautiful. Green and quiet, untouched by mankind. We walked for what I estimated to be about twenty minutes before I began to realize the absolute lunacy of our plan. How would we find the car again? Better late than never, I took out my small pocket knife and started carving X’s on trees every five feet, so when we decided to head back I’d know we were going in the right direction.
The woods were quiet enough that when we heard twigs snapping, both me and Ethan immediately looked up. In the distance ahead of us was a woman, running towards us. I felt my hand shoot to my pocket and saw Ethan do the same. Something looked wrong about how she ran. Her run was more of a flail, a desperate scramble to move forward. Her eyes were frantic and shifted back and forth between Ethan and I.
She had long pitch black hair and was wearing a yellow sundress. As we got closer, she made something resembling a scream. It was incoherent, and as I looked closer I realized why - she had no tongue. It had been carved out, seemingly some time ago as the wound did not look bloody. She bolted towards Ethan, and with a nervous yelp, he whipped out his pocket knife and stabbed her in the shoulder.
She screamed again and fell to the ground in pain. Blood spurted from the fresh wound and onto the forest floor.
“Holy shit… holy shit,” Ethan screamed. “Why did she run at me like that?”
She was clearly unarmed, and now that the pain had worn off she was crawling away from us, using her one good arm for support. Ethan and I both ran in the direction she had come from, and when we came to a wooden bridge we both paused. Beyond the bridge, at the top of a hill was a modern penthouse. It was enormous, and would obviously be well guarded.
“Dude. What the fuck are we doing?” I asked him. “We’re not really going to break into someone’s house, right? C’mon, let’s go home.”
“And catch up with the crazy bitch who tried to kill me? Absolutely not. Let’s just…pretend we’re new recruits?”
“That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” I said. “They’ll ask who recruited us.”
“Nah dude, they’ll just be happy for new members. Besides, I’ve still got the car keys. If you don’t come with me, I could always just leave you here.” The way he said it sounded like a threat rather than a joke, and it struck me that I had met this man three months ago on the internet. So much for all those internet safety PSAs we’d had growing up.
“I guess. But you’re taking the lead,” I said, and began to walk across the wooden bridge that led to the steps of the vast house.
Behind the large wooden doors was a warmly lit lobby with a kind-looking woman wearing a yellow blouse sitting behind a desk. She smiled warmly at us.
“Hello, boys! Welcome to the Church of the People’s Golden Ministry! How can I help you today?” She asked patiently.
“We…we’re new recruits. We want to join the church,” Ethan said awkwardly.
Her smile grew bigger.
“That’s fantastic to hear! You’ll both be given a personality test and a personal tour of the church. These tours are a spiritual experience within themselves and must be performed alone. Do I have any volunteers to go first?”
Neither of us spoke. I had a lump in my throat and was thoroughly shocked that our bad lie had worked. The receptionist must have picked up on our nervousness, right? She didn’t seem to. The silence didn’t seem to concern her at all, and she patiently waited for us to speak.
Turning back to look at Ethan was a mistake. He was so pale, still clearly shaken from the woman in the woods. I decided to do the right thing for my friend, if not just to end the uncomfortable silence.
“I’ll go first,” I said.
“Perfect! You can follow me. Your friend will wait in the lobby until it is his turn for the tour.”
It was very strange how eager she seemed to be to separate us, but I assumed that was just how cults operated. It was easier to make rash decisions alone, and I’m sure the ministry knew that. As she walked me down a long, brightly lit corridor, the woman began to speak.
“The church was first founded in 1980 by James Golding and his wife Marissa. While traveling in California spreading the gospel, they came across a company that said they helped people reach enlightenment. James and Marissa were curious and went to what is now known as the first float center. Do you know what that is, Michael?”
I was starting to feel dizzy. Had I given her my name? Maybe there was a sign-in sheet that I couldn’t remember. We’d been traveling so long through the woods that the whole day felt like a blur.
“It’s a room where people go to experience sensory deprivation,” she replied, taking my silence as a non-answer. “James and Marissa went into a sensory deprivation chamber, and through that experience, they were able to speak with God. God gave them a plan, to come here and create this church, Michael. They had to make the ultimate sacrifice.”
At this point, we were standing in the doorway of a room. She unlocked it and opened the door, leading me in. It was dark except for a purple light within an egg-shaped pod. The rest of the room contained nothing but a shower and towel rack.
“Today before joining the church, you will do as James and Marissa have done. You will enter the sensory deprivation tank and you will meet God. This experience will last for one hour. We ask that you shower before and after, and use the towels when done. I’ll knock three times on the door of the pod when your time is up.” She said.
This was…doable. I was curious about the church and was now getting a full tour and spa treatment. What had I been afraid of before? I stripped, took a short cold shower to scrub the remnants of the forest off of me, and approached the tank. It smelled strongly of salt.
Before I could overthink it and psych myself out, I put one foot into the water. It was so perfectly warm that I lost feeling in my foot, completely, comfortably numb. I pulled myself into the water, reached out one arm, and shut the pod door. I almost immediately regretted it.
The purple light shut off, and I was in complete, still, blackness. There was no line between skin and water, no difference between eyes open or shut. There was not a single sound. I felt an odd sense of claustrophobia as I realized that it would be hard to find the handle in the dark if something were to go wrong. After the kid closed I realized that this was very reminiscent of a coffin.
As soon as I thought it, I could swear I felt something under me. Something gently rocked the water back and forth. It would’ve matched my own breathing pattern, had my breathing not been sped by the fear of whatever was underneath me. It was slow and steady, nearly beating. Hadn’t it been an hour already? Why on earth had I allowed this to be done to me? The woman in the lobby was just so convincing, so adamant in her belief. I craved that conviction in my own beliefs. And now I was stuck in a giant metal egg on top of what I assumed to be whatever they had called God, breathing lightly.
I realized that if I let this panic I felt sink into the water, the vibrations from the breathing were rather calming. It felt like some kind of pre-birth memory of being tucked next to my mother’s lungs. I felt a great deal of pain leave my body, allowing myself to forget my past and breathe with God all around me. It truly was a religious experience. I felt everything in my body numb and match itself to the water, letting it and I become one. I didn’t care if it had been an hour. I didn’t care if I’d been in the tank for days. I was safe and free and happy, under the protection of God.
And then, all too soon, came the three taps on the lid. The purple light turned back on, and I lifted the handle and freed myself. I felt no sorrow leaving the sensory deprivation tank - I was part of the church now, and I knew I could return when I needed.
I showered, scrubbing the salt from my skin and toweling off before putting my clothes back on. I had never felt more sure of anything than I was in the relief I felt to be in this place.
The receptionist met me at the door. She saw my changed expression, my all too relaxed gaze. She smiled, knowing that I had met with God just as she had. As we began walking down the hallway again, she spoke to me.
“After meeting God, James and Melissa knew what they had to do. They began the pursuit of utter senselessness so that they could become prophets and communicate God’s word to mankind. But people doubted them, Michael. Without experiencing it themselves, people took the Goldings for false prophets.”
At the end of the hallway was the church. The ceiling was entirely made of glass, with large windows to the lawn and to a neatly tended indoor garden on either side. Rows and rows of pews filled the room, pointed towards a lectern where sermons would be held. Within the pews sat dozens of people wearing yellow, in every shade. It was glorious.
The woman sat me at a pew to continue softly talking.
“James and Melissa knew that they themselves were not meant to be prophets. They were meant to be leaders. They realized that the best way to have a constant communication with God would be to have members of their congregation permanently experiencing sensory deprivation. It saddened them knowing they would not be able to receive the honor, but they knew they could not run the church in such a state.”
“C-constant deprivation?” I asked. “How would that…work?”
“It’s a painful process,” she admitted. “One that usually takes months, if not years to complete. Mistakes can be made sometimes, when…certain senses are involved. Such as touch. Or sight. Certain things must be…reworked, or altogether removed.”
I remembered the tongueless woman shambling forward in the woods, clearly unable to control her actions. Had the people in the pews always had so many canes among them?
“But the risk is worth the reward, as those blessed few can nurture their relationship with the lord at all times in a state of constant prayer.”
I don’t know if she saw my face whiten, or my shifting gaze, but she grabbed onto my hand.
“Those people are practically one with God themselves, Michael. They are revered. They are the pillars of our community. Would you like to meet one of them?”
I don’t know what came out of my mouth. Something between a nervous laugh and a squeal. I got up from the pew and approached the doorway. I couldn’t believe I had almost gone with them, almost given my senses up.
I pushed through the delicate glass door and back into the hallway, running back to the lobby to find Ethan waiting in a chair.
“C’mon dude, we’ve got to go!” I shouted at him, rushing to the sturdy wooden door.
He stood, and I turned the handle. It did not open. I tried again, and again. When he looked up at me, Ethan was sad.
“Did you not like the tour?” He asked quietly.
My eyes narrowed as I realized that he wasn’t helping me attempt to leave. I stopped.
“You brought me here on purpose,” I realized with a defeated sigh. “I’m some kind of sacrifice to your God.”
“Of course not!” He practically shouted. “We don’t sacrifice anyone. Even the people chosen to speak to God aren’t a sacrifice, they’re in a state of constant bliss. I brought you here to save you, dude.”
I was repulsed, disgusted by the sincerity that he had said that with. But I looked into his eyes and began to form a plan.
“Thank you, man,” I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. “Thank you for saving me.”
I took my hands off the door and approached him, intending to hug him. He grinned and welcomed me into his arms.
“We can hang out every day, we can become like brothers.” He whispered as I fished for the key to his truck as gently as I could in his back pocket.
The plan was to tell him that I wanted to meet the elders, and as soon as I found any exit to make my escape. What happened was that, at that moment, the receptionist came back into the room to see me, still hugging Ethan but very clearly stealing his keys.
“Thief!” She cried as she lunged toward me, attempting to keep me from stealing the keys, but my grip was firm. I tucked them into my front pocket and bolted down the hallway, leaving Ethan looking stunned and the woman chasing after me.
As I came into the church, I ran through the pews to the window overlooking the lawn. I snatched a cane from one of the congregation who I assumed were on their way to becoming an elder, and smashed the glass of the window. I leaped through, breaking into the clearing, surrounded by glittering shards of broken glass. I hit the ground running, and as I ran I turned back to see Ethan and the woman, staring after me, still in the church.
The X’s I had made came in handy, and when they ran out I followed the trail of blood that had been left by the woman whom Ethan had stabbed. I was nearly to the entrance by the time I found her.
She was cold, and still, but still alive from what I could tell. She’d lost a lot of blood, and I now understood that her spinal cord had most likely been severed, in an attempt to give her complete absence of her sense of touch. I wretched and nearly vomited, but kept sturdy enough to call the police. I had no address to give them, but when I mentioned the broken gate I was sure they knew what I meant.
I hopped into Ethan’s truck and began the hour-long drive home. When I passed the welcome sign, the gold Range Rover had disappeared.
About ten minutes into the drive, so far away I could barely see it, was a gold car. I felt paranoid, but I pulled over at a gas station to let it pass me. As I waited, I’ve been typing this. The car still hasn’t passed. I think they saw me pull off and are waiting until I start driving again.
If I go home, they’ll find me and my family. If I stay at this gas station, they’ll come looking. I don’t know where I could go that they couldn’t see me, where they couldn’t eventually reach me.
I need help, and I need it fast. So, Reddit. Any ideas on how to hide from a cult?