By 
In the eyes of the couple, the slate-paved street of the village revealed a cornucopia of crafts, sweets and jubilant peasants. Along the noisy main street, colourful festoons hung from the balconies of typical mountain houses, made of solid stone and original woodwork. The buildings themselves, due to the abundance of decorations, seemed to curve over the long snake of stalls.
There had been an imperceptible moment of silence when the two had laid their feet on the dark pavement of the village, nothing but a quick counterpoint to underline the next wave of noise of the festival in its full becoming.
It had been enough to turn left on the path between the conifers marked by the navigator and their journey had moulted with grey scales now transformed into coloured harlequin’s diamonds.
"Fasnachat". That bizarre writing on a shaky sign had tickled their imagination.
"If Google had reported this village party we could have left two hours earlier." At her voice’s sound, Ben instinctively thought of two Dolce & Gabbana sneakers on the 100 meters starting blocks.
"A break cannot hurt us, but let's not forget about our timetable," he replied, not without a trail of scepticism in his voice.
Ben's senses captured fragrances, widened eyes and inebriated laughter. That joy was as disruptive as it was contagious.
"We do not need to remind ourselves of what it means being late for Grandma Maude's birthday dinner," he said, turning to his wife, whose hand was already wriggling from his, ready to compulsively stuff the car with the many bits and bobs offered by the fair.
Debated between the growing curiosity and the thought of his father-in-law blaming him for the delay, Ben had not even noticed that he had already lost sight of Joelle.
Like a pebble escaping the river’s current, the flow of the crowd had carried him in the middle of a small square dominated by a soaring wooden stage. An acute, strangely cacophonous, chant of stringed instruments enlivened a typical traditional group dance, where couples slapped each other’s feet and bodies.
Under the ever more pounding rhythm of the dance, among almost hypnotized and swaying villagers, his eyes increasingly focused on the show.
For a moment, he thought he saw Joelle surrounded by villagers who invited her to eat something viscidly black. The substance seemed to smear the white aprons and faces of the women, perhaps even that of Joelle who had joined them in a wild chortle. She seemed so lighthearted and it felt good. There was one thing Ben could not remember and squatted in the back of his head, but maybe it wasn’t that important.
He returned to plunge into the dance: it was simply wonderful. He felt he could not miss a movement, not even a note. He smiled at the villagers as a strange heat flared up inside him. An empty and collective smile painted back on the villagers’ gaunt faces.
In a frayed embryo of thought, Ben recorded the distant verses of Joelle, who, strangely, had fused together in a long animal bleating.
My ending
Something stirred at the edge of his mind at the bleating sound…sheep, shepherd…or maybe goats, horned goats. He’d had an impression of a horned man passing a minute ago.
The recollection snapped his mind into focus and the dance’s sway over him fell away like scales from his eyes. This was a textbook Satanic ritual, which a prepared Christian warrior like himself should have caught immediately.
A yellow text box appeared in his field of vision:
Enlightenment achieved, the spell is broken.
Good job, Truth Warrior!
Ben nodded in grim satisfaction and pushed towards his wife, but she was constantly moving as part of a chain of women wending through the dance. Attempting to catch up proved futile, as the raucous crowd constantly knocked him off course.
The situation was too serious to waste time like this. He shoved his way to his car and yanked open the trunk, smiling as he pulled out a gleaming semi-automatic rifle.
The text box reappeared, this time in red:
Weapon unlocked.
Go get ‘em, Soldier!
This time as he bulldozed through the crowd he was more successful. Any agent of evil who tried to get in his way paid dearly. With each kill a ping sounded and a shimmering number floated upwards from the crumpled body.
By the time he reached his wife, the shooting had wakened her from the spell too. She crouched down in a shivering ball as Ben faced the final monster on the wooden stage.
“In Jesus’s name,” he growled as he snapped in a fresh clip.
Even at 8 feet tall, with horns and claws, the half-demon was no match for Ben’s combination of hollow-points and a Godly Foresight charm, which activated to give him a 15% speed advantage.
When he’d dispatched the beast he reached out a hand to his wife.
“Come on, Joelle. We’ve got your Grandma’s birthday to celebrate.”
“Oh, Ben!”
She flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder as the text box announced the end of the level and totaled his score. He concentrated on Joelle’s warm body clinging tightly to him. It felt so good he waited all the way until the end of the credits to remove the headset and lift himself out of his VR chair.
Back in his house he was alone. Joelle had moved out some time ago, spouting nonsense about how they’d grown apart, that she hardly knew him anymore now that he spent all his free time “gaming,” as if simulations meant to train Elite Warriors of the Light were mere games. It had been a hard blow but Ben refused to let it deter his focus. He had to keep the bigger picture in mind.
It was Satan that had lured her away from him and only by properly equipping and training himself would he be able to get her back. He looked over to his gun case, now given pride of place in his living room along with his gaming rig. When the sign came, he’d be ready.
This story was written for 
In adding tags for this story I learned that Satan is not a valid tag. So take that, forces of evil!
Image by allinonemovie.