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The Coven

Stan Hudson put the powder down on his dressing table and looked at himself in the mirror. His white face, dark eye shadow and blood red lips were applied perfectly. The deep green contact lenses he purchased added the perfect touch. As the leader of a new chapter, he had to look the part if he wanted to gain the respect of its' members.

He picked up his black cloak, hung it over his shoulders, and clasped the medallion at his throat to secure the garment. His black to blonde streaked hair worked well with this new look and under the black lights of the coven, it would look even better. He knew he could pull this off; he had to.
A noise at his feet grabbed his attention and he looked down to find a half grown white kitten rubbing against his leg. He picked it up and just before reaching the doorway, he held the kitten up in front of his face.
"What am I going to do with you, little one? How did you manage to be so white when your parents are both pure black? I guess you're just a little freak like me, eh?" Stan held the kitten to his chest and rubbed its' neck while heading into the kitchen, where he fed his brood of hungry felines.
At the back of Stan's old Victorian house was a doorway that led into a large cellar. It was the perfect place to create a new coven. He had a huge stone alter put at one end and several stone benches scattered around the perimeter. In the center of the floor was a mosaic made from clay tiles shaped exactly like the medallion that held his cloak. No expense was spared to create the perfect backdrop for this sting.
Stan slipped through a secret passage that led to a small opening just behind the alter. He waited until the designated time, then made his entrance.
"All hail our true master and may he rule forever." The greeting was said in unison by all members as Stan made his way to the alter and raised his hands in the air.
"Greetings, my servants. Please be seated and we will begin this meeting." With this said, some fifteen or so gray robed and hooded men sat on the benches. Stan looked out over his followers. Not a face could be seen beneath their large hoods and mesh veils, making him realize for the first time that he hadn't a clue who any of them were. For the first time since joining the cult, he was nervous. He couldn't help but wonder how many could recognize him under his heavily applied make-up. Up until now, he also had his hood to hide his identity.

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