A Night on Bald Mountain
The darkness carried with it a ghostly silence on this most wicked of nights. Grey mist slithered and slinked through the village below Bald Mountain. High atop the mountain, on the very peak, a black entity was about to awaken.
Large bat wings unfolded, revealing from within them the terrible, horned, black beast, Chernabog. The mighty beast spread his enormous demons wings with his arms folded across his broad chest. His horrid face gazed over the mountain into the blackened horizon, and then slowly fell over the quiet village far below. Without a moment's pause, he raised his powerful arms and lowered them over the village, casting it in great shadows that stretched and shrouded the buildings and houses in darkness.
From these evil shadows, the restless spirits of the village were summoned and rose from their dwellings, ascending to the peak of Bald Mountain. From the gallows, the ghosts of hung criminals passed through the noose for a second time as they followed the others on their drift to the mountaintop. The shadows of the beast's arms crept further still to the town cemetery where more specters slipped from their grim resting places and up into the pitch blackness. Maidens, men, horses, demons, ghouls, all of them were brought closer and closer to the summit where Chernabog beckoned them. Each of them being summoned willingly under his spell to entertain him in whatever way he so desired.
Soon, many a ghoul and unkempt soul swirled round the massive black beast. It laughed a low, growling laugh in enjoyment. Here and there he spotted imps, goblins and other terrible demons as they climbed to the peak. They gathered around the great pit where the fires of the mountain roared magnificently to the beast's liking. Chernabog watched with amusement while they and the spirits danced furiously for him. Then he reached for the ground and grasped a number of demons into his hands. Many others tried desperately to climb upon them so to not be ignored, but those he held on to, he lifted to his fiendish, yellow eyes. He gazed as they danced for him, reaching for him, hopelessly under his control. For a moment or two, the beast continued to watch them with his wicked grin, and then frowned in disdain as he released them and doomed them to the fiery pit below.
The remaining creatures took no care or notice of this, sustaining their eternal dance. Chernabog then dips his hand into the pit and picks three small flames. He lets them flicker on his palm before gently wafting his free hand over them and shifting their shapes to resemble three elegant maids. They moved gracefully and sensually for him. And then, simply to his pleasure, he turned them to deranged animals, and then again to blue demons. Chernabog turns over his hand so to slip them in the inferno, but they stumble and struggle to maintain their footholds. Scowling, Chernabog merely grips them in his hand and lowers them into the fires until they finally burn. He laughs again, this time with more gusto.
The furious dancing carried on, and the great black demon grinned maliciously. His minions now became more frantic and chaotic. Harpies swooped up the feral creatures and tossed them in the fiery pit. The flames raged wildly with every other demon that fell within while those that remained were still circled round the mountaintop in an ever-persistent, uncontrollable masquerade for their master.
Chernabog was about to more careless, ruthless things to his minions, readying to grab hold of more of them when...
DONG
What was this? The noise was faint, sounding from a place far from the mountain. Chernabog stopped and shifted his gaze left and right, searching for quick moment for the source. He then returned to the demons below, reaching for one of them...
DONG
There it was again! Louder this time! The beast cringed at the awful sound of what he now knew to be a church bell. He frowned in the direction which he heard it, his fists clenched.
DONG!
Chernabog recoiled slightly, and placed his hand to his face in despair. And as the bell rung for a fourth and fifth time and so forth, the feral creatures on the mountain slowly retreated into the pit where the fires had been quenched. The village spirits floated away, away from Bald Mountain and back to their solemn resting places.
The mighty beast, overcome by the distant church bell, was forced to hide from the approaching dawn. With great reluctance and sorrow after such a terrible yet pleasurable night, Chernabog finally raised his wings and took shelter in them once more. There he would wait until the next night of Walpurgis.