This post originally appeared in VICE UK
I don’t like Halloween. I never really have. So at the end of last month—with October 31 and its accompanying monotony of drunk, bleeding faces fast approaching—I figured I should try to coax some enjoyment out of the experience for the first time in my life. The best way to do that, I decided, was to spend the evening with a Satanist.
While media coverage of Satanism tends to err on the horse-mutilation side of things, my Satanist friend Phil Mawson—who, granted, does work at a butcher shop—actually prefers devoting his time to revising the work of Anton LaVey, author of the Satanic Bible and founder of the Church of Satan. Still, I couldn’t help treading a little nervously as I approached the door of his crypt, a bungalow in Cornwall, England.