Final Sacrifice [HHWC]

Death was finally close enough to touch, to smell. But she wasn’t quite dead yet. The sights and sounds...exactly what I had hoped for! I was always fascinated by the noises that came out of desperate creatures breathing their last.

Today, for my son’s Twelfth, the Gift of Eternal Mortal Threat shall be his. It was time, time for him to know of the severe consequences of Final Disobedience. It is our way, the Way of the Family.

This anideer, this sacrifice of the moment, who had given up her flesh for men to eat, had spoken Truth to me before. It would now speak to my son more eloquently, and far more honestly than anything I could say. She would be our Bread today, as the Scriptures said, but she would also Teach my son, for a lifetime.

I put the gun to his head…

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One Must Die for the Many…

As in ages past, the Family has always taken this dictum seriously. True, no one today actually believed that the sun would fail to rise, but the tradition had to go on. Some said that it was the only way Justice could be appeased, and it was hard to argue that there was little justice in the world. Somewhere, somehow, the scales needed to balance out, and if we lived, then certainly someone must die. And the gods were in fact quite generous to allow that only one of the Noble clan should be offered to them every three years, while millions lived.

Such were the thoughts that went through the minds of the happy and grateful people who came to participate in the great Trini-Annual Sacrifice. I honestly still had trouble seeing it from the point of view of the Chosen, and his family, but there were many compensations, and certainly someone had to be the Victim, when all, we were told, were so full of iniquity, and so displeasing to the gods.

Over a hundred noble boys from my son’s class were now in line. Gowned up, heavy swords hanging proudly, they reminded me of how our ancient warriors looked in old paintings. Only one was not among them, but did any of them even notice? Soon they would enter the Sanctuary Circle, and approach the Altar. There, they would find their classmate, who they hadn’t seen in several months. They had been told that he was ill, and truly he was; sick with the burden of Sin that he had to bear for his Family. But since cruelty was not our way, he had been spared such knowledge, and instead had been treated to the Trini-Month of Joy. Truly, our holy religion was one of beneficence, reason, and consolations!

As the boys entered the Chamber, singing the triumphant Song of the Warriors, I remembered not so long ago when I too was singing joyfully, somehow imagining we were going in to a great Feast, with all our gifts, and perhaps other surprises too…

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The darkness inside would make it impossible to see, but all would hold one hand to the circular rail in front of them as they came around, and fell into their places, middle finger of their left hand finding the notch designating their Fate. Their other hand would rest upon the shoulder of the one immediately to their right. The spacing would be tighter now, not much room these days. I remembered that our smaller group had to stretch out our arms, but there would be no need for that now.

The cool wet musty air of so many ages past will fill their nostrils, along with the mystical odor of Holy Incense. Deep within this most sacred and ancient of temples, their eyes would begin to adjust to the dim light. In the center, the Slab, and on it, Isaac Jahnson, tied up, and gagged, although no one would be able to see exactly who it was in the darkness. Off to one side would be the Supreme Obedient, Isaac’s father, dressed in his ceremonial garb, tall hat making the small man look like a giant. To the other side, the impossibly ancient High Priest, with his imposing headdress, his hat almost as wide as the fat man himself. If anything, he is even fatter than I remembered.

While I would not now see exactly what they did this day, I remembered my Coming of Age, my Gift, and remembered the shock, the surprise of a different nature that I had not anticipated. Out of the many small details I would never forget, one thing came back to me the most. It was the look in the eyes of the Supreme Obedient. For me, it was a look that I had seen in my own proud father’s eyes, and it still made me shudder to think of it.

Did I have that look too? Who was I trying to kid...No. Deep inside I knew I had missed out on whatever this was really about. I was never a true Warrior, and just thanked the good gods I had never been revealed for the coward I was. True, I had discharged my Duty, I had put the gun to my son’s head, and I know he truly believed he would die. I played my part. He is prepared for today, three years of preparations. He was the best in his class in Knives, and was the first to earn his Sash. He is ready.

About now, each will have to resist the urge to look at the boy next to him. Each will be thinking, “Are they all as shocked as I am?” And directly across, faces within the circle that still cannot be made out in the dark light of so few candles, all precisely by design. Each must stand alone, as do we all, when faced with our own Death…

If nothing has changed (how could it?), the Supreme Obedient will take the ancient Dagger, and he will place it on the Wheel. It will spin, and stop, pointing to one of the twelve ancient signs. On the rail, above the notch, the corresponding runes. For all those who had attained the Sash, these symbols could be read with the finger, for indeed the same was to be found upon their swords. It was said that only One would find that his symbol matched.

Suddenly, I realized that I had not remembered correctly! Shortly, the boys would emerge. All...but one! How is it that I had forgotten? What kind of tricks did the priests work on me - on all of us - so that we might forget? I looked around at the other noble fathers, many who were my friends, I had known most for many years. Winstan, Appelvez, Cato...Am I imagining all this? What about Benning? Our eyes met. Something is going on with him too!

“All but one…” What was his name? My memory of that day, could I even trust it? His name...it was...Damn it! I can’t remember! No, I couldn’t remember a name (perhaps a face?), but in spite of not being able to put my finger on what had happened, a dread began to build inside me, and it came to this: Was my boy coming out, or not?

I looked over at Benning again, mired in the large crowd...He must remember! I’ve got to talk to him...but there’s no time!

to be continued...
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Within the Temple of the Rising Sun

David’s eyes still couldn’t see very far in the smoky darkness, but the Dagger had come to a stop. The Supreme Obedient announced the symbol, and instructed all those who did not find it on the rail in front of them, to leave. David’s finger moved up to feel his symbol. It was the same! Even more intriguing was the fact that this was his Sword-Symbol too. Both boys on either side departed, joining most of the others, as they were instructed to quietly leave the way they had come. Of course, they would be back, but what was happening now? After they had left, David had the feeling that only a few other boys remained.

The Supreme Obedient spoke again, “Now, unless this symbol is also your SS, you may now leave, and join the others.”

David was very excited, but he felt apprehension as well. Suddenly, for no apparent reason at all, he began thinking about the Gift. His apprehension was turning to fear as the shuffling sounds of feet disappeared behind him. He was now alone, with these giants, and with...with someone on the Slab...His eyes were straining past the tall and wide figures, trying to make out what looked strangely familiar.

“You are alone. You are the One.” David stood still, eyes still straining, when he suddenly recognized his former classmate Isaac on the Slab! Instantly, the voice he heard was also recognized, it was most certainly Isaac’s father, Mr. Jahnson! Confusion griped him. Why was he here? What on earth was going on?

The voice continued, “You, David VinRoss, are the One Fate has called today.” Suddenly, the rail in front of him dropped. “Step forward...”

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“As in the days of Old, as it is now, and as it ever shall be: One must always die for the Many. Great mercy has been shown by the Gods these past years, and in justice, They demand a sacrifice. But this Sacrifice cannot be complete, without a victim. This Victim shall be the people’s representative before the Gods for the trini-year to come! Oh what an honor to have been Chosen! There is no greater honor than to have been chosen to be part of the Trinity of Submission. As we know, this ancient and sacred ritual was prescribed by the Gods Themselves, and can admit no change, without risking Eternal Torments for those that dare to disobey.”

David stood before the High Priest, and the Supreme Obedient, listening reverently, but the fear inside him continued to grow. He looked at the pathetic figure on the slab. Certainly, he must be drugged, he hasn’t made a sound. Or was he dead? At that very moment, David saw, or perhaps sensed movement on the slab. In the darkness, he wasn’t absolutely sure, but he was happy to put aside the idea that Isaac Jahnson was dead.

Of course...It was all starting to make sense! The Gift. Sure, scare the crap out of everyone, let them feel the dread, the impending doom. David bitterly recalled that day, three years before, the day his father put the gun to his head. He was convinced his father was going to kill him, and smarted at the feelings of betrayal that still remained. But obviously, no one really died as they came Of Age! The religion of the Family was one of much symbolism and ritual, but it was also one of reason.

“Kneel. You David, noble servant of the Gods, have been chosen by Them to dispatch the Representative that They now await. As we bow before the Eternal Deities, let us ask Them to help us carry out our duties, as They see fit. Let Them guide our hands. Let Them Possess our hearts and minds…”

Somewhere beyond the Chamber, the holy monks somberly chanted the ancient ritual prayers. Time seemed to be slowing down, David even thought for a moment that perhaps he had gone back in time. Behind the echo of their steady low voices, soft drums beat, and the occasional intonation of a large bell or gong, interspersed the otherwise constant hum of the Chant. The sound seemed to come from above, and below, from everywhere at once. As well it could, with all the dark passages and sacred chambers in this holiest of Temples, they might be surrounded by a legion of monks, for all David knew.

David knelt and repeated the prescribed prayer, “Take me oh mighty Gods, and do with me what Thou wilt! Come to me, oh mighty Gods, and possess Thy humble servant…” Thrice he chanted the sacred formula. Between each repetition, he inhaled deeply, as the Holy Smoke from the Sacred Pipe filled his being.

Next, he drank the Holy Wine from the Sacred Goblet, that very same Cup that had held the Blood of the Holy Queen Mirangela, all those centuries ago.

Suddenly, a surge of energy or power, went through his body. He was fully aware, and yet he had the odd feeling he was observing himself from behind. He saw his arms raised in praise, and yet he had not raised them. Did he now also see the Holy Queen Herself appear above them, golden robes flying, fearful red eyes penetrating his soul? What was happening!?

The Supreme Obedient slowly stepped aside, his head seemed to droop. In slow-motion, he pointed now to the Victim, his son. The rasping low voice of the High Priest jarred David, and yet the David he saw was steady. “The Gods can brook no delay…Possess thy servant...NOW!”

David saw himself rise, and draw his sword. What was happening, why was he unable to control himself? My gods! This was real! David stood over the Victim who now finally began to make a very small noise. A weak whimper perhaps, a most pathetic sound. But the Victim hardly moved, he was most certainly drugged.

The realization was breaking over him now. This was not merely a front-row seat to the Dispatch of the Victim, but David was himself the Dispatcher!

It was very disconcerting not having control over himself, and seeing the many strange things made him feel like he might be dreaming. Was this a dream? Was he surrounded by dark shadows, or was it that Dark Shadows had come to enjoy this macabre show? Perhaps he had been drugged too? Either way, what he was now feeling was great fear, and yet still he was touched with pity as he contemplated his victim. He couldn’t help but think: This could just as easily have been me! And Jahnson’s father! Would my own father allow me to die...to die this way?

Suddenly, a loud scream broke the silence, and shattered his contemplation. Young Jahnson’s severed hand! David saw himself step back, as the Supreme Obedient stepped forward. The gag had accidentally come out of the Victim’s mouth, and was firmly replaced. Then, the stump was bandaged as quickly as possible, the High Priest doing his part, holding the violated stump steady, as the boy’s father wrapped the bandage around.

A step back, and then it was the sword-wielding demon’s turn to step forward again. A severed foot flew off violently. Poor Isaac Jahnson writhed, but the dance continued, his father stepping forward to stop the torrent of blood that threatened to prematurely end this monstrous ritual. Another hand, another foot, a piece of an arm, a leg...how was he still conscious? David was beginning to suspect that whatever brew of drugs Jahnson had been given, was not necessarily there to mitigate his pain…

David’s brain was on fire...This was so wrong! Had this horror of horrors really gone on for a thousand years? Is this what was at the center of the beauty and joy of the Holidays? David wanted to stop the whole thing. He was getting angry. Very angry! He was hating intensely everything that crossed his mind. He hated his parents, his friends...even the gods! But as he realized all this, he knew that the biggest hate was growing by the minute, and that giant black hatred, was for his own loathsome self.

The Victim had now been reduced to a body, with four short stumps. The gruesome dance had shifted to include pungent chemical inhalants to keep the Victim conscious, in spite of all. David also inhaled, deeply. Was it just his imagination, or was he no longer the helpless observer? He felt the heavy sword in his hand. He moved it to the left, and now to the right. Yes! He was doing this. He could even feel the wet stickiness of the blood on his hands. Mr. Jahnson stepped back again. The demon’s turn now.

David stared down at his classmate, he had never seen such a miserable sight. The trembling Victim, the wet eyes, the pathetic “posture”, if you could even call it that. Poor Isaac! He was clearly wondering what was next for him. Oh gods! Where would the next painful blow land? When will this insane horror end already? He must have prayed it would be swift, but today, the Gods were not so merciful. Everyone seemed to know that this would last just as long as inhumanly possible. And yet, as David looked briefly into those wet eyes, he read the boy’s mind perfectly: “Mercy, oh please...mercy!”

to be continued...

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Red.

Redness everywhere...perhaps the light in the Chamber had improved. No small detail of the Victim’s intense suffering was hidden anymore by the former darkness. Somehow, it wouldn’t have surprised David if the damnable priests were somewhere taping the whole ordeal! His anger was reaching a crescendo, but another force within him was now pushing forward again. He didn’t know how, but he “knew” in some way that the next cut was to be quite painful. No arms, or legs, but between where the legs used to be, quite a tender target. A battle raged inside him. He looked briefly at the face of Mr. Jahnson...Ah yes, a battle raging there too!

The High Priest spoke at last: “Put thy sword back into it’s sheath, you have done well.”

Another shock! Entirely unexpected. David immediately complied, sweet relief washing over him. It is done…Or was it? The High Priest was not yet finished.

“Take ye now the Sacred Dagger. The Victim’s suffering is not yet complete, and his Cup of Torment must be full, before he can go to the Gods, else he shall not be deemed worthy to stand in Their Presence. Complete ye now the sacred Duty that Fate has appointed unto you.”

The Dagger. This was the very same Dagger that the people had revered for over a thousand years! It was this Dagger that plunged into the evil King Assolas, ending his cruel persecution of the Family. It had been captured in wartime, but according to Tradition, could never be recaptured by the enemy. The Dagger always awaited the eventual and sure triumph of the Family, no matter what. And now David knew that in that thousand years, hundreds of noble Family boys had also been claimed by this holy Instrument of the Gods.

Feeling overwhelmed by the events unfolding before him, by a thousand years of history and tradition, by the heavy weight of his responsibility, David suddenly felt weak. But his anger had not yet been quenched, and now he was fighting a severe temptation to…

Kill everything in sight!

The Dagger hovered over the boy’s most vulnerable parts. No, it was clear the Victim had not yet considered this obvious next step. Another level of horror, yet another brutality to be meted out upon him, but somehow, even though his situation was hopeless, hope continued to cloud the Victim’s tormented mind, even as blood splatters now clouded his eyes. Why was this? What was it the Poet had said, centuries ago? “Hope Springs Eternal…”

David again read his victim’s mind: “Mercy! Please, stop...Oh Gods, no more!”

Two bandaged stubs weakly flailed toward the impending threat. Too short now to offer protection, too weak to even bat the Dagger away. It was perhaps the most pathetic sight David had ever beheld, and only the sound that accompanied that nightmarish vision could have been considered worse.

At that moment, David felt a powerful rush through his whole body, and his mind was suddenly aware...of Everything! And Everything had slowed way down. He looked out upon a world in slow-motion. It seemed as if he could simply stand there forever, observing the Moment, the Now, and the All. And the All had come to a halt, as if awaiting...his Decision.

Decision. It was HIS decision!

In the very same instant, he realized that he had already made it.

He gripped the Dagger in his left hand tightly. As his hand rose up to strike the blow, his right hand simultaneously drew his sword. A blade in each hand, one for each of his victims!

The Dagger was deep in Mr. Jahnson’s gut before he even realized what had happened. The High Priest managed to take a single step back, but it wasn’t enough. Even his ceremonial breast-plates failed to protect him, as the sword went high, and pierced his fat old neck, right through the immense white beard!

In the next second, he returned to the Dagger, it’s job was not yet done. And then, back to the sword, this time most fittingly thrusting it into the priest’s groin, again, just missing the ceremonial metal plates as the blade thrust low. The thought flickered across David’s mind that those breast plates were intended to serve as more than just a ceremonial purpose.

Groans and guttural sounds from both the wounded, and a most unseemly vile curse from the dying priest. For a moment David imagined that it was the evil demon’s voice that had vomited forth from that fat old face. But still he did not pause, continuing back, and forth, blood everywhere, his formerly white gown now crimson.

Finally, he stopped, out of breath, suddenly feeling weak again. He stood and stared as Mr. Jahnson raised a trembling hand up to his son. He lay almost on the ground, but one arm was raised to the Slab. For a moment, the father’s bloody fingers touched a bandaged stump that had come down to touch Family, one last time.

There were tears in David’s eyes now, and all the rage was gone. He watched as a lifeless hand dropped.

On the Slab lay the Victim, and yet, he was not a victim just yet! David dropped his sword, and All was just as clear as it had always been. What he had done, what he was doing, and what he was about to do. All was One.

He picked up what was left of Isaac, and carried him out of the Temple chamber, out through those enormous doors, his eyes squinting as together they emerged into the bright sunlight.

The large crowd outside slowly fell silent, as the grizzly sight unfolded before them. People were pointing, noble ladies were gasping. Children stood with their hands over their mouths. Confusion was everywhere, no one seemed to know what was happening.

David gently set Isaac down, and stood there. His eyes adjusted, and he could now see the Temple Guards heading in his direction. They had left their charges, David’s hundred-odd classmates, to deal with this new and unprecedented threat. Behind them, a small mob of priests, apparently fully aware of what was going on, urged their Guards to violence with hysterical screams. No doubt, not a few were shocked at the most unpriestly demeanor they were witness to that day.

David was ready. They would take him away, and he would surely be executed for his crimes, but he didn’t care. What did he care about?

Isaac! The boy badly needed medical attention, and David knew right then, that he would have gladly taken his victim’s place, if it were at all possible. Yes, they would both be dead soon. David imagined how easy it would be for the Temple Guards to shove them both back into that tomb-of-a-temple, to finish them off. Later they would spin the story into something plausible, an unfortunate “accident” or some such thing.

The Guards arrived. David just stared into their eyes. Perhaps they hadn’t expected to see tears fresh on this face, washing the splatters around his blood-shot eyes, two streams down his cheeks. A moment of uncertainty...

As if on cue, the sound of a hundred warriors erupted from behind, and the Guards turned to see David’s classmates, swords drawn as they ran, chilling battle-cry in the air!

He remembered now, HE was in charge here! The Guards, momentarily at a loss for what to do next, turned back to look at David. The tears were now gone, and only fire remained in his piercing blue eyes. He held their gaze with an authority he could almost feel, coursing through him, and out of him. He was silent, but his hand pointed solemnly down at poor Isaac. The Guards looked at each other. David then spoke, “Let’s get him to the hospital.”

to be continued...

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And so it came to pass, that the ancient Sacrifice was no more, and the Great King David ascended his throne. The priests unanimously declared that David had been The One that had been foretold long ago, and his glorious reign, thanks be to Gods, lasted many years.

And the sun still rose each day, even without the Sacrifice.

As for the Family’s traditions, well the infidel likes to say that they have changed, but we all know that this can never be so. As the Great King David explained, it was WE who were changed that day, the Day of Final Sacrifice.

Nothing has been forgotten. All Is, as It Was, and as It ever shall be.

Amen.

reply to post by JR MacBeth


You've created a fascinating world here, full of strange rites and beliefs - one that makes the imagination run wild as to the horrors that might take place in such a universe. Or is really imaginary? I wonder if such societies still exist today. Whatever the case, the mood of this story definitely fits the tradition of Halloween. Your tale was well-written and inspired.

reply to post by Flatwoods


I sure appreciate your feedback, thank you so much!

I actually think you may be right about a dark side to our own world, that may resemble "fiction" in many ways, and yet there is a reality to it that is not always recognized. From my small research into the occult, and some of the apparent practices of the elite, there is evidence that does seem to suggest human sacrifice continues today.

There is of course a very long "tradition" of human sacrifice, in many cultures around the globe. From Molech in the Bible, to the Roman Coliseum, to the Aztec Empire, it does seem that human life, in various ways, has been sacrificed, for lots of reasons, perhaps many times with "noble" motives (at least more noble than for the mere sake of entertainment).

Considering today's tradition of more or less "expedient", or utilitarian human sacrifice, from World Wars, to 9/11 perhaps, it can be discouraging to contemplate how little things seem to really change.

Again, my sincere thanks to you for your comments, and insightful observation.

JR