Tuesday, May 4, 2010


Sacrifice was required. And I‘d been chosen.

Kicking and screaming, they dragged me to the mouth of the volcano. I protested, but the tribesmen were unmoved.

As we arrived, I called out one last time: Please!

They paused, to hear me out.

By its very nature, sacrifice calls for a willing subject. Otherwise it’s not sacrifice, it’s murder.

They looked at me, then each other. Then, grumbling, they led me back to the village.

When someone finally volunteers, there’ll be a feast to celebrate. I’ll be the main course.

Being killed and eaten, it turns out, does not require willingness.

No comments:

Post a Comment