“You could at least try to make this look like a place of worship.” The sudden appearance of the ‘god’ had startled everyone. Well, more than started. More like terrified. Somehow, I hadn't heard the approach, or even felt it for that matter.
See, this god figure had been a story in the village for years, whispers among teens and tales told by parents to get naughty kids to behave. I never considered it was based in truth. I had heard the stories, everyone had, that the leaders of the village were secretly part of a cult, sacrificing people every full moon to the old god. It was a town joke, and now that I think of it, it was a damn smart way for the leaders to get away with it for so long; making it seem like a running joke that couldn’t possibly be based in truth.
I hadn't even remembered the conspiracy at first when I got a knock on my door nearing ten in the night. I'd assumed it was some teen messing around or a friend coming to meet me who hadn’t bothered to call first. Hell, it wasn’t even that big of a red flag to me, at the time at least, when I opened the door to see the village leaders standing there with grim looks on their old wrinkled faces. We were a close knit small town, it wasn't abnormal for neighbors to stop by unexpectedly, admittedly it wasn't usually in the middle of the night, usually for some random favor or to drop off something. Though, I did notice something was off once I saw how odd they looked, dressed in dark clothes (not the dramatic dracula-style cloaks that are expected in this type of scenario, in books at least. Though part of me wishes that were the case.) and holding lanterns. They didn't give me time to say more than a confused “how can i help you?” before letting themselves inside my home. The invasion of privacy was the least of my problems, but it upset and startled me enough for me to grumble something rather rude just loud enough for them to hear me. That seemed to be the last straw, since that was when they dropped the mysterious act and instead started to take a rope and what looked like a black pillow case from a duffle bag the oldest man had been carrying. This is when I began to actually panic, sure they were old and I was only twenty- four, but there were five of them and one of me, my chances of fighting back were slim and I'd always been the more passive aggressive (emphasis on passive) type more than an actual hands on kinda person.
The next moment was a blur, in an instant my vision was blocked by what I assume was the black pillow case over my head. And I would've shucked it off, but at the same time two of them wrapped the rope around my wrists and pulled a knot tight enough that the fibers dug into my skin with a sting of pain. I’m sure I let out a few choice words, but my memory becomes slightly fuzzy there since it was not even three seconds before something heavy and sturdy hit just above my temple and I was out like a light. The funny thing is, I never saw them carry in anything that would’ve matched what I felt. Those bastards were petty enough, or lazy enough, to use one of my own belongings to knock me out. Didn't even bring their own bludgeoning tool. Anyways, I woke up, who knows how much later, but my vision was still black and the air surrounding my head was stale and warmer than would be comfortable, I was still ‘blindfolded’. And with a tug at my wrists I could tell they hadn't bothered to loosen the rope either. I was kneeling on something hard, not smooth enough to be wood and far too hard to be carpet. I tried to call out more than once, and it took until probably my fifth try until I heard whispering coming from my right. I turned my head, as if I'd magically be able to see them through the thick black cloth. After that it all went quick, they had the heart to at least explain what was going on to me, though from how they explained everything it seemed like they truly expected me to calm down after and go along with them. To summarize what i was told, they’ve been doing this every year on the first full moon of june, not every full moon like the rumors had said but close enough, and they always picked someone that they thought would make a worthy sacrifice but also not be missed too heavily in the community. Lucky me, I fit the bill perfectly. I had a weak build so I wasn't a valued worker or anything, but I was kind of a push over to the people who surrounded me. I always believed it easier to just do it than to argue and be made to be the villain for refusing to help. I should’ve just been rude. Continuing, they told me that I was to be sacrificed to the god they knew as Faelee, they didn't say what they were supposedly the god of, but i wasn’t planning on asking. I laughed at first, almost manically. I thought this was all some group of maniacs who wanted an excuse to slit my throat, but when they all whispered “he’s coming.” in the same way a child would in a cheesy horror flick, i cant say i didnt pause. They didn't hurt me, at least not if we ignore the rope burn on my wrists and what would definitely bloom into a bruise on my temple tomorrow. If I survived that long. It was only moments after that when the loud echoing voice spoke.
I hadn’t expected anyone to actually show, and if someone did I expected them to be another maniac. And of course this voice still could be, but their-his?- voice was loud enough that it could've been… I don't actually know anything that could sound quite the same. It was loud but not a scream or a yell, just a bored sounding voice that was louder than any voice had a right to be. The thought of what someone would have to look like to have a voice like that and the power to project like that made me begin to shake slightly. “I- We are so sorry, we can decorate in the future-” one of the old men behind me spoke up, his voice was shaky and uncertain. Nothing like the self righteous asshole who was trying to convince me to accept being a sacrifice moments ago. He was cut off by an unimpressed hum from that same amplified voice. I wanted to run but I didn't think I could maneuver myself to stand from kneeling with my hands still tied behind my back, plus I couldn't get far with this cloth over my head anyways, I'd probably walk right off a cliff. I tried to look around, more just moving my head left and right as if it would shake the pillow case from my head, it must’ve still been night given not a drop of light was making its way through the fabric. “Tell me, did you finally find a decent sacrifice for me this time? The last one barely lasted a week.” the voice echoed again, it was amused and playfully pouty, not the dramatic threatening tone you’d expect from a supposed god. “I assure you, he’s strong willed and obedient.” I winced at the description given by the same old man who spoke previously, he made it sound like he was a salesman and I was the pet he was auctioning off. I didn't like how close the comparison was to reality. “He better be.” The voice was annoyed now and slightly laced with threats unsaid, I was honestly starting to wish I had remained unconscious.
It wasn’t long until it went silent, it seemed like the group was waiting for some sort of request from the voice, and when it didn't come they didn't know what to do. After what felt like hours of the painful silence, an almost cat-like growl that was far too loud to have been from any feline I'd ever heard emanated from closer than the voice had previously. It was after that ‘warning’ that I finally heard retreating footsteps rushing away from wherever we were and seemingly back to the town. I was alone with a monster that was powerful enough to be called a god.
I didn’t speak, the hopeful part of me begging to be ignored and left alone, as if there was a chance I'd be left here to fend for myself against wildlife I couldn't even see. I was not so lucky. With no warning, not even a grunt, the pillow case was lifted off my head and tossed aside somewhere. I clenched my eyes shut as I felt the bag slip over my head, not wanting to face whatever horrifying sight I was sure would be awaiting me. “Look at me, human.” The voice was close, louder, and accompanied by a rush of warm air rolling over me. The scent of strawberries rolled with it. This Faelee’s form was shifting in my mind, the image of it changing from a massive ball of wings and eyes to some sort of dragon that could talk. I shook my head, not wanting to look my death in the eyes even if that alone was the defiance that sentenced me to a sooner demise. “I don't think you’re in a position to disobey me here.” This time there was a chuckle and something warm shoved at my chest, knocking me to my back with a startled oomf. I still stubbornly kept my eyes shut tight, ignoring the racing of my heart. “Just make it quick.” I tried to sound confident and badass, but my voice shook and it was quiet enough I couldn't guarantee it was even going to be heard. But it was, and it was answered with another rumbling chuckle. “Open your eyes so I can see how pretty they are.” The voice changed tactics, aiming to flatter me into agreeing. I could’t see why my eyes being open or not would matter, I assumed it was more of a respect and obedience thing for the ‘god’. I knew it was probably dumb to continue to deny and stubbornly keep my eyes shut, but it was a small act of rebellion that I could achieve. And I didn't listen. “Open your eyes or I'll make you open them” the growl in the tone wasn’t subtle, and the voice was somehow louder than the rumble it already was. I wanted to ignore the demand once more, keep this small rebellion for myself, but the threat was obvious and I didn't have enough of a death wish to keep this up. Hesitantly, I cracked one eye open and then the other. I didn't expect to see much given I was lying on my back since getting up after being pushed would’ve required use of my hands, my hands which were still tied tightly behind me and were currently being squished painfully under my back. I saw the night sky, it was clear above me. Enough so that it was clear the ‘altar’ I was on was large enough or in a clearing large enough to keep trees from blocking the view. I could hear the crickets loud enough that I knew we were somewhere within the woods. I heard a satisfied and amused hum, quieter now but still thunderous. And in a split second something thicker than my arm, something with a sharp point at the end, hooked under my back and pulled me once more into a kneeling position. That's when I finally saw it- well, him. He wasn’t a monstrous hideous thing, nor was he even close to what I imagined I'd see. He looked almost like a human, if it weren't for his size. It was clear in an instant that the clearing was right before the edge of a cliff, and I was beyond glad I wasn't on ground level with him. He was massive, only his torso showing over the cliff’s ledge. He wore a sort of wrap cloak looking thing made from some sort of glittering black fabric, and his ears were decorated with massive stones and rings made of wood and metal alike. He looked every bit like a god, his features sharp and pointed in a way that looked sculpted from stone, his skin was medium brown and I swear it glittered gold under the white light of the moon.
What had lifted me was in fact, a single finger. He was large enough I stood barely as tall as his middle finger, and kneeling like I was made me even smaller to him. The sharp point I mentioned was his long claw, painted -or stained- a dark purple that almost blended into the night. His eyes were what made me freeze, they were piercing and massive, each eye larger than my head, and both a piercing yellow with slit pupils like a cat’s. The black slits rounded into almost normal pupils when I locked eyes with him, and a smirk fit for a god plastered onto his face. I was frozen stiffer than a board, trembling from a mix of the cold night air and the fear that was pulsing through my veins. “See? Not that hard.” His tone shook me out of my trance slightly, not enough for it to matter really. He sounded proud of himself in that annoying way people get when you do what they expected you to, but there was a purr to it that was inhuman but not quite animal. I could see now why the leaders assumed he was a god, or believed him if he told them that's what he was. They hadn’t said how they got that idea. My breathing was rapid and shallow, and I knew he noticed based on how his smirk grew enough to show the pointed tips of his canine teeth as he glanced down to my rapidly rising and falling chest before looking back at my face. “Scared silent? I thought you would be more entertaining.” His voice was loud still, but he wasn’t leaning as close as before, and i noticed as the heat rolled out with his breath that he was where that strawberry scent had come from, if i werent scared shitless i would have wondered where he found giant sized strawberries or a cluster of enough of them to taint his breath so strongly. Though deep down I was grateful the smell was strawberries and not something horribly gruesome like the metallic coppery scent that lingered from gore. I shook the thought from my head, blinking a few times quickly as if that would fix the situation and somehow teleport me to my bed where I would wake up finding this was all a bad dream. No such miracle transpired. I didn’t know what to say, and part of me knew I wouldn't have been able to make my voice work even if I had known what to say. “I guess I can go first, I'm generous like that, I'm Faelee. And you?”
The question was normal enough, the wording definitely fit such a character, but his tone and air of threat surrounding him was enough for me to get the message that it wouldn’t do me good to ignore him. I tried to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for an embarrassing while before an impatient huff escaped Faelee and I was finally able to get my shaking squeak of a voice to come out. “Wylie. I'm wylie.” im surprised he was able to hear me, but I was more than glad he didn't force me to repeat myself. I can't guarantee my voice would work twice so soon. “Wylie,” he said, like he owned it, like he was tasting it. “I like it. It's just pathetic enough to fit you.” If he were anyone else, any human that is, I probably would’ve snapped at him with a retort about names meaning nothing in a grand scheme of things. But I had a feeling that it wouldn't go over well with the god. That, and I could practically feel the pull under my ribs as he spoke my name. I regretted giving him my real name immediately, but deep down i knew he would’ve seen through any dumb fake i’d have given him. He seemed to enjoy the way I was startled when he said my name and it tugged at me, like he knew the odd feeling and wanted me to experience it until it hurt all for his brief amusement. I say brief, because I spent this moment rolling over everything he’d said before in search of something helpful, and all I'd come up with was him saying the last sacrifice barely lasted a week. I don't remember anyone going missing last June, I guess the old leaders truly did have a good idea of who to sacrifice, but I imagined they were probably stronger than me given my weaker than average build. If they didn't last, how would I survive the night? After repeating my name at least thrice, he finally moved on and once again focused his sole attention on me, his massive hand caging in behind me and tracing the sharp tip of his claw down my back just gently enough it didn't break the skin and surprisingly didn't rip the thin pajama t-shirt i was wearing. The claw stopped right above my tied wrists, and he spoke. “Let's see if you’ll be amusing enough to keep around.” The moment after he made the musing comment, he sliced his claw down and narrowly missed my back in favor of slicing through the ropes easily and leaving my wrists red but freed. It wasn't without casualty though, as he also sliced a line of red through my left palm.
I would’ve thought it was intentional, a warning of what he could do, if it weren't for the way he paused when he saw the blood on the tip of his claw when he pulled it away from me and froze for a second before snatching me up and turning me over quicker than i could fight back. I tried to shove at him with my non injured hand and kick his fingers as they caged around me. Cupping me in one hand while his other came closer to me and tried to grab my injured hand from where it was held against my chest, i say try not because i was strong enough to stop him -i very much was not- but because i kept flipping and moving in his hand that he couldn't grab my arm. After a minute of this, me cursing and squirming like all hell, and him trying to grab at my arm, he seemed to remember he could just hold me still. I didn't look up at his face, nor did I know what he wanted, I was stuck in my instincts and I wanted out of his too warm hand. His hand compressed my limbs and held me still, wrapping around me up to my ribs and making a point to pin my uninjured hand to my side as well, leaving my upper torso sticking out with my bloody hand pressed to my chest and slowly staining my shirt. I didn't stop kicking at him, but it did nothing now that I was held in place. I was panting, out of breath and light headed from how much adrenaline was still rushing through my every nerve. I struggled weakly against him as his free hand darted at me and his clawed fingers grabbed my arm and pulled it away from where I held it against my chest, revealing a dark red stain on my shirt that was barely visible in the darkness of the night. I held my breath and shut my eyes tightly, awaiting pain, and was shocked and horrified even further as something hot and wet pressed to my palm. My eyes flew open at the sensation and I was terrified further by the sight of his massive mouth open in front of me as his massive tongue licked the blood from my palm. I wanted to pull my arm away, but his clawed fingers were holding it still and I was far too worried about getting sliced by them again to risk pulling at my arm. I was surrounded by the warmth of his breath and the goddamn scent of strawberries as he licked my hand. It was over quick but not as quick as i would’ve liked -which would’ve been it never having happened at all-. And I noticed then that I was trembling almost aggressively. “Relax. I'm not trying to eat you or you’d already be swallowed.” His booming voice brought me out of my thoughts and back to reality, the scent of strawberries once again overwhelming me. Such a sweet smell being associated with such a terrible being was really messing with my mind. It took me a second to realize he started talking again, “of all the toys I've broken, I haven't once let any of them get a wound infected.” he snapped his terrifyingly sharp teeth close to my arm and I let out an embarrassing squeak. Or at least I would be embarrassed, if I weren't scared shitless. I tried not to think of the implications of his saliva being worthy of cleaning and disinfecting a wound, but I guess it made sense that a god, or god-like being, would have some weird features like that.
I wish I could say that it all ended here, that I was set back down on the altar and managed to make a heroic escape back to the town and tell everyone what the town's leaders had been doing for who knows how long, but sadly I can't. In fact, I can't tell you what happened immediately after at all, since the mixture of adrenaline, fear, confusion, and even more utter terror, was enough that my brain decided it would be better to simply not. So, I passed out. Fully limp and unprotected in the hands of a giant maybe-god with a horrifyingly confusing moral compass.
janainaart
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