The night she had been fearing was coming...
The night that she knew might someday come, but hoped never would.
There hadn’t been rain for weeks and the fields had turned to dust. The goats were starving and soon their milk would dry up. The little children in her village had been looking especially scrawny lately. She knew something had to be done, but why did she have to do it?
Her plan was to simply leave in the night, her clothes would be left her bed as if she had already been taken. Hopefully none would be the wiser. “Let them burn someone else.” she thought. “I would take the uncertainties of a life alone to one that ends so soon.”.
A twinge of guilt shot through her gut as she thought about the gods. What would they do to the people? What would they do to her? Eventually she nodded off to sleep and her dreams were strange and unclear. She woke the next morning drenched in sweat feeling like she hadn’t slept at all. There were strange noises outside.
The people were already arriving at her hut, bestowing gifts upon her for the sacrifice she was about to make. There was an odd hunk of bread, some flowers, and a piece of comb that still had some honey left on it. As she gathered these things she heard a noise and turned to find a small, dirty faced boy with a lump of grimy rags in his hand. He was an orphan boy who had lost his parent to the sickness that had swept through the area almost a year ago. He handed her the wad and his gaunt face shined with sorrow. When she took it from him, he lingered with his fingers wrapped around the mass of dirt and cloth for a moment before letting go and speeding off back toward the village. It was a very ugly doll made from strips of cloth cut from his mother’s clothes. More than likely his only possession. A tear ran down her cheek as she grasped it. There was that pain in the pit of her stomach again...
