Sacrifice

So I've begun a few new projects for the summer, and I'd love to share some of what I've been working on. This is a part of a chapter called "Sacrifice" in the most recent novel I've started, which is as of yet untitled. It's a very rough draft, but I'm excited about the direction it's going! So without further ado....

Sacrifice

Part One

The end of my rifle rested on the stack of sandbags that separated my small section of dry land. It pointed at the three men who wandered towards the perimeter. It was dark and they couldn’t see me, or my gun. But I could see them through the scope of my weapon. I lowered the point and shot at the ground in front of them. The dust exploded, a lot of it landing on their clothes, and they yelped, jumping a foot into the air and then scrambling backwards.

“You’re inching a bit too close to my land there, gentlemen,” I called out.

“What in gods’ name!” the tallest man yelled. He wore an eye patch and a round hat, and the rest of him seemed to scream thief, from his worn leather coat, much longer than the norm, to his constantly twitching fingers.

“That was a warning. Next time it’ll be straight through that pretty eye patch of yours.”

“Hey, now, we’re just harmless travelers,” said another man in a much calmer tone. He put up his hands to show he meant no harm. This man was thin and balding, and looked like my uncle the banker.

I scoffed. “Harmless? You think I don’t know you mean to plunder that town up ahead? I’m no fool.”

“What’s it to you?” Mr. Eye Patch said.

“I may be on the outskirts, gentlemen, but that town is my town. And you’d better turn around and start heading the other direction and thank me for my mercy.”

“How do you know we won’t be back?” the balding man asked.

“Oh, you can certainly try. But I promise you, I’ll be right here waiting.”

“Maybe we’d just best get out of here,” Mr. Eye Patch said, nodding at the other two.

They turned and headed back the way they had come. The third man, a tall and slender fellow dressed all in black with a hat hooding his eyes, turned up to me as they left and gave me a wink. I couldn’t quite make out his face, but something about his manner seemed familiar. I almost directed my gun towards him, but they all started to jog away, and I figured I didn’t need to start unnecessary trouble.

I set my gun down beside the sandbags and turned back to the house that sat at the south end of my perimeter. It was a small wooden house, with just one story and a few rooms. As I walked inside, the door creaked on its hinges and scraped the wooded floor. I closed it shut and walked to the fireplace, where I had soup cooking in a pot over the flames. I gave it a stir.

A slight clink of wind chimes just inside my door told me I had company. I went to the window and looked out, to see a man just behind the front gate, waving his hand in greeting. He was short and a bit plump, a hard thing to accomplish in our town. His body held on to fat like an earthworm sticks in the ground. Many people counted him lucky. He was dressed in a white shirt and a vest, with tan breeches and a cloak to protect from the cold and the dirt.

I went out to meet him in the yard. “A bit dark for a visit, Arnold.”

“I’ve just come from the town meeting.” Arnold’s voice, usually slow and raspy in his old age was now quick with an urgency I rarely saw him display. “I do wish you would have come.”

“To the meeting? But I never go.”

“Yes but…this meeting was a lot more…pertinent to you than normal.”

“Oh, just have out with it. What is it you came to tell me?”

Arnold took off his hat and held it in front of him, nervously passing it from hand to hand. “Well, you see, Quill, Greensboro has chosen.”

“Chosen what?”

“They believe the gods are angry, and that a sacrifice is necessary.”

My heart fell to my stomach and I felt a tremor in my hands. “Angry? For what? What have we done?”

“Things haven’t been good lately. They don’t know how else to explain it.”

I started to pace about in front of him. “That’s stupid.”

“They’re scared, Quill. It’s hard times. They believe we’re overdue for a sacrifice. And that’s not all….”

I stopped and stared at Arnold for a moment. I could see the hesitation in the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “What else is there?”

“The townspeople they, they chose you.”

I squinted at him for a moment, and then waved my hand in dismissal. “No, no, wait a minute. We have rules. Volunteers first and if there are none, only the sick and dying.”

“Yes, but you see, the townspeople think that this ill fortune, along with the other unfortunate things we’ve suffered lately, may be a result of your…well, your lifestyle.”

“They blame me? That’s not fair! I protect this town.”

“I know you do, Quill.”

“What exactly is it I have caused?”

“Well, the crops haven’t been great this year and there’s been a lot of sickness in town.”

I took a violent step towards him, bringing my face close. “You mean to tell me that I’m being blamed for their stupidity in farming and medical care? I have nothing to do with that. I hardly even live there!”

“I’m sorry, Quill. The people want someone to blame. They want to feel like they’re doing something to alleviate the problem.”

“And so they’ve decided that I’m the problem?”

Arnold gave the slightest nod, taking a step away from me.

“So after all I’ve done to protect them, all the ways in which I’ve helped them, this is how I’m thanked? This is how I will be remembered? As a sacrifice?”

“I’m sorry, Quill. I came to warn you. They’re coming for you tomorrow.”

I shook my head and walked back to my home. “Well, thanks for the warning,” I spoke without facing him. “You can leave now.”

“Quill? Will you run?”

“If I were I would hardly tell you now, would I?”

“I suppose not. Good luck, my girl.”

“Yeah, you too old man.” I went into the house. The soup was done, probably overdone. I took the pot off and set in on the counter in the kitchen. I wasn’t really hungry anymore. I took a seat on the cot in the corner.

I had created a place here for myself. For ten years I had lived on my own, taking care of myself, keeping those who would do the town harm at bay. I never quite fit in with the townspeople. I supposed I unnerved them, but the people knew me and respected me, and I them. At least, so I thought. How long had these feelings gone on in the townspeople without my knowing? How long had they blamed me for their misfortunes?

Maybe I should just give them what they wanted. I had protected the town this long. Maybe this was my final way of taking care of them, as much as I didn’t agree with it. But the last thing I wanted for my death was to be a sick gift to the gods. I wouldn’t go out like that. Not like that.