The Sacrificial Virgin

The tribe was chanting louder and louder, in the darkness of the night. Their voices rose as the sacrifice was taken out of her cage and led to the altar. They demanded blood spilt. They needed the sacrifice to the gods and they wanted it now.

She was led through the throngs of people her head downcast. Two burly men kept their large hands wrapped firmly around her upper arms. They were determined to make sure she didn’t run. But she wouldn’t. She had tried before, failed, and by now was just wishing it was over, that she was dead. She knew, also, that if she wasn’t sacrificed tonight someone else would be in her place and she didn’t think that she could deal with the death on her conscience.

She could hear her mother and father, even over the tribes shouting. They were sobbing for their only child, begging with anyone who would listen. But no one would stop, no one would listen. Truly, she hadn’t expected anything else. Her tribe was definitely one of the most archaic of the modern world. They still believed in all the old views and practised dangerous rituals on a monthly basis. Generally, it didn’t involve murder but times had been tough for her tribe recently. There had been a drought, there was barely any food and she had known it wasn’t long before they turned to their gods for help.

Finally, reaching the edge of the stone altar, the men turned her roughly to face the crowd. Their bloodthirsty faces were lit by candles arranged all around. She could see their excitement and wasn’t really shocked, more disappointed. These were people she’d known her entire life and they didn’t even care if she were to die. They were eager to see her death. She felt pity for them; it wasn’t there fault that life had been difficult. They were just dealing with it the only way they knew how.

But then that pity was ripped away with her thin white dress. One of the men had taken a knife and cut a slit down her clothing. It fell off and the crowd grew louder and more excited as they looked at her naked body. She was shaking, but not from the cold. From pure, unadulterated anger. How dare they do this to her? Shame her like this? Her eyes burnt a fire like that of the candles.

The two men laid her down on the stone altar, pinning her down by her shoulders. She lay there calmly, biding her time. Inwardly, her mind was running a mile a minute, thinking of ways to escape. There must be something, she thought. Anything…

Meanwhile, the chief in the tribe had come up to stand before her. He looked at her with compassionless eyes, it was clear her death would mean nothing to him. That only made her angrier.

He turned his back on her to face the crowd, hushing them with a wave of his hand. Then, he began the ritual words in their own language. He talked about the gods and their mercy. If they were so merciful, she thought, why couldn’t they help her?

Having finished the speech the chief turned back to look at her. It was only then that she noticed the ritual dagger clutched in his bony hand. She knew it was coming. What should she do? Run? Try and grab the dagger and-? Her thoughts cut out as she saw the chief raise the dagger up high. His eyes were staring at her, tainted with… nothing, no emotion and her eyes stared back at him with loathing.

Then it happened. As he moved the dagger to plunge it into her, she was staring into his eyes. In the next second, she became him, swinging the dagger into her own body. The dagger plunged into the heart and she recognised the chiefs own eyes staring up at her from her body. They both stared at each other shocked, before his eyes closed. Her body was dead. But she wasn’t in it anymore.

She heard, like a distant noise, the sound of cheering. She turned in her new body to find the crowd in the midst of celebrating. Celebrating. Her death. Or her supposed death.

She looked out at all of them. Then back at her dead corpse. They were happy about this, about her death! Then, through her sadness, anger burst through, along with a strong lust for revenge.

An evil grin spread across her face as she pictured all the damage she could do in this new body. The revenge she could take on all the people rejoicing over her death. She’d never really liked her tribe anyway.