Tradition
to hell with it.
Luke’s hand was warm as it grasped mine tightly. I looked blankly at our hands, the contrast of my pale skin from the west side of the town, his darker, rougher skin from the east, my mind was other places. Please, don’t let the paper read Luke Harold. The thought is on repeat in my mind. If one of us has to go, it has to be him. I’m not strong enough to go on without him. No one will really miss me, sure there’s my sister, but she’s only five. Someday, I could grow to be just a distant memory to her. My parents can throw their grief aside to raise Emily right. This would be the time for my name to be called. This would be the time to die.
His hand gives mine a squeeze, dragging me back to reality. “Amber, we have to grab our coins.”
I shake my head to clear the thoughts, but the chant of not Luke. not Luke. not Luke. keeps playing. “Let’s go.”
We stand at the back of the line, waiting our turn to reach into the box and grab a coin.
There are some tradition so old that they are no longer questioned, that’s kind of how something as gruesome as this happens. Way back when the town of Alensville was founded, well, I guess it was founded by pagans who believed in human sacrifices, and that’s really where the problem started. Something about keeping whatever keeps the world going appease, so once a centralized town government happened, mayor after mayor kept up the tradition, obviously running on the ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ concept.
My hand is grasped tightly around the coin, the cold metal quickly warmed by my skin. Around me, people breathe out sighs of relief, making the odds greater and greater that it will be his name that gets called. I can’t be the one left behind.
“Amber, come on, just open your hand.” I shook my head, holding the coin so tightly I could feel it cutting into my skin. His hands were soft around mine, a white coin slipped into his pocket for safe keeping. I breathed a sigh of relief, my hand opening between his.
His breath fell from his lips so rapidly, I couldn’t tell if from relief or anger. “We’re safe, Amber, we’re safe.”
I leaned against him, feeling a wash of relief that weakened my knees. He caught me, his arms strong around my waist, keeping me grounded.
Chaos started to rumble on the other side of the field, screams becoming several loud voices…until Mayor Mill quieted them with a loud whistle.
No one really remembers where the group idea of the sacrifice started, but, just like everything else about it, the council won’t change it.
Mayor Mill is looking at his wife with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sarah, but you know the rules.”
“Why don’t we challenge the rules, Michael? You talk every year about how barbaric this is, yet we still do it. Everyone thinks it’s disgusting, but here we are, because no one will speak up, everyone stays silent.” She bows her head to wipe her eyes, not letting us see her cry. “Go ahead,” her arms braced at her sides, elbows locked to prevent a fight, “I’m not going to stop you, but I just want to make you think.”
This is always my least favorite part. Everyone has to take a cut…
His hand gives mine a squeeze, dragging me back to reality. “Amber, we have to grab our coins.”
I shake my head to clear the thoughts, but the chant of not Luke. not Luke. not Luke. keeps playing. “Let’s go.”
We stand at the back of the line, waiting our turn to reach into the box and grab a coin.
There are some tradition so old that they are no longer questioned, that’s kind of how something as gruesome as this happens. Way back when the town of Alensville was founded, well, I guess it was founded by pagans who believed in human sacrifices, and that’s really where the problem started. Something about keeping whatever keeps the world going appease, so once a centralized town government happened, mayor after mayor kept up the tradition, obviously running on the ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ concept.
My hand is grasped tightly around the coin, the cold metal quickly warmed by my skin. Around me, people breathe out sighs of relief, making the odds greater and greater that it will be his name that gets called. I can’t be the one left behind.
“Amber, come on, just open your hand.” I shook my head, holding the coin so tightly I could feel it cutting into my skin. His hands were soft around mine, a white coin slipped into his pocket for safe keeping. I breathed a sigh of relief, my hand opening between his.
His breath fell from his lips so rapidly, I couldn’t tell if from relief or anger. “We’re safe, Amber, we’re safe.”
I leaned against him, feeling a wash of relief that weakened my knees. He caught me, his arms strong around my waist, keeping me grounded.
Chaos started to rumble on the other side of the field, screams becoming several loud voices…until Mayor Mill quieted them with a loud whistle.
No one really remembers where the group idea of the sacrifice started, but, just like everything else about it, the council won’t change it.
Mayor Mill is looking at his wife with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sarah, but you know the rules.”
“Why don’t we challenge the rules, Michael? You talk every year about how barbaric this is, yet we still do it. Everyone thinks it’s disgusting, but here we are, because no one will speak up, everyone stays silent.” She bows her head to wipe her eyes, not letting us see her cry. “Go ahead,” her arms braced at her sides, elbows locked to prevent a fight, “I’m not going to stop you, but I just want to make you think.”
This is always my least favorite part. Everyone has to take a cut…