Sacrifice (Version #1)

I was walking in a straight path. In a field of golden grass. Looking up at

the orange sun in late evening and I heard the sun talk to me.

The sun said, “You know what to do, right?”

Astonished at the sun that spoke to me, “What?” I asked.

The sun spoke again “You shall put down your works and wrap barbed wire

around your thinning neck.”

Confused with a questioned look, I see razor sharp barbed wire just to the

left of me. Its slightly hidden in the tall swaying grass. Its rusty

serpent curves out onto my approaching path. I pick it up cautiously and

wrap it around my thinning neck. There was enough barbed wire to wrap

around my neck three times, and I do so. Each time the razors dig deeper

and deeper into my neck. Carving puncturing holes for flies to slaughter

and lay larva in. I continue walking with my warm red blood dripping down

my thinning neck.

“You have done wise,” the sun speaks to me.

In my path I walk and I can hear the sounds of drums and hand-made

instruments being played in the back of my head.

The barbed wire digs into my flesh with every step I take and my eyes begin

to close in thought of what I am doing. I wonder why lions have not

followed my blood trail or smelt my fear.

I question the sun, “What is this all about? Why did you have me do this?”

A few shadows pass by and then the sun replies, “Because you are an

important one, one who survives many moons, and protects children from the

uniformed dreams.”

Not fully understanding what the sun meant, I gave a perplexed look and

glanced toward the top of the sky at the sun. I heard nothing so I

continued on my chosen path between the blades of gold.

By blood now dribbles less, more cold - than warm. The sun is completely gone

now and the full moon guides my path. Although my path is no longer that of

golden grass, but now of grey rocks. I am climbing upwards, in this path of

rocks and flowing water. The moonshine reflects on the barbed wire wrapped

around my neck.

I hear voices. Yelling and horrible screams, but all very faint.

Disappeared children, stolen from their beds at night while dreaming. That’s

what it must be, that’s what I hear.

My path gets steeper now. And I miss the sun’s voice who spoke to me

earlier with sweet orders. Rock climbing, I notice my feet are bare. All

this time my feet have been naked? I don’t remember. I thought I had soles

before, but I suppose I was wrong.

After the nights walk, which seemed for many generations, I got to the top

of my rocky mountain. The altitude delivered fresh air and I could hear

hawks echoing in the valley distance. I stood still with barbed wire around

my neck, which now have carved black holes deep into my throat.

The east was bringing the sunrise. Slowly the same orange sun from earlier

rose into the thinning sky. Oranges and reds and yellows it brought up from

the other side of the land.

As it continued to rise, the sun finally spoke, “Now you shall walk forward,

close your eyes and progress...”

In my puzzle of my own thoughts, I knew if I were to walk forward I would

fall off the rocky mountain. Not understanding the sun’s intentions, I

begin to question the sun, “Why?”

The sun continued, “...for the children...do it for the children...”

With my right foot forward I step, I leap, I progress. I saved.

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.08.23.08:42:00@NYC10012

98.08.24.24:47:59@NJ07430