Short Story -Sow Me Out, Gather Me In

He was cold, and scared. Goosebumps were crawling up his arm making the hairs stand on end. He could feel them moving like a wave making him look like a scared cat. The idea came to him that maybe that is what he should do. Arch his back and hiss like a cat and make the town reconsider the ritual.

"Are you ready, Eli?" Archie asked. He was wearing a mask he had made from woven straw, his words muffled slightly but he could still hear the excitement running through his words. From the other side, the masks were part of the fun, but from where he now sat, he thought Archie looked grotesque. The eye holes were big enough for him to see Archie's smiling eyes beneath the crude stag mask. Bastard.

"Just open yourself up to Herne, Eli. Let him in and you will feel the euphoria of the ritual." He held his mask in place with one hand as he spoke to stop it from sliding off. With only a single lantern burning, Archie looked like something from a nightmare. A cross between a scarecrow, a deer and a human. They had been in this barn now, preparing for a few hours. Now it was time to start.

The drums started to beat from outside. Each beat making his heart jump into his throat. Laughter soon followed. It sounded like it was pointed at him. Insulting him as he tried to prepare for the sacrifice. Harsh, blowing laughter from men and light, melodic giggling from women mixing with the drum to force home his reality.

The offering had always had that effect on the village. It made them giddy with euphoria and lustful for blood. Why wasn’t he feeling it this year? Archie seemed to be falling under the spell like everyone else. Why was he sitting scared and thinking about running?

In previous offerings, he had fallen into the dirt of the field, overcome with ecstasy. Writing naked in the freshly ploughed soil, fucking whoever was near, not even knowing or caring who he was with. But this year was different. This year, he would be in the ground with Archie. This year, he was picked.

He had lived the whole year thinking the yield would pick someone else. Like he had in the previous eighteen years, but in February, he saw the faint red markings surface on his left bicep. He tried to ignore them for a few days, but the raised red welts took on the unmistakable shape of an ear of wheat. It was the mark of the yield. He had been picked.

Archie opened the barn door and the cries of the crowd outside erupted. Cheering and clapping for them both, making as much noise as they could. Some people wailing or screaming. He watched Archie walk towards them, the he started ducking and dancing around like he was possessed as he made his way out into the field.

Eli walked to the threshold of the barn and took a deep breath of the cold night air. Allowing it cold to to fill his lungs. He scanned the crowd and saw the people of his village. Some wearing their own dark, imaginative mask fashioned from straw and saplings. A few people, were wearing masks and nothing else, ready for the moment the offering was complete and the orgy started.

He searched for his parents and for Ruby. He wanted some strength to be able to carry on, and couldn’t see one of them. They would be out there, somewhere. Maybe following behind Archie, mimicking his erratic dances and cheering every time he reached for the sky. He knew the drill. Had done it himself a number of times. When the offering was due, people changed. He had forgotten everything when he watched Ruby’s mother delicately lie down in the grave and smile as her throat was slit.

She had smiled as her blood spurted out and covered her naked chest. Ruby was by his side that night, her soft hand on his back as her mother gurgled and choked at their feet. He had watched her die and felt nothing but excitement. He had been one of the first to frantically take a handful of loose dirt and throw it onto her. Then, when Ruby did the same, they had fucked like demons.

He followed in Archie’s footsteps. Walking towards the centre of the field, they called Estate, where a shallow grave was waiting. Women threw flowers on the ground in front of him, some reaching to touch him as he walked past. A naked woman masked with woven antlers pulled him into a hug. He felt her breasts press against him and the straw of her mask grate against his cheek as she leaned in.

“So proud,” was whispered in his ear quickly before she let him go and pushed him on. He recognised his mother’s voice and his heart sped up another gear. She was about to watch him in the offering with the same level of arousal he had watched with in previous years. He walked on, knowing if he stopped to think about the ritual too much he would lose his mind.

When he got to the open grave, he saw that Archie was now naked, except for the straw mask, and was reaching for the sky. His stomach sagged over his waist, making him look like a pot-bellied worm. Hands, belonging to naked men and women, reached out to touch and caress him. A knife was placed in his hand which he held up to the light of the moon before sliding it into side of his neck.

The crowd cheered as a bright red spurt of blood shot out. Archie groaned as he removed the knife. Someone took it from him before he fell into the grave. Moans could be heard from all around now as the crowd's carnal desires overtook them.

He was pushed to the edge of the grave. He starred down and saw Archie was lay on his stomach. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water trying to breath. His robe was pulled over his head and he a few kisses on his back and shoulders as it disappeared into the crowd. He stepped into the grave and his foot touched Archie’s leg. He was cold already.

The same knife, still covered in Archie’s blood, was forced into his hand. He held it up to the light of the moon, the same as Archie had done. He scanned the crowd and saw men lying on the ground with women riding them. A single woman, with a mask that resembled a rabbit, with long straw ears, was on all fours in the dirt, crawling towards the pile of dirt beside the grave, ready to grab a handful and toss it in.

The knife was slick, so he tightened his grip. He closed his eyes and noticed that the drums had stopped. He held the knife high in both hands, and the moaning of sexual gratification stopped. The only sound was Archie’s wet gurgling coming from his feet. He took another deep breath, enjoying the coolness inside his lungs.

He closed his eyes and recited the prayer. The same one that Archie would have said a few minutes ago. “Sow me out, and gather me in.” He lowered the knife and tensed up, ready for the strike. “Herne, the horned one. Feed my kin.”

The knife found its mark.