For Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt : pale
She crouched in a corner of the hut until it was over, her apron over her head, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear the pleading in their voices, but that was all she could hear—that and the chanting of the men in black.
Her father would occasionally kill one of the wethers, if there was a nasty one, because they were vicious some of them, or if one got injured. They would have meat for a long while then, and she would eat it like everybody else and be grateful for it. But this was different. The men who came, all in black, they took the new lambs. They took the lambs she had played with. She heard the ewes bleating now, crying for their babies. They could smell the terror and the blood. She sobbed in helpless anger.
Her father had told her to be still and quiet, and he’d piled a heap of skins over her and pulled her mother’s loom across the floor so no one would see her from the door. His face was white. She had never seen her father afraid before. When the men had gone, he let her out, took her in his arms to comfort her, but he couldn’t bring them back. ‘Sacrifice’ he’d called it, and spat out the word as if it tasted bad and bitter.
The men in black had left the bones in the fire, blackened and stinking. A greasy smoke curled around them, and her breath caught in her throat. When the ashes were cold, she took the head bones and washed them white again in the spring. She laid them on the rocks where the sun would warm them, brought them flowers to replace their springy white curls, and vowed that the next time the men in black came to take the lives of her flock, she would kill them.
This made so sad and upset.
*made me. See, I can’t even write!
The tears ?
Not actually crying, it just made me sad. Great writing though to evoke such feelings. 🙂
I’m glad it moved you. I can’t help thinking that there must have been a whole mass of people in times we consider pretty barbaric, who must have been very unhappy for exactly the same reasons we would be;
This is a fabulous piece of writing Jane, loved how you explored the emotions of the girl. So good.
I’m glad you like this piece, Michael. Historical fantasy is probably what I enjoy writing most.
Flowers for their curls…..beautifully put. And a lovely photograph too. 🙂
It was a good photo for a prompt. I’m not sure whose skulls they are but they could be sheep.
Could be, I was thinking goats.. Similar enough though
I’m not too familiar with skulls…
An occupational hazard for me. 🙂
So you’re a doctor for real?
Yup, an Ophthalmic surgeon. At least I used to be before I quit practice an year ago. 🙂
I hope the change in regime suits you 🙂
Well it’s a change for sure! 😀
Thanks though, it’s a breather while I decide what to do with what remains of life. 🙂
Do something wonderful 🙂
wow truly great writing, felt the girls emotions, the images you paint in this story are fab.
Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it 🙂
An excellent take on the photo. I wasn’t sure what to make of those skulls ? A great read. ☺
Thank you! It looks as though somebody put them there for a reason. We just have to imagine the reason 🙂
Fabulous piece of writing. The girls anger lept right off the page! I almost want them to come back so I can cheer her on as she takes her vengeance. Great Job. KL ❤
I’m not the only bloodthirsty, no forgiveness one then 🙂 Glad you enjoyed the story!
This was a very moving piece of writing. Great work!
Thanks Angelica. Homesickness gets me periodically.
Jane, you wrote this with a great deal of emotion, but in the end the young girl becomes a tiger.
She becomes what she needs to be to survive, probably. I like writing about societies where girls and women have a hard time, and describing a girl who refuses to be crushed by precedent.