A Marriage of Death

Mortal women have been sacrificed to Gods since the dawn of time.

Psyche to Eros. Iphigenia to Artemis. Aglauros to Athena. I will soon have something in common with these women.

Some of these many women in history chose their end, while others were forced. I had neither event occur. I simply existed in the time that it was expected.

I did not refuse, and I did not accept. I lived my life with the understanding that this day would unfold against my will or not. There was an understanding.

I am to be sacrificed to a God.

A God of great fury. A God of divine power. A God I do not believe in.

Not that it wasn’t real.

This being of omnipotence and power had demanded its price in return for its wonderful gifts. It has shared its wonder and beauty with my people and, in turn, shown its power of great consequence.

Ever since my youth, my people have passed on this creature’s acts. They have woven tales of its beauty and grace. They have sung of its noble deeds and treacherous temper. They cower in fear of this beast, and yet they praise it.

I never understood that.

I do not believe in those stories. A God is a being of purity, and this creature shows no signs of divine grace. I do not believe in its cruel ways. Its tarnished view of give and take.

It is greedy and without remorse.

It is no better than a mortal child that cries when upset and wreaks havoc when angry.

I made the unfortunate mistake of giving voice to my doubts. Now, I am not only an offering to a creature I hold no faith in, but I am also a pariah in the small community I call home.

The clouds have darkened. The winds have picked up. The sea has settled.

I stand, watching the scene from above. My toes nearly hang off the edge of the cliff overlooking the great sea. A gorgeous sight I never had the chance to see until this day.

The boys in school would dare each other to stand where I do now. To make that dangerous trek and set their eyes on the altar of countless murders.

I am not the first to be here, and I doubt I will be the last.

A festival of light and merriment continues at my back. A feast for the God that wishes us sorrow. I forced myself to stare forward, knowing there would be no good in looking back. They cheered and hollered a song of joy. They danced. They ate. They conversed as though this day were one not of fear.

My own chair, positioned next to the elders at the head of the feast, has been vacant for some time. When my focus had set upon the cliffs' ascent, my feet found the ground before I could question it.

It was my own will that found me at the precipice of my end. I was not forced or reasoned, nor was I caught in the arms of the unwilling.

I had seen that unfold all too clearly. Even now, I wince at the memory. That poor woman. My age and in my place. She cried, she fought, she tore at the arms holding her back from the cliff. Her family sobbed behind her, trying to force her and the elders to reconsider. To choose someone else.

That woman wanted to jump. She fought for it. She had no greater purpose than to serve out this century-long deal and fall prey to the God she believed in.

I did not cry. I did not fight. I certainly do not believe.

The air around me chilled through my fabric.

Some could not decide if I made a devastating bride or a beautiful corpse.

They could not decide if my flowers in hand were to escort me down the aisle or lie atop my breast underground. If the white fabric that wrapped my body were to show my purity to the altar, or if it were to mimic the angels that would soon greet me. If the creature at the end is to be my betrothed or the unseemly face of death.

I could not decide either.

Though it was a concept many were considering. Their eyes finally found me away from the festival. Their stare heavied on my back with tears of sorrow and joy.

They would soon be in the relief of living another decade in peace. But they would grow weary at the end of that time, knowing it could be their own daughters standing in my place.

My father is in attendance at the cheerful party down below. Along with my mother, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Some of which I have not seen in years, and others I see all too regularly.

Now it will be the last they see of me. I try to burn their faces into my mind. To recall the memories of them at the beginning of the end.

Life as a child had never been easier. Never had it been so innocent. I remember my father’s smile. My mother’s laugh. The presence of my siblings in a world of peace.

As the years grew out, so did I.

I turned from a girl to a woman, and with that, the peace began to subside. The worry took its place. My father never smiled as brightly. My mother laughed very little. My siblings were never in the same place at once.

In some ways, I am grateful. This is the last I see of them, but they are all here together.

I wonder if it will stay that way after I am gone. If the change in my absence will halt the worry and bring back the peace this God claims it can provide. If my impending end will no longer be the gossip in every ear. The subject of every conversation. Or the source of sympathy in every sad smile towards my family.

Will my sacrifice ever be enough? Will this creature take me as its last victim? Will it ever be satisfied with the misery and happiness that it brings?

The storm clouds have darkened. The wind now untamed. And the water below waits for my arrival.

I can’t help but picture a boy from my youth in this second. He had unruly light hair of gold. Blue eyes, darker than the sea below. I fancied myself in love with him. A harmless crush that I see now was not harmless in the slightest.

Women of sacrifice in my village are marked at every offering. I was ten when I saw that woman struggle from her family’s arms and race off the edge of the cliff. It was that day my village waited for me to cross the cliff in the next ten years.

I was beside that boy when I realized I was next.

He stayed close to me all throughout my childhood. He promised me love, devotion and a ring when we were of age. Silly words from a silly boy. And yet, I believed in them.

A belief far stronger than what I felt for this creature now commencing the ritual of my end.

I wonder if I really would have married that boy. If in another life, if I wasn’t marked, or if this village was not preyed on by a malevolent being, I wish I could see what would have happened.

Because from that day forward, that boy slipped away. His parents dragged him off. He hid from me. He broke those sweet promises and married another.

What breaks me the most is that I do not blame him.

The music and chatter from my people silenced and turned into the rite of my send-off. The melody below carried to my ears and softened the doubts entertaining me.

The image of the boy slips from my mind. Along with my family and their faces. My own name now foreign to me.

The whispers of a Godly tongue please my ears. Its presence engulfs my being. The salt crinkles my nose with its harsh smell from the sea. I rest my eyes upon the still water.

With one final thought, I step off the cliff.

What will be waiting for me at the end?