Werifesteria

Chapter 7

      With every passing day, I felt myself growing somehow different from the days before. Each morning became less of a nuisance, and more of a spectacle as each clear night had become a work of breath-taking diamond-speckled art, and the words in my books seemed to bleed off the page rather than sit idly as my eyes swept over them. Along with this, I found myself thinking more poetically than I used to as the access people around me became less and less important. This shrine became the very heart of my interest, as well as my motivation and overall passions. Ironically, there had been so much debate on who our god should be, that we just picked two. Apollo and Dionysus combined. Being the ever youthful deity, along with his representation of music and poetry, we found him to be the most fitting. Despite this, Connie still ranted and raved that we should have Dionysus as our god, so we just allowed it... Birdie was slightly disappointed with this outcome, but was happy to at least have Apollo in the mix. What started off as half-hearted little dances and jokes quickly escalated something more. Birdie began leaving offerings of her own poetry in the altar in the name of Apollo, which led Connie to leaving stolen alcohol and lemons–which was a random offer, but an offer no less. As for me, I was the last to participate in their shenanigans. I didn't quite catch on until later, but the way they offered various things and even spoke aloud to our make-belief god made me think that this was becoming less of a playful little joke and more of a serious thing. They never took the friskiness away from their tones, but I wasn't entirely deaf to the increasing earnesty in their voices. There was a sense of genuinity and passion gradually building up in their words, and I believe it grew a little more each day in a subtle but definitive way, like a sapling. The only question I had was if this sapling would sprout into a beautiful tree, or become the very rot of everything beautiful we'd nurtured thus far.
Religion is a powerful and dangerous subject, and with the way we were heading, that was more of what it seemed to be turning into. Not a joke. A religion. Our seemingly innocent meet-ups became almost like that of an occult. Even Connie, who formerly had zero interest in the mythology of ancient Greece, was becoming slowly but surely enamored with the idea of our own selective god. And, as religions do, it would slowly blossom into something much more horrific and tainted than anything we could ever imagine...
I walked through the pines, which I was now more familiar with than my actual home. Not even my bedroom brought me as much comfort as this fragrant and dense wood. Even music couldn't compare to the lovely sound of the wind brushing through the pine needles and leaves. Everything around me was so still, yet simultaneously moving incredibly fast as I made my way to the shrine. I'd started wondering what my role was in this little fairytale we'd started writing for ourselves: Connie was like our leader, despite coming in last and leaving first. She repaired the shrine where it was needed without fully taking away from its ruined beauty, and always had innovative ideas that bettered our conditions while there. Bernadette on the other hand was our artist, our feeler. She brought a certain light to our shrine, often filling the altar with offerings of flowers or poems, gifts of deep sentimental value that would bring god even the most stoic of gods to their knees. Her emotions were complex, and despite my attempts to learn about her more in depth, it was practically beyond my comprehension and hers. I'd often watch her write, asking what she felt whenever I got the chance. In the end, I was always met with clueless shrugs and apologetic uncertainty. For someone who loved to dissect the emotions of others around her to an absolute T, she was horrible at dissecting her own. Today, I felt a little uneasy due to the subtle tension in the air of the shrine. Connie was a little quieter than usual, trying to distract herself with small trinkets while Birdie didn't take her eyes off her notebook even once... I felt a little left out, tolerating the silence until I ultimately grew impatient, and approached Connie. I would've rather approached Birdie about this, but she was far too non-confrontational and shy in that regard. "Why exactly are you guys acting so strange? You have hardly talked all day." I said a little impatiently, pointing to Connie who put her hands up as if I were holding her at gunpoint. "Easy partner," she said in a cowboy accent, poking my finger away as if to disarm me of my accusative weapon. "We were discussing something last night after we went home. We had another argument about our shrine, and how it should be dedicated to only one God—which makes sense, but also no way I'm worshiping Apollo." Connie crossed her arms and I just waited for her to get to the point. "Uhm, in short-" she continued as she saw my growing irritation, "We want to make a sacrifice." she said the last word a little quietly, as if what she was plotting was illegal. "What?"
I felt all my previous feelings of irritation be melted away and filled in by some uncomfortable sort of dread. I really had hoped they were referring to something simpler, not a straight up sacrifice. But apparently these two were slightly more delusional than I'd originally taken them for...
"What- or who on earth do you plan on sacrificing?" I asked, looking a little more mortified than I intended to, judging by the guilty look on Birdie's face as she averted her eyes to the ground. "Well, I was thinking we could start off with something small," Connie said breezily, though I didn't find anything about sacrifice to be breezy...  "Like what?" I asked in such a hushed tone that my worry became an undeniable factor in my voice. "A goat or something, I don't know..." Connie replied with a careless shrug. "I wasn't really for it." Birdie jumped in a little hastily. "I said we should start off smaller, but she didn't want to." she added with a slight timidity, as if she was silently hoping I wouldn't judge her any more than she thought I did. "So, are you with us?" Connie asked, ignoring her sister's accusation as she offered her hand to me like some sort of leader while Birdie cowered behind her. I'm not sure why, but I felt a little pressured at that moment. These two were the only friends I had, the ones who genuinely liked me for myself. Something entirely unbeknownst to me... By no means was I ready to throw that away over one small death of a goat.
And so, I did the worst thing I possibly could've done, and shook her hand.
If only I'd known the downward spiral this would become...