Blood Moon

Prologue - The Blood Moon Ceremony

Prologue

The Blood Moon Ceremony

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  The red judgmental moon hangs full and high in the night sky, its yellow forgiving sister is nowhere to be found.

  The winds beat down upon the procession of five women walk slowly up the mountain steps. Towards an altar that has stood for generations above the town, stealing the macabre musical notes before they have a chance to be heard.

  Today there will be judgment. Today there will be death, for nothing is allowed to survive that does not adhere to the true form.

  Some walk proud and strong, confident their offering will survive this trial where so many others have failed. Others are less so, but still they follow with their offerings tucked away hidden from the wind.

  But one... one is looking fleetingly around, looking for a friendly face or a way to escape, for she has been here before and knows the outcome.

   As she passes through the waiting crowd you can almost taste her fear, hear her silent wails of desperation for what will surely be yet another loss. This will be her fourth judgment though she has passed none.

   As the final woman passes, the crowd fills in the procession gap and walks towards the meeting place. Sealing off all avenues of escape.

   Some feel pity, for they too had been judged and found wanting, they understand the women's fear and loss. Others, the zealots, wait eagerly with almost fevered delight for the suffering to follow.

   The procession stops in the shelter of the naturally formed henge. The sudden silence is as deafening as the roaring winds had been.

  Standing in the center of the clearing behind the stone sacrificial altar stand five cloaked figures. The tallest figure takes a step forward and clears his throat.

   "We are gathered here today, on the day of judgment to apprise these new members of our community."

   He waits for the sporadic applause to die before starting again. "We all know the growing trials that have affected our little community."

  He waits a moment as his words echo off the stones around the group, "Only the known is safe! Only the known is acceptable! We cannot let these abominations be allowed to grow!"

   He slams his fist against the cold unforgiving surface of the altar, "They can not be allowed to steal our resources! Corrupt our way of life! Bring forth the first offering so they may be judged!"

   At the flick of his wrist the first woman approaches, she unwraps her bundle and lays it proudly upon the high altar. 

  The smallest figure approaches pushing back her dark hood revealing hard, cold eyes, framed by a face wrinkled with time. Her bony fingers slowly prod the infant's fleshy skin, a howl of protest comes from the child but he is ignored. Slowly he is examined from head to toe, front to back till in end the crone lifts him high above her head and a cheer erupts from the crowd.

    The father steps proudly forward to accept his son lifting him into the air shouting "Isaiah!"

   Another is offered and found acceptable. Then it is the nervous woman's turn. She tries to push the next mother to go before her, but this is not how the ceremony works. Position is dictated by order of birth; still she tries to stall until someone rips the bundle from her arms and places in the open.

   A gasp is heard throughout the crowd as they all can plainly see the large angry purple mark that covers the child's torso and right leg.

   A haunting scream erupts from the mother as she falls to the floor, inconsolable. She does not notice when a man turns his back to her and the abomination but others do.

   It's fate is sealed, and so is her's.