A Damned Sacrifice

The Wedding Band

A baying began in the East, rising in sound even before the sun's first glow touched the horizon. The compact buildings on either side of me, a city in themselves, stirred in unease. The textured concrete almost seemed to sag in pain, as little pinpricks of bullets cracked through the facade. In front of me stood another such building, less worn than its neighbours. My stride decided the damnation of my fate, and even without those behind me, I could not have stopped myself. The pounding in my chest was slow and steady. It should have been racing, my steady hands should have been shaking and clammy, my slow breaths should have been short and desperate.

Jewish flesh – enemy flesh – flooded the stairways. All around there were men women and children – demons in disguise. The fear they showed was an act, the screams they voiced were of vicious joy at the blood soaking my boots. I should have been weary and disgusted, but powerful emotions had possessed me, as evil as they said the Jewish were. Temptation sung her seduction to me, bringing me closer to the satanic worshipers we had been ordered to evacuate. All around me was a cloud of evil, spread by those who looked so like us. The ice in my chest began to crack, those dark emotions intensifying as the dark flames burned the glacier withing from the inside out.

But everything froze, my now pounding heart, by now desperate breaths, my now clammy palms. A little angel crowned in gold stared at me from a time before, before all the death and pain, before the separation, before the hate. She stared at me with innocent love, wrapped in a crimson so bright it was lamb's blood. When I stared into the summer warmth of her gaze, the last of my hope shattered. Then grew, blooming with a determination I had not felt for months. Suddenly I could see tow little angels dancing on the lawn again, two little gazes of summer, two little smiles of innocent hope and love. And to the side, standing strong and supportive, a dark beauty that I dared not even dream of anymore. I saw a vision so real I knew I had to make it happen.

I followed the angel on a daze, falling in rank around the assembly of enchantresses and witches with that tiny sunbeam in the middle. Beside her stood a darker woman, with eyes I knew would never look at me again, never forgive or love me again. But then they did. They burned with the holy fire our priest said could never be in a Jewish woman, a love so blinding for the child in her arms. But no hate for me.

The sorceresses around her moved apart, their flood parting as if she were God's messenger. Her skeletal features were gaunt, but graceful with a heavenly glow. Her eyes arrested my own, pulling me deeper and deeper. They held no pain or fear, and though there was anger for my comrades, her eyes said they did not hate me. They held a dark promise, a foreboding and a powerful hope. They held love and anguish, anger and finality. They held a humourless smile that was encircled by a golden band for just one moment as the item spun through the air. The gold I had put on her dainty finger in front of both Rabbi and Priest, vowing to do what I had failed. As they faded, those e, those eyes embedded themselves into the darkest corner of my burning heart, the red that bloomed on my chest the twisting pain of a serrated blade into my own, the falling metal shells a haunting melody I would never forget.

As I focused on hiding my pain, I stared at the dull wedding band, still spinning on the rough cobblestones. And in the corner of my eye, I saw the red coat of my little angel disappearing in the crowds, unseen and unnoticed to everyone. As all other colour faded away, I vowed to complete my wife's dying request. By the wedding rings I wore, I promised to every great power to protect the last angel.