Sacrificed
Midnight.
A gibbous moon pricked silvery fingers into my room through the opened windows.
Drapes swayed, brushing with gentleness the darkness within.
I tossed and turned on the bed.
Perhaps it was the ingestion of rum, excessive to the point of inebriation.
Inebriation that forced in slumber before time.
Nightmares... always a bad omen... always.
In the distance, drums thumped with rampant cadence to the rhythm of bomba.
It was the night.
The feast was taking place.
Sharp screeches were heard, gradually fading with the last gulp of air, of life exhaled.
A goat was sacrificed.
It kicked and twitched, its blood poured into a cauldron.
Red.
Thick.
Scorching hideous in the cauldron burning in the fire pit.
Singing and dancing naked under the full moon, the women, witches... wore their rosaries.
A blasphemy.
While in the day they recited Psalms only to avoid carimbo and to mock the whip.
A well behaved Christian negra, reserved a night stay in the master's suite.
But that night, was the night of the Bembé and no one ventured outside.
Spirits were summoned, invited to gather the feast,
a feast to celebrate life and death...
More death than life...
And Death crawled extending its mantle of shadows all over the batey,
dragging with it all kind of demons and evil spirits,
in the same way slaves drag their chains.
It wasn't over yet... I knew.
One last sacrifice was needed.
A human sacrifice.
In bed, I covered my face, sweating alcohol, with my tarnished pillow.
My stomach knotted as I knew that in the morning,
it would be one less slave to count during formation,
probably a boy or a virgin girl.
In the distance, women sang again.
Drums broke the harmony, thumping in a faster, frenetical beat.
Parasomnia...
Drumming seemed to get closer.
Louder and louder.
Quicker and quicker.
I feared.
My heart battered in unison against my chest walls.
Pulse rising to my ears deafening me.
When all of the sudden the drums stopped playing and there was silence.
Silence...
Silence...
Death was in the offing, I felt it.
I jerked up to the smack of the door in my room as it opened abruptly.
Amidst the dimness,
I saw three tall and dark figures advanced towards me.
I jumped out of bed, only to trip to the floor.
I was caught!
Lifted by the arms,
I was dragged outside my room... and out my house.
Writhing and twitching I tried to escape,
but I couldn't.
I was tied from wrists and ankles.
Slave women swirled at each side to the rhythm of the rapidly battered drums.
They sang.
They screamed.
Their lips shaped up a wicked smile.
That night there were no masters or slaves.
It was the night of the Bembé...
A sharp, raw iron carved dagger was risen up in the air.
The moonlight reflected on the blade, still dripping fresh blood.
Soon I knew that night is wasn't a boy or a virgin to be sacrificed...
It was going to be me.
***
batey- word in Taino that means yard.
carimbo - branding iron
bembé- rite celebrated in Santeria, and Afro-Caribbean religion.
negra - black woman
YOU ARE READING
I've been Challenged Once, Given Coffee Twice
Short StoryA collection of random pieces, mainly poetry and short stories, created during participating in different contests in Wattpad.
