Sacrificed

About the author and series.

This book is part of a series, written by IP Spall, consisting of 22 short stories in total. To find out more about this book series or any of IP Spall’s other publications, head to https://linktr.ee/ipspallbooks

Many of these short stories are free, and if you enjoy reading this book, you can even buy a total collection of all the short stories for a low price! Follow the link above to find out more.

This story can be found on Amazon at: https://amzn.to/3csz05Y

An uncomfortable foreword

It has been said that a series of short stories must emanate unexpectedness and a sense of chilling surprise. Such a collection of stories would require a character framework that is present throughout the whole book; from tale to tale, offering the reader a chance to relate to the individual characters — their pain, their horror, their paranoia. Such a collation would also contain an underlying subplot, so all of the stories connect and relate to one another, in a weblike manner, allowing each entry to follow on from the last with some continuity, while still retaining individuality.

I gave this some thought and decided to do the complete opposite. For me, each story should be read as an individual tale of terror, and certainly not as a collective.

Each of my short stories should evoke thought, emotion, and hopefully, leaves the reader wondering what the hell happens next. Let’s face it; not everyone looks for a happy ending in the stories they read. With this in mind, let your imaginations run wild, and enjoy the unpredictability; often an uncomfortable ride.

Sacrificed

With the searing heat and humidity, as well as the thousands of mosquitoes buzzing and biting around them constantly, their imprisonment was unbearable. A foul smell of what they thought was burning hair drifted and lingered just above the village huts, like a morning fog. As the sun lowered and the evening began to encroach, there was a definitive increase in movement; all the occupants of the tribe looked like they were gathering down by the river’s edge. Hundreds of tribesmen and women put themselves to work, building a series of large pyres, and preparing themselves for something, maybe a celebration of some sort. Neither of them had a good view; they couldn’t see clearly through the cracks and holes in the dilapidated old mud hut, which entombed them both. The few places where the mud had dried up and fallen away were the options they had, so through tiny cracks and holes, they both watched on in trepidation, desperately hoping that this wasn’t some ritual or sacrifice for them. Bent over and crouching down, gazing down the hill to the activities, John gently reached out and grabbed Jane’s hand, reassuringly squeezing it tightly. Upon his touch, she momentarily pulled herself away and looked over at him, but he kept to his gaze and didn’t return the look. John had picked up on the fact that he could hear Jane quietly crying to herself, which internally, affected his mood significantly. He made every effort to hide it from her, as he knew he had to be strong for both of them, but the outlook was bleak. He knew just how upset she was, as deep down, he was too.

Minutes felt like hours, as the tribe busied themselves, preparing for the evening festivities. Then, as the sun began to set, a rapturous uproar of noise suddenly filled the river basin. Although darkness was almost upon them, through the small cracks and holes, they got a glimpse of some narrowboats coming up the river; all lit up with torches; the atmosphere within the tribe erupted, bursting into a climatic air of excitement. The drumming started, accompanied by dancing and singing around the edge of the water, as they openly welcomed the visitors. In the light of the torches, they could make out a very different display of colour and tribal-wear. It had to be a neighbouring tribe, they thought, arriving for the evening’s entertainment.

The massive fire stacks were ignited as the party began, but it didn’t end there, as soon after, more boats arrived with another tribe, coming from the opposite direction. Dressed again in very different colours and displays, the sheer volume of people now filled the riverfront with literally hundreds of tribal villagers, vibrantly dancing, and singing, whipping themselves into a frenzied excitement.

Jack and Jane sat down, giving up all hope of escaping. Their rest was, however soon broken, by the noise of footsteps from behind the hut. Jack went to the rear wall and broke off some mud, making another small hole in the wall. Through the darkness, trails of fire lit the way, as another tribe, descended from the jungle above the village. A large number of warrior looking tribesmen, sung and screamed as they entered the village, banging and clanking their weapons in anticipation, as the villagers welcomed them with an exciting rapture. Jane got to her feet and watched, but inside there was nothing but fear and upset, as they both gazed on in silence.

Something hard suddenly hit the door of the hut, making them both jump, they stopped and watched, as the door was flung open. Jane screamed as she ran over to John, positioning her body behind his. Four large warrior men, with bones and spikes sticking out of their faces, barged in and grabbed both of them, forcibly pulling them out of the hut. The villagers that surrounded them cheered, waving spears and stuff in the air, crying out in excitement. The two of them were pulled and dragged down the hill towards the party. They both frantically tried to pull themselves free, but there was no possible way for them to escape.

Slapped and spat on, they were aggressively dragged down to the river’s edge, where they came to a stop. The crowds danced and jeered around them, taunting and mocking them, as they were held fast.

The flames of the pyres burst into raging torrents of fire, going high into the night sky. In the glow the impressive array of headdresses and costumes moved and danced, as the drums pounded harder and faster, creating a far more menacing and scary environment.

The crowds to the left of John opened up, as three large pigs were dragged down to the beachfront.

Kicking and screaming, the crowds again got all too excited, shouting, and singing loudly. As the two of them were forcibly led forward, an ugly tribal elder woman went up to Jane and stood in front of her, far too close. With wooden spikes through both her cheeks and the top half of her face painted bright red; she reached up and grabbed Jane’s blonde hair, taking a fist-full, yanking a clump out. The woman smelt it and then dropped it on the floor. She then reached up and grabbed her dress, yanking it off to one side, exposing her breast. The woman laughed before she slapped it hard. Jane screamed out; with tears openly running down her cheeks, she looked in a real mess.

“Get off her” John shouted out, straining his voice as he shouted so loud. He felt a hard whack on the back of his head, momentarily making him feel dizzy.

The noise of pigs screaming was unbearable, as they were dragged a few meters in front of the foreigners. Jane tried to turn her head but found a set of hands force her face forward, making her watch. Restricted, held fast and in a seated position, the three pigs had their throats split in front of them. The blood was ejected with force, spraying all the bystanders, who seemed to delight in the mess. The same tribal woman, scooped up the blood as it poured out of the screaming creature, as it continued to fight with all its might. She took the vessel over to the foreigners and started to chant something, as she dipped her hands into the put and dragged her hand down the face of both of them. They had now been marked; a thick red line of warm animal blood ran from the foreheads down their faces and necks, and onto their chests. The crowd went mad with excitement; the drums rang out, and the dancing went into a frenzied pitch, as the mass of tribesmen and women danced around them both. Then, as quickly as it started, it all came to an abrupt and sudden halt. The drumming stopped, the villagers stopped moving, and the animals fell limp. An uneasy air of calm suddenly struck. John and Jane stopped and looked, in horror and fear. The evil tribeswoman came before them; she screamed something and threw her arms in the air. Suddenly, the secure grip on their arms was released. Everyone stopped and watched in silence. John looked at Jane, shocked at what was happening, then as quick as he could. He reached over and grabbed her hand; they ran for their lives. The crowds parted; they laughed and cried out, all excited again. As they ran, the villagers cleared their way, leading them along the river, towards the jungle. Without a second to spare, they ran as fast as they could, regardless of how they felt or what obstacles got in their way. They ran for their lives, as quickly as they could. Nothing was said between them, as panic and fear drove them onwards, into the dark and menacing jungle.

It seemed a ridiculous notion to try and get through the jungle in the blackness of night, but it was their only chance, so they just ran for it. Stumbling and falling with nearly every step, they tried their hardest to fight their way through, but it was near impossible. They both cried out in pain, John pulling Jane through the undergrowth, as quickly as much as she’d let him.

They couldn’t see anything, so the speed of their exit rapidly shrunk to a measly clamber, as they fumbled their way through the dense undergrowth in a vain attempt to escape. It wasn’t long before there was a sudden bought of loud drumming that filled the air. The faint spots of light, from where they’d been held, started to move, as the warriors began to leave the riverside in the direction they had gone. With fire torches burning brightly, accompanied by the excited screams of the warriors, the tribesmen started the chase. At first, John and Jane didn’t realise what was happening, as they were putting all their efforts into escaping, but as the warriors gained ground, the panic and fear drove them forward with urgent purpose. It didn’t take long, with the use of light, and knowing the jungle like the back of their hand, the villagers soon caught up. Their last line of defence, in the jet-black darkness of the jungle forest, was to try and hide; they slipped down the back of a fallen tree and kept quiet. The warriors did pass them by, but as a few moved through the jungle near to them, more and more began to appear, eventually flooding the wilderness with a million sets of eyes. The shuffled themselves under the tree as best they could, but it was futile. A piercing scream rang out, as a fiery torch was lowered down to their position. John yanked Janes hand, pulling her the other side of the tree, but as soon as he stood up, he faced a wall of angry-looking men and pointed spears.

Their hearts sank, as hands grabbed at their arms, securing them both at spear points. Then, without warning, a second later they both felt sharp tingling pain at the back of their necks. Both raising hands, each of them pulled out a small dart. With a glance, it was the last thing that they saw, as the light of the torches brightened and intensified. Sleep suddenly rose up, forcing their bodies to fall limp, into the arms of the warriors. A last and sudden rush to the head pushed them both into a state of unconsciousness.

As the two of them were dragged out of the jungle, now tied up, and strapped to long wooden poles, the foreigners were carried back to the river and placed on longboats. The ships gently bobbed along the river with the sounds of drums banging like a heartbeat; somewhere off in the distance, drawing the ships towards the gathering. It wasn’t long before they arrived back at the sandbank; the crowd erupted into mass hysteria, dancing around, waving their spears and weapons, singing, and screaming in excitement again. In a large clearing on the river bank, the two long poles with the foreigners were loosely hanging, unconscious, swinging back and forth, as they were taken to a space located in the centre of the four large fire pyres. The fires now burned with great ferocity, reaching a significant height, lighting the whole forest. The prisoners were brought ashore; a handful of blood was placed on their faces, and a few women proceeded to cut their clothes off. The pole with John came ashore first; the end of his pole was pushed into the pre-dug hole and raised into a vertical position, resembling a crucifixion. Jane followed, located alongside him. They were both now paralysed and unconscious, both supported by ragged vines and ropes, a metre or so above the crowds. Then, from somewhere back towards the village, a louder set of drums began to fill the air with a dense, unnerving beat that echoed throughout the whole jungle first. A hypnotic tribal formation of bets, it brought forward four evil-looking Shamans that began chanting their ancient verse. As the beats intensified, the sacrifice gained momentum. Then, looking up and beyond, four large shadows or silhouettes flickered and moved in the light of the pyres. What could only be described as vast silhouettes of monsters appeared on the jungle canopy around the outer edges of the village? Monstrous and simply colossal, they each moved independently, coming into view, as they had arrived for the sacrifice. The chaos of the crowds continued, many of the villagers now looked like they were in a trance, with sunken pure white eyes, dancing frantically in the burning yellow glow. The chaos of excitement forced the villagers to inflict their feelings onto the foreigners, hitting and spitting at them, dancing around them in time with the drumming.

A man with an evil looking mask, made from Coconut husk and adorned with Peccary tusks, bones and bird feathers, appeared from behind the crowds, as the people slowly parted. He moved gracefully, almost dancing from side to side as he moved towards them. John and Jane were openly weeping, struggling to free themselves, crying, and screaming; but their voices just got lost amongst the noise. The man walked up to John; he yelled at him in an unknown language, angry and upset about something. The Shamen pulled out a sharpened bone, carved into the shape of a knife. Standing only knee height, the man then stabbed the knife deep into John’s kneecap, before he yanked it downwards, in a straight line down the side of his shin-bone, all the way down to his foot, only stopping when the wound was in the centre of the top of his foot. The man turned, jeered, and threw his arms up into the air before he turned and cut his other leg. A young, wild-looking child rushed over with a pot, which he was placed below John, catching the blood as it ran down his legs and the pole. The Shaman then moved over to Jane and did the same procedure.

The tribal man reached back into a basket and grabbed a thick liquid made from what looked like leaves and herbs. He threw a handful at the pair of them, chanting something to himself. It was a foul-smelling viscous liquid; he kept on throwing handfuls of it, slowly covering their whole bodies. The crowds started to join in with the chanting, as they swirled around the hanging bodies and the pyres hypnotically. Next, two old and ugly women appeared, both painted a deep blue colour and adorned with large blue and purple headdresses, they had what looked like large canine teeth from a big cat, sticking out of their bottom lip area. They were dirty, unclean, but the crowd were pleased with their presence. They again chanted to the masses, hitting the pair of them with thin, long sticks, whipping so hard, long red lines marked their bodies. The marks turned to blotches, as the foreigner’s skin reacted to the sticks. As the chanting got louder and more intensive, long thread-like veins seemed to appear from the spots, spreading out on their own, moving like worms, under the skin of each of them. Suddenly, Jane looked to gain consciousness for a brief moment; she lifted her head and suddenly screamed out, an unnatural piercing scream, full of fear and pain. The crowd loved it, as the immense noise of their celebrations lifted the spirits of the gathering. The cry for help soon subsided, as she exerted all her energy into the call. She quickly fell limp again, dropping back onto the supporting ropes.

Two tribal elders, adorned with animal pelts and feathers came forward and started to flick a brown liquid on them both before they quickly dived back into the mass of dancing bodies. As soon as the substance touched their skin, strange red coloured blotches appeared everywhere, rapidly growing and spreading. Slowly but surely small black tendril threads began to climb out of the sand below them, spiralling out around the base of the poles. It slowly rose upwards, rising and twisting and knotting itself around their feet and legs, climbing ever faster in long thin threads of black plastic-looking liquid. Through the fires and smoke the crowd then parted as four young girls, naked and bound were brought forward; adorned with colourful headdresses made from the creatures of the forest, they were brought forward and pushed to the ground. On their knees, in front of the others, their clasped hands hung to their waists. Head tilted back, their glazed white eyes just emphasised their deep trance-like state, drugged up and unaware of the chaos that surrounded them. Tribal leaders came and went; chanting, throwing various liquids while invoking the ancient spirits of the jungle, bringing the sacrificial offerings to ahead.

The crowds lowered their bodies and stopped dancing, watching the two foreigners get consumed by the black liquid. As the drumming continued, the black stuff moved up quickly, twisted and strangling as it went, up past their genitals, moving up their torso’s towards their heads. The drumming continued, intense as ever, driving the liquid in its path.

As the black stuff reached their necks, the four naked girls were then sacrificed before them. Handfuls of hair yanked their heads back, as bone knives quickly sliced through their throats. With surprisingly little resistance, the blood squirting out of the wounds were directed to the base of the poles, as the ground shook below them. The black goo smothered their faces; in a disgusting and dramatic climax to the ritual. As the blood of the girls slowed and finished, the black goo that originated from the sands below, left the ground and rose upwards. As the goo twisted and moved, it didn’t uncover the flesh of the foreigners. Instead, it released thousands of black threads that floated upwards like cotton blowing in the breeze. The drumming continued; slowly, their bodies dissipated into the strands of goo, gliding up the sky, in an inverted gravity pull. Their bodies gradually began to vanish, as the goo left their bodies in a liquid, wavy line above the foreigner’s heads.

As the girl’s bodies fell to the ground, they were quickly removed and tossed onto the pyres; the fires burned a strange iridescent blue colour, which increased the speed of the black stuff, consuming and eating away at the prisoners. The dancing started up again; the villagers fell into a strange singing, shouting type verse, as the remnant of John and Jane’s bodies began to disappear, streaming upwards into the night sky. The drumming, dancing and screaming intensified as the last few patches of their bodies flowed upwards. Then, it all fell silent. A few seconds passed before one of the Shaman came forth. He turned and addressed the crowd, saying something only they knew, then the spells ended. The mass of people seemed to awaken from their trance; the colossal spirits of the forest rose up and departed, as the crowds slowly faded back to their villages and boats.

About the author and series.

This book is part of a series, written by IP Spall, consisting of 22 short stories in total. To find out more about this book series or any of IP Spall’s other publications, head to https://linktr.ee/ipspallbooks

Many of these short stories are free, and if you enjoy reading this book, you can even buy a total collection of all the short stories for a low price! Follow the link above to find out more.

This story can be found on Amazon at: https://amzn.to/3csz05Y