Short Skates: Stone


I | II | III | SSI | IV | V | SSII | SSIII | VI | VII | SSIV
VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | SSV | XIII | SSVI | XIV | SSVII | XV | SSVIII | XVI | XVII


This instalment contains graphic violence.

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Despite her reluctance, they worshipped her.

She came one day out of the waste, borne on wheeled feet. Her eyes burned bright like the Sun. She was clothed in pelts, feathers hanging from her hip. Every day, they brought her what they could – fat from hunted beasts, sweet fruits. They feared her, but they followed her relentlessly.

She was beautiful and frightening. She did not require food, nor sleep, nor sex.

She accepted their offerings, but protested that she did not need them. They followed her where she went, and where she went, wondrous things seemed to happen.

She lived in a small tent made from animal hides and sticks. In its centre burned a sacred fire, and through the hides, her silhouette could always be seen, sitting upright or in repose. She was always silent, always patient, always meditating.

One day, a man stood, and said he would claim her as his bride. He fought five other men to get to her, then entered her lodgings, presenting himself to her, informing her that she would bear him ten sons.

Before he had even made his advance, she had already torn him to strips of flesh. She emerged from the lodging, his bloody bones clutched in her arms. She told the others to burn his flesh. She had no need for it.

After that, no other man attempted an approach.

Repeatedly, she told them, in their tongue: “Not-true-that I is-a-goddess.”

And yet, to be in her presence was to know the making and unmaking of the world. A mere stare made men and women cringe and fear that she would devour them. But she never did.

She asked her priestesses why they offered her meat and fruit, and they said it was to sate her hunger. She asked them why they thought she was hungry, and they said it was because she looked pale and sickly. She asked them why they thought she was pale and sickly, and they said it was because she was as thin and frail as a corpse.

She asked them to leave her alone. She was waiting for something. They asked her what she was waiting for. She told them that she was waiting for the world to be born. They asked her, was the world not yet born? She told them that the world had once died, and many years from now, she would make it right.

The priestesses listened to her prophecy. Soon, they said, the world would end, and death would surely consume the world, if not for the intervention of the goddess.

They continued to make offerings, in hope that the goddess would smile upon them and protect them. The goddess only scoffed. She told them that she could not save them from death. They would be long dead when the time came that she must act.

She did not heal the sick, even at times when disease ripped through the tribe, killing old and young alike. Only watched and waited. It was as it must be, she said, even when they begged her to call off the sickness. Not-true-that I is-a-goddess. Is-true-that I am all that I am.

One night, the priestesses were making their offerings, adding firewood, and saying prayers to her, as she sat, weary and indifferent.

The air grew warm, disturbing air currents that made the sacred fire shiver and go out.

A shaft of golden light appeared, shimmering in the air. The goddess observed it with curiosity and fear. She seemed almost bewildered by its presence.

It spoke in a language that none in the room could understand, with the exception of the goddess. She spoke to it, too, in a language that could only be the language of the gods. Yet, none of the sounds were recognisable enough to be retained in memory.

The goddess gazed at the priestesses and, with a commanding look, told them not to return to that place until the next full moon.

Fearful that they might end their lives in the belly of a goddess, the priestesses fled.

They went to consult with the tribal council, and all agreed without discussion. They would return at the next full moon.

For many weeks, her dwelling stayed quiet. A circle was drawn around it, and all kept their distance. Children were warned not to stray into the circle, old men stumbled around it. Offerings were left just inside the circle, but they were left to sit and rot.

When at last the full moon was sighted once more, the priestesses stepped tentatively inside the circle, weeping and moaning for fear.

All their offerings had been refused. The fire had not been reignited. Had they done something to offend? If so, would this prove deadly?

Quietly, they entered, and found the dwelling of the goddess dark – dark and empty.

Where the goddess usually sat on the earth, there was only a divot, a place where she once was and now was not.

They searched for her, expecting there to be some test.

There was no test, only a horrible truth.

The goddess was not there.

After a great many hours, they were forced to conclude that the goddess had indeed abandoned them – worse, it seemed she had abandoned the world.

There was no other explanation: The prophesied time had come.

The priestesses relayed this to the tribal council. For this, the council had them all hanged and disembowelled. For they had failed to please the goddess, and now she chose to punish them by abandoning the world, casting it into the abyss.

The rains began. Plants started to die off. Animals hid themselves in burrows. Famine set in.

A wise man told the council that they had killed the holy women, and now they were all being punished.

The council had him stoned to death for his insolence.

After many weeks, the rains stopped, and the earth and mud dried into a layer of impenetrable rock in which nothing grew. All the fruit had rotted from the constant moisture, and eating its bitter pulp caused terrible stomach pains, agonising vomiting and loose stools, followed by swift and undignified death.

It was clear that the end of days had come. Soon there was nothing to eat but mud. Mud filled the stomach, but it brought with it terrible lethargy that led to slow death.

As things became desperate, people began to weep and gnash their teeth. The council were blamed for the blight. Many fled, never to be seen again.

Of those who fled, some formed new tribes, some of which succeeded, the majority of which collapsed.

Others chose to remain until the bitter end.

One night, the council awoke to the smell of burning. They realised all too soon that a torch had been thrown into their sleeping-place. They burned alive where they lay, screaming.

None of them ever saw the goddess again. They only carried with them the memory of what came in the wake of her passing. They told their children stories of fire and blood.

And so it was that humanity entered its adolescence.


Another time, another place…


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Illustration created using elements of an image by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

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ARC FOUR: BLOOD MOON
I | II | III | SSI | IV | V | SSII | SSIII | VI | VII | SSIV
VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | SSV | XIII | SSVI | XIV | SSVII | XV | SSVIII | XVI | XVII