Bringer

by James O'Connor

Running down the mountain with fire in his hand, how his eyes blazed in the darkness. Oh, his laughter as he burned, flames growing up his arm with a thousand vicious Gods coming just behind. He was two legs and charcoal when he finally brought the gift to town. Now his name would live forever. Elders would build a temple and for generations choose the prettiest child to put upon the pyre. What though is sacrifice if it doesn't leave an immortal offering behind?

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James O'Connor is a writer, actor and director living on the edge of New England. He blogs here.