Sacrifice for Moron Festival (A Short Story)

I tried to make out a path in the dark as I ran as fast as I could. Occasionally, I would stare at my phone to see if the call had connected. I was trying to reach a friend who was supposed to stay around. He was my only hope.

Just as soon as the call connected, I tripped over a tree stump and fell. Immediately, I felt a sharp pain in my right thigh. i didn’t have the time to nurse my wound. I picked myself up and bent to look for the phone. When I located it under a low shrub, it was switched off and broken. My only hope of calling for help was gone.

I was about to slump on the ground when I heard the sounds of the men chasing after me. Instinctively, I picked myself up and started limping as fast as I could. Just then, I remembered that my roommate had advised me to remain in the hostel. Only that afternoon, he had informed me of the Moron Festival and the locals’ demand for secrecy. The Moron Festival was a local festival that was celebrated once in seven years and for seven days in honour of the Moron Snake. The Moron Snake was the ancestral snake and also the god of the locals.

“John,” My roommate Greg had begged, “I don’t want you to go out today. I just discovered from Simba, whose parent live in the town, that today is the final and most important day of the Moron Festival. They plan to carry out some rituals and sacrifice. Please remain in the hostel. You can always pick up your phone tomorrow.”

I didn’t listen. I insisted that I was going to get my phone back that evening. After all, I was a foreign student. Why was I expected to be on under the law of primitive locals and their superstitious customs. So I left the hostel and went into the town.

My plan was simple. I would go straight to the phone repairer’s shop, retrieve my phone and return immediately to the hostel. However, things didn’t go as planned. By the time I arrived at the bus park after retrieving my phone, the last bus had left; no thanks to my insistence on getting my full balance. I tried to get a lift but no one would stop for me. Everyone was in an haste to either get out of town or return to their homes. The hostel was a long way from town so I couldn’t attempt to walk it. I decided to call Greg for help.

Greg told me to call Simba. He informed me that Simba had left the hostel to spend the weekend with his parents. He then described a bush path that would take me directly to Simba’s parent’s house. I had no alternative so I tried to follow the locate the bush path. It turned out that I had taken a wrong turn. I stumbled into a group of men who were about to offer sacrifices. One of them saw me and that was how the chase began.

The increasing sound of voices broke me out of my reverie. I looked around but I could see no one. I tried to run faster but the pain in my thigh keep on increasing. I slowly moved to the trunk of a large tree and braced myself for a fight. I promised myself that I wouldn't go down easily. Soon I began to hear voices all around me. The men were speaking in the local language which I didn’t understand. I rested my back and waited for them to appear.

I suddenly heard movement to my right. I turned to look if someone was then when I was hit from behind. I woke up in what seemed like an instant. I looked around expecting bushes and trees. Instead, I was in a well furnished bedroom. It was then I felt the pull on my wrist. I was firmly tied to the bed.

As I laid on the bed, contemplating my fate, the door opened and a fair-complexioned burly bare-chested man walked in dangling something long and a bit curvy. I looked very well and noticed it was a snake. A snake! My heart began to race. I tried to free myself of the ropes while the man simply dropped the snake on the floor and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. The snake that was small and easy to handle began to swell and grow longer. It began to move towards me, each second making it bigger and bringing it closer to the bed. Soon, its head was right on the bed.

It was green with black spots and had very long fangs. It avoided my frantic kicks and slowly came straight for my face. As it came closer, I screamed: “Oh God! Help! Somebody Help! Please help! I promised to return Greg’s SBD. I will never engage in phishing again. Help!” in one fell swoop, the snake lunged on my face.

…...

The sharp pain I felt like hot coals had been poured on my face. I woke up to see the TV sill on, with a fair-complexioned burly man handling snakes. I turned and saw Jimmy holding a stick in his hand, his patience obviously growing thin.

“So you stole my SBD? My hard earn SBD that I had been saving for weeks? Why?” He demanded.

In spite of the pain on my cheek and Jimmy’s demand, I looked around the room. It was only a dream. A dream! I turned to Jimmy and smiled.

That earned me a sharp visit from the stick.

The end.

I wrote this story about three years ago. I think I had it published on one of my many blogs at the time. Anyway, I did a little make over, including the SBD part. (What was there originally was a sum of money.) I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading

Blessings

[image source: Pxhere]