Sacrifice

• Kangli Hu, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2011

Brilliant sunlight. Brilliant colour....Not so brilliant life.
The sun’s bright rays lit up the grey coffin in fresh yellow. A tall man dressed in white robe knelt down beside the coffin, his hands clasped together, his eyes closed. An upright man stood opposite in rich red uniform. He held a long silver object in one hand and the other arm was raised in a right angle to his head. There was absolutely no sound and nearly no movement. No chirping birds, no inquisitive animals, and apparently no overseeing gods.
It could have been a boring painting apart from one thing: a chubby baby gently tied with pure white cloth to the edges of the coffin. The infant was naked and tiny, a small ball of new life. Compared to the coffin it was not half the width, or a quarter the length. It wiggled happily in place, revelling in the golden sunlight.
Soon the baby stopped moving. The cloth was rubbing against its skin. Pain, in its arms, in its legs. It jerked its right arm back but the cloth cut off the movement. It tried again. The cloth cut deeper. Panic. Panic. Tears. It tried to move this arm again but could not. Its right arm was trapped, completely disabled.
It tried to free its other three limbs. The same process occurred. The white cloth became powerful shackles and tightly bound the infant to the coffin. Several seconds passed. Its face contorted in concentration, then defeat. The baby was trapped. So it cried, the shriek horribly loud against the silence.
These two men ignored it. The white robed man’s arms shook but otherwise remained still. Small miniscule droplets of sweat lined his forehead. One bead formed near his eye, stopped momentarily, and fell down his cheek. Was it a tear?
The red uniformed statue only stood motionless, lifeless.
This lifeless scene continued for eons and ages. The baby cried out a few more times but eventually fell silent. The other two did nothing. The painting was truly dead. The unknown gods were pleased and excited about the immediate future.
Finally, the white man moved. He unclasped his hands and rose off his knees. The baby brightened and gurgled happily. It naively thought it would be freed.
However the white man said nothing, did not smile. It simply stood over the baby and stayed, unmoving, hands clasped again, for a whole minute.
Then the red statue moved. He took out a short, sharp-edged object. The infant was fascinated by this new object. One end was a sharp silver tip while the other was a rounded wooden hilt. The tip curved cruelly outwards, while the hilt formed a soft handguard. The baby happily noted the tip was directed at itself – it would be freed!
The white robed man suddenly moved back and opened his eyes. One more droplet of moisture formed, hesitated, and fell.
The sharp tip followed suit.