Salvation

• Robert Doherty, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2014

Alice and I struggled from our rapidly sinking vessel onto the tiny island. We followed a rough dirt path uphill. Rounding a bend, a cluster of rudimentary buildings came into view. Some leant out over the water, while others stood in the waves themselves.
The path continued through the town, then further uphill. I couldn’t see the path’s end, but knew it went all the way up. At the first building, I knocked.
An aged woman stepped from the shadows within.
“Come in. We’ve not seen a traveller in many a year. You’re most welcome.” A strange glee filled her voice.
Stepping aside, she shut the door behind us. The room was truly dark, but soon a lamp flared to life.
We were led to two rickety chairs. We sat, but the woman did not sit with us. Instead, she turned, walking away into the shadows, taking the lamp with her.
“Wait!” I called out to her. She did not respond, and I stood to go after her but saw that she had left the room entirely. I darted over to the entrance, trying the handle many times without luck. Frustrated, I returned to my seat.
So we remained, until I heard a noise at the door. Perhaps the woman had returned at last.
My hopes were quickly dashed. Instead of the lone woman, a line of people entered. Two broke off from it and efficiently bound our hands.
“No! Why are you doing this?” I cried out.
There was no answer. Instead, we were brought to a second door, unnoticed until now. The procession moved through this door as a strange chant began. They marched us back to the path, and we began the long climb up the hill. This trek went on for an eternity, going forever upwards. I had no idea of where we were, my vision entirely hemmed in by people.
As we neared our destination I heard the sound of water growing louder as we trod. Coming to a halt, the people around us fanned out, pushing us forwards. We had reached the top of the hill. Before us, a wooden platform leaned over the cliff’s edge. We were pushed towards it. I peered down to see what was making the terrible sound, and saw my destiny.
A great whirlpool. I lurched back, but the people crushed against us. Suddenly, a voice of authority rose above the chanting. An old man with a staff was speaking to the people. A cheer erupted from them.
He raised his hand, and they calmed temporarily. Then he addressed us.
“We are the Kanag Taro. You shall be sacrificed to our god Kanagroll. Your passing shall bring about our people’s Salvation. You will be honoured.”
“What? Hey, no! Don’t do that!”
The people behind us surged as one and pushed us, over the edge and into the sea. We plunged down, down into the jaws of their great god, and were never heard from again.