Sacrifice

• Abigail Arrage, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

Leslie sat watching the fading embers of the flames in the fireplace, his wrinkled hands lay in his lap. There was a sharp rap on the door, a maid hurried to it, and unbolted it shakily. A hooded figure stepped in. The maid proceeded from the room, and the man’s eyes fell on Leslie.
“Good day, sir, sorry to inconvenience you, but the matter I present you with is urgent,” he said firmly. “In one day you will accompany me to my kingdom, where you will stay forever.”
Leslie stared at the sinister, shadow-like man standing before him.
“No.”
The man was taken aback. He had never been rejected so plainly.
“Very well,” the man whispered menacingly, “but someone else will be sacrificed.”
And then he was gone.
For the first few minutes, Leslie just sat there, still. He silently observed the empty space in the room where the man had disappeared like a wisp of smoke into thin air.
He disregarded the fear brewing in his stomach and, tired, slid into unconsciousness.
The next morning Leslie was woken by the sound of a young child squealing in delight and soon the girl was embracing him adoringly. He smiled lovingly towards his granddaughter. The young girl was the only part of his cold, meaningless life that brought comfort and compassion.
That day his lively granddaughter kept Leslie busy, frolicking around the spotless manor and travelling around the small town in which he lived, chatting endlessly to her Pop about every topic imaginable. Leslie was solaced by her presence, but throughout the day was reminded of the man who had visited him yesterday, and his chilling words.
“Pop,” she said as they roamed the marketplace near his home, “what happens when you die?” Leslie stared at the girl, perplexed.
He answered hesitantly. “Well, I’m not sure…but you still have years before you have to find out,” he replied vaguely, before stepping into a carriage to travel home.
Whilst on the passage home, Leslie recognised the silhouette of the hooded figure amid the bustling streets and quickly asked the carriage chauffeur to halt. Leslie paced towards the silhouette, trying to grasp it, but all his hands caught was air and the words of the shadow flooded through his body, “Someone else will be sacrificed.”
Leslie turned towards the carriage, eyes wide with fear.
His granddaughter was petting one of the horses drawing the carriage, a chestnut coloured mare which she had named ‘Nut’ on her last visit. Leslie watched as the horse’s calm eyes became clouded, before letting out a deafening whinny, rising onto its hind legs and trampling the young girl. Leslie held his head, sobbing violently, vision blurred, as he ran to her lifeless body. His only light was gone forever. It didn’t make sense. Nut was one of the gentlest horses in his stable and loved the girl dearly. Unless… suddenly he understood.
Other forces had been at work, forces the hooded man had commanded.
She was the sacrifice.