The Sacred Torch

• Daivik Bose, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2022

It was pouring in the forest. Thunder crashed in the distance. I ran into the shade of a huge banyan tree. In the distance, I saw a faint light. I sprinted towards it. Following the light, I saw that it was inside an uninhabited cave. Putting my bag down, I laid on the floor and was out like a light.

I woke up hanging midair. People in barbarous and tasteless costumes were standing around me and chanting. A man with a feather crown bent over me. He seemed to be the chief. Everyone had colourful patterns drawn on their faces making them look menacing. Each of them had some sort of weapon. As they moved, their beaded jewelry made a rattling sound. There was something familiar about their trinkets, necklaces and earrings but in my fearfully numb senses, I could not make out.

I shouted desperately, ‘’I am not here to hurt you!’’

The boisterous chanting suddenly stopped. The whole cave went silent. I could hear my heart thumping inside my chest. The chief turned to his men and boomed some gibberish

“Wo ga khete buli feast hi feast hi”.

What feast? I tried to ignore it, but a dark thought was growing in the back of my mind. Were they going to eat me? I finally discerned their jewelry were made of bones! I flailed my limbs hopelessly trying to free myself. My heart skipped a beat when I realized I was tied to the spit. The chief held out a torch with a blazing flame towards me. The crimson-blue flame jumped up trying to roast, char and broil my flesh. I screamed but no sound came out of my parched mouth. I squeezed my eyes tight and clenched my fists. Sweat poured down my face. I heard,

“Feast! Feast! Feast!”

Finally, I was freed and dropped straight hellward into the malicious dazzling flame. The fire did not touch me! My eyes bulged out of their sockets. I could see the cavemen right though the dancing flame. I sat scintillating in the devouring smokeless pit ablaze like an incandescent tinder! I was flabbergasted. Was death so painless? Am I in heaven? My thoughts were blurred and my head was dizzy.

The crowd knelt and put their hands together. Their chanting stopped and they gaped at me in silence. The whole tribe bowed with reverence. I stood up unscathed, pale and confused. Tears poured from the chief’s eyes and he started blabbering in gibberish. Before I could respond, he handed me the sacred torch with the blazing flame and put his feather crown on my head.

From that day on, I became the head of this rowdy, barbaric tribe. I have learnt their language and can tell you what the chief told me that day: “We have an ancient prophecy here. It says that the one who can evade the fire lit by the sacred torch shall be the chosen one. He will lead us to glory.‘’