The Chronicles of Esther
1
I take the knife from my cloak and hold it to the sun. The light dances on the blade. It captures my gaze and holds me entranced. The sky is blue, so blue. I slash my arm across its length, the stinging bliss.
My blood, my life trickles from the wound. It flows across my arm. It drops to the earth and stains it red. The dead cracked earth. My silent prayer rises to the sky. Amaleeka? There is nothing, only silence. Neither my blood nor my tears will bring his blessing. The rain god forsakes us. I am Esther, my people are the Eshii. Our father is the rain god.
He brings us rain so that the earth will drink and in return bring us sustenance. Since the time of my mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother. Amaleeka preserves us. Our land was rich. We were prosperous, we were his chosen.
But now the rain god is silent. The rain will not come. The earth is dead and will bear us no fruit. The people starve and the children die. I am the last of his priests, there are no more. He hears not our prayers, nor our cries for nourishment. I am helpless.
I have looked to the most sacred texts. I have sat in the desert, the sand flaying my skin. For days in prayer. I have gone without water and food in the hopes my suffering would be heard and answered.
There was no answer. The people grow angry , they turn to false idols. This cannot be allowed! I must restore their faith, no matter what the cost. Aiyelah, it can only be her. Forgive me. I drag her into the desert. I have no other choice. She screams as I drag her by the hair. Will you not stop me?
She begs, she pleads. I weep this is what I have become. This is what you demand of me, your chosen. My knife is in my hand. Her voice falls silent but her eyes plead. Look what you have forced me to do. I mouth the words “I’m sorry.” The blade slices open her belly. The blood, so much blood. She looks at me with those eyes as her child falls to the ground.
Its tiny arms, reaching to the sky. She dies reaching to her unborn. I weep freely. More blood, more tears. Is this not enough? I leave her in the open for the buzzards. I did this all for you.
I have become a butcher yet he will not hear me. We are lost. The people blame me. They decide my death will bring the rain god’s return. They bind me to a wooden stake. Even now? Even now you will not come? They throw straw at my feet. Will you not save me? The oil pours over my hair and face. It drips into my eyes.
The father of Aiyelah steps forward. He’s holding a torch. There is nothing to say to him. She died for nothing. Her child died for nothing. I am done. Their cries of madness drown out the sound of the flames devouring my body. I do not scream. I murdered a child for you. My eyes boil, my skin is ash, my hair is molten embers.
I lived ONLY for you! Now I curse your very name! Show yourself to me! And then I hear it. It is not what I have prayed for. It is not the blessings of my father. It is so loud it shakes the ground and even the people shake from their insanity to writhe in fear. It is the last thing I ever hear. Laughter, horrible mindless laughter. Then I am dead.
