SACRIFICE
snuff f   gut

   The post was there waiting for her. It had not changed in her lifetime but now it radiated a menace she had never noticed. Yes, she had watched as others had stood where she was now, had watched as their blood had stained the stone pavement under the post, and had joined in the ceremony marking the sun’s longest day. She had even envied those girls who had such an important part in insuring the favor of the gods, they had seemed to her to be truly blessed. 
  The rich robes were heavy and hot, woven of the finest fleece of the alpaca and lama they were then covered with many, many feathers of  brilliant birds. Under the robes she wore only a simple shift and loincloth made of the purest white. A junior priest stood on each side of her, lightly holding her hands and upper arms. Were they there to support her or to insure her cooperation? A high priest invoked the names of the gods and beseeched their blessing and aid for the coming year. She listened as he promised them a gift from those who asked their aid, a gift pure and clean, a gift that willingly gave of itself that the people would prosper, a gift that would serve them for all time but would never age or fail to please.  
   The shadow of the post fell across her feet, it was time. The rich robes were removed from her as she was led forward to the stone table in front of the post. Helped up to stand on it where she was shown to the assembled throngs. A low murmur swept the crowd, truly she was a worthy gift to send. Her shift and loincloth were cut off with a glass knife and she stood there, young, virgin, beautiful. Now she lays down on the table. In the shadow of the post her hands and feet are held by priests as the senior of them also strips and climbs between her legs. She cries out in pain as she submits to the test. The blood leaking from around his member proves her worthiness as the gift. Once more she is stood so all can see the virgins blood as it runs down her legs. With shaky legs she makes her way to the post. The sun is almost to the zenith, it is now that the gift must be offered.
   The straps holding her to the post are made of the softest leather but easily ignore her best efforts at movement. One across her forehead, two holding her shoulders, one on her thighs, and one at her knees. Her arms are behind her, elbows tied together behind the post. Just for a moment she is left standing there. A vision of captive loveliness, young breasts forced up and out by her bonds, body shined by her sweat , the soft light colored straps standing out over her tanned body. The fear rises in her. She reminds herself that this is the highest honor she ever could receive. That her family and her city are dependent on the good will of the gods. The good will she will ask them for when she sees them after the ceremony. The senior priest has replaced his robes. Just before her eyes are covered by a hand she catches a glimpse of the knife, scalloped glass edges catching the light. Yes the gods were here and were waiting for her. Their light was in the tool that would end her life and launch her sprit on its mission.
   All wait until the shadow touches a mark incised in the stone terrace. At that point the priest gives the blessing and the knife begins its task. Sharper than any razor it slips easily through the brown skin just above her pubic bone.  At first it feels cold then as the wound opens the pain starts. Slicing easily through her skin, muscles, and organs it travels upward. The sawing motions allow the serrated edge to part anything it comes into contact with. The wound grows until just below her breastbone the knife is removed from her body. Frozen by the shock and pain she stands there for just the briefest time before the freed organs slide from her belly. The hand covering her eyes is taken away. Even with her head strapped  to the post she can look down at the pile of guts laying at her feet. As she opens her mouth to scream a ball of raw rubber is forced into it. There will be no screams to mar the ceremony. All that is left for her is pain and death. She had always admired the bravery of the other girls, the ones who stood strong and silent with the massive wound in their bellies.  Now too late she has learned the truth. She is also standing tall and silent with her death wound in her belly but there is no bravery. The pyre is lit for her. She feels the tugging as her guts are picked up, cut free from her body and carefully laid on the burning pile. Her end is near now. The shock and blood loss causes her vision to darken. The agony that just seconds ago filled her fades. Bright white light fills her. One or two last gasps of air and she surrenders to the inevitable. Death claims her. The ceremony is almost complete. The priest blesses both her and all present. Her body is cut down and carefully placed on the burning pyre along with her robes and straps. The knife is thrown down and broken. The sun shines brightly as the shadow moves slowly past the mark. One more year will be good, all is well.