It was a windy evening. The turbulent winds blew the wind here and hither, causing the dust and sand to scatter in the atmosphere.
The sun had just set behind the horizon.
In front of what seemed to be a small structure, a group of people stood. They all wore cloaks or headgears to cover their faces from the onslaught of dust. Both men and women, all standing in front of the structure.
Their number was quite large, about five hundred and fifty people. And they all stood gazing in front, where the structure was. There were chatters and murmurings, and if one looked closely the person would realize that they all looked grim. There were also no children there. Everyone there was adult.
The structure was actually a shrine, and a bunch of monks came out. They were looking lanky and unkempt. Their hairs were covered fitly by turbans, and their beards looked like they were never shaven.
"All right, calm down", said one of them, his expression was grim and serious," the Reverend is about to speak".
The other monks stood behind the one who spoke, with their hands in front in a deferential manner. Immediately, the noise and chatter died down. A very elderly man dressed in white cloth stood forward, and from the way the other monks were acting, it was quite obvious that he was the Reverend.
The people gathered even had more worried looks, like their worst nightmare was coming to fruition. They had shaken expressions, both men and women. The Reverend spoke up.
" Good day to you all, lovely citizens of Rhakamaichi. I believe you're all aware of the reason you are here. But for precautionary purposes, I'll simply state it clearly."
He cleared his throat, those listening swallowed. There was a pindrop silence at the place. The silence was ... loud.
Satisfied with the reactions, he continued.
"Hundred years ago, there was a large scale war that displaced lots of people. That war was referred to as the Apocalygdon. It was intense, it was catastrophic, it was.... HELLISH. No one really knows the full details of that war, but all we know is that it began in the east. People had to run for their dear lives, and humanity displayed an intense animosity towards their fellow kind.
"What we do know is that, a group of displaced, homeless and battered people found themselves in this desert continent. They despaired and lost hope, since they had lost everything. BUT..... unwilling to give up, they decided to start afresh.
"However, the odds were not looking good for them. After all, how are they to gain food and water in this godforsaken desert....
The wise said and oh do I believe it, that when there's a will, there's a way. They were desperate. Nothing agricultural thrived in this land. Alas, they could not afford to migrate.
They set up this shrine, and promised their god that they were going to sacrifice a teenager for it, and annually. In exchange, it should grant them rains and fertile soils.
"As ridiculous as it sounded, they killed the first teenager- Arismodeus- and used him for the Noble cause. The god did not fail. The rains came and the ground yielded harvest. This was just..... inexplicable.
After that, it became a tradition among our tribe, the Rhakamaichians, to sacrifice a teenager every year for the good cause of the city."
After the long speech which he delivers every single year, he motioned to his men. Knowing what to do, the monks quickly nodded. Then they brought a huge pan. They carried it to the front of the people, then set it down. And it was quite surprising that these lanky monks could carry the pan.
" All right, as you know, we're going to release a clover. If it falls in your hands, I'm sure you know what it entails."
That sentence made the people shudder in fear. How could they not? After all, everyone wanted to live and see the growth and success of their children. They wanted to be taken care of by their children. Then after, when death comes knocking on their door, they'll get buried by their children. A parent's worst nightmare therefore, is to see their children die.
They all wished with all their heart that they didn't get the clover.
When the Reverend looked at them, he couldn't help but feel amused.
'Humans are funny creatures. We claim we are one, but deep down lies a tremendous selfishness. Fancy all these people wishing and praying so hard to not receive the clover not giving a damn about the others.....ehem, as a monk I'm not supposed to be using cuss words.', he thought.
"Okay everybody, please outstretch your hands, the clover is about to be released."
The people gulped, and they could feel their stomach twist into a knot. A hollow feeling wrapped them as the moment of Truth approached. But they did as they were told. When everyone had outstretched his hands, the monks shot out the clover. It sailed in the night sky, over the heads of the anxious people beneath. The suspense was painful, and the moment felt surreal.
Suddenly it began to descend. As it passed by people, their fears were reiterated. Hearts were thumping, people were forlorn. But the clover kept sailing.
" Sh*t!!! Why does it feel like the clover is headed for me?", murmured one man, worry clearly drawn on his face.
"Love, don't say such things.", chided his wife, who looked equally worried.
Soon, their worries were confirmed when the clover settled in the palm of the man. The moment felt like it was in slow motion. The couple stood there, frozen to their stupor, shocked and at a loss. This felt like a very heavy slap to them.
'Shit!!!', cursed the man under his breath, "What wrong did I do to deserve this? Why me?!".
By now his wife had fallen on her knees and was weeping. Meanwhile, her husband was standing there with a savage expression, like he had gone mad, while staring at the clover.
"Is this a joke because I'm not laughing?!", he swore.
Those around began to offer condolences, but it wouldn't take a detective to know that they were more relieved than sympathetic. Anger the man never knew engulfed him. He nearly snapped,nearly. Because he got a hold of himself and visibly calmed. How could he feel annoyed at the culture? The schtick?
Even though it was painful, but it was all part of life. And his son's death would help the whole city.
The man tried to find a way to console himself. Nonetheless, he decided to follow the norms and turn his son in to the monks to be sacrificed. He raised his wife and placed his hand around her. She sank to his chest and began to cry, because she was really traumatized.
The man could only pat her shoulders and watch her cry...