She managed to convey a deep distain with just a casual shrug of her slim shoulder. Glittering golden eyes fringed with too long lashes slowly swept the crowd, red lips slightly parted to show perfectly aligned white teeth. The slight sneer on her face showed no trace of fear as the crowd before her moved rhythmically to the beat of the drums.
As if on cue she raised both arms outstretched to the mob in front of her. Instantly all went quiet. Slowly the people parted to make way for the misshapen figure who stumped his way through the crowd toward the figure on the dais. His gnarled gray hair fell in tangled rope braids around his squat body as he walked forward with the aid of a cane. Those closest slunk back unwilling to look upon those unseeing milky white eyes.
But Yawara was not scared though she had every reason to be. Every year one village girl was selected to appease Gojan, the spirit who dwelt in the forest, thereby assuring the well being of the tribe. She had always known it was to be her and she was prepared. As the shaman approached, Yawara rose to her full height and stared down at the grotesque priest who approached her.
Blind though he may be he had the inner sight his occupation required. He had performed this ritual many, many, time but this time was different and his pace faltered as he neared the platform. Yawara smiled slightly as she saw his hesitation. Yes revered one, you can feel it too can't you? The forest spirit has changed and we must adapt if we are to survive. Without hesitation she lowered herself to the ground and slowly approached the priest who stood waiting as though it was he, not she who was about to be sacrificed.
Spellbound the crowd watched as Yawara pulled a small wooden cross from under her tunic. "I exorcise Gojan," she cried to the crowd raising the cross over her head, "behold the new spirit of the forest and from henceforth his name shall be God.
Lovely, tense and graphic piece of writing Vicki thank you.
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