Bull of Flame

The BullThe other day I received an odd comment on a ficlet I wrote a few months ago. All it said was, "pagans don't make sacrifices."


I was kind of confused by this, since all of the pagans I had ever known personally or read about have at least given symbolic sacrifices at least.It's not my best work, in fact it might be my lowest rated ficlet to date. But I still stand by my work. It's about burning an effigy, something pagans have done for centuries, whether fluffy bunny types want to admit it or not.


Anyway, here's the offending piece. I was basically playing around with using the Fibonnacci sequence as a poetic meter. I don't know if it works or not, and I should probably never write a poem again. But here it is:



We worked many months preparing the sacrifice. The building of the bull proceeded much like any other large public works project. First the base was built, concrete poured into holes in the ground. Then the wooden frame was installed, an eerie skeleton hovering over us. The skin came next, carefully sewn together from leather scraps donated by the village.



The horns were more difficult. According to tradition, they must each be made of the heartwood of a virgin ash tree collected during the first full moon of the year. The villagers then spend time carving images on them.



These images represent the unwanted things that the villagers would wish to remove from their lives during the upcoming cleansing rite.



The young maidens of the village then weave garlands of flowers to decorate the bull.



The men attack it, as if to defend their homeland.



The high priest sets fire to it.



A roaring erupts.



Tongues of flame.



Dancing.



Burn.



Ash.

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