The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Of Sacrifice and Regret
by Kim Richards

Born of roots, she died and was buried. Those who sacrificed her relished in the blessings heaped upon their village. Plentiful crops and vanquished ruffians were common. Too common so that in three generations, the people forgot who she was and how they came by the blessings. They stopped praying and leaving ten percent of their bounty at the feet of the ancient sequoia tree. The village elders buried her beside it long ago and now those roots cradled her corpse gently.

Realizing the villagers neglect, the sequoia’s spirit stirred. The pact was no more. Its roots plunged their tips into her body. Dark sap pumped into her veins, slowly like the molasses used in the villager’s bread. Then, in the midst of the new moon’s darkness, the roots parted the damp soil and lifted her up. The movement sent the night crawlers fleeing.

As the roots withdrew from her body, she trembled in the crisp night air and struggled to stand. Where did the peace of death, the soft bed of roots go? She tilted her head upward. Overhead, leaves rustled, giving her the tree spirit’s instruction.

Clad only in a red woolen scarf, woven by her mother as a gift for her sacrificial daughter, she pulled it close over her withered shoulders. With a long, loud, and angry moan, she shambled off towards the village. The tree spirit sighed. Soon the village would remember…and regret their arrogance.