The Village Savior - Epic Fantasy Poetry - A Tale of Sacrifice.
Standing at dawn over the crowd
the priest stared down all proud.
Evil. He would now cast it out.
No one among them had a doubt.
He rose all tall, imposing and great,
drew breath and dangled the bait.
"She must pay, the witch among the sheep.
Who can she be, what secret does she keep?
Think you all I shall let you suffer?
God has sent me, evil for to buffer.
I shall save you, have no care.
Trust in me. Your heart now bare.
In my care your hearts entrust
as I hunt out the evil, the lust.
I will find her. This I shall do.
I will find her just to save you.
When I do you must then support.
You must do what I then purport.
For if you fail your children shall die,
torn from you in the blink of any eye.
Do you understand? Do you agree?
Is there one among you wishing to flee?"
All looked around and agreed to the deal,
bargain struck their agreement was sealed.
They were just simple folk
working hard under the yolk.
Oppression had cost them dear.
In their hearts it had sown fear.
Each agreed but never did he think
that further in the mire he would sink.
For a bargain was struck this day
and with it would come Hell to pay.
Easily fooled, easily led
Wanting only peace ahead.
Taking for granted intentions pure,
doing right, of this they were sure.
How to know, who could she be?
The priest would know, the answer had he.
Save them he would for he was good.
Do as he said they knew they should.
And so slowly he led them astray
With piety he deceived this day.
No one suspected him of lies.
He was so pure to their eyes.
As he then prepared to cast the spell
they knew not that he called upon Hell.
Beseeching his master with a pious face
his heart swelled as they fell from grace.
"I now shall divine who she be.
Stand back for contaminated is she.
Only God can tell and you must obey.
Purge from you the identified this day."
As he chanted and prayed
all very still they stayed.
His eyes began to glow.
His chanting started to slow.
He threw up a great golden light
blinding to all who beheld its site.
Onto a beautiful girl child it fell
marking her for the death’s knell.
All drew a breath and held it deep
as the roots of evil began to creep.
She was alone, no family, no home,
only an orphan, not one of their own.
Surely she could be given,
It meant evil would be driven,
out of the village, their only home
away from them, their children, their own.
Upon her did they quickly turn
marked for death, marked to burn.
They grabbed up tight, carried her away.
To the stake they cruelly tied her that day.
Tears fell from her innocent eyes
but never a sound did she cry.
And the priest cried, "I have saved the land."
The people cheered and made their stand.
The fires were lit without grace.
Glee shown upon the priest’s face.
No one cried out or for her fought.
Gain for their own was all they sought.
As the deadly deed was wrought
their souls had truly been bought.
Innocence lost was evil’s unholy gain.
The so called righteous felt no pain.
They never knew nor thought to ask
that one day all would be held to task.
The girl had been the righteous one.
Sent by God to deliver his very own son.
The one, the only, savior yet to come
forever condemned never to see the sun.
With the act committed by all that day
they ensured in Hell would the world stay.
The priest took their thanks as he walked away.
(c) Vix a.k.a. Rhonda Enrayne June, 2010
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