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Deleted member 16639
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Dear friends
I wrote a new crucifixion-story. The first “translation” was done by google(ugly)translate and then “polished” by our great Eulaia to make the thing ready to read.
Thank you Eulalia.
I hope you will enjoy the story.
Skeleton Island (1)
Outside the house someone is singing. It must be Jennifer, my four-year-old granddaughter. Her bright clear voice carries far across the heath. She’s singing one of our old songs. Whenever I hear such a song, it touches my heart.
I interrupt my knitting and heave a silent sigh. I look down at my bare feet. The right is resting on the left, that’s how I usually sit while I’m knitting, ever since then ... since our unbelievable voyage ... the journey to Skeleton Island, so many years ago ...
The song is over. Little Jennifer comes to me and takes me by the hand. My little granddaughter wants to walk with her grandma to see the sheep grazing in the meadow. I put my knitting aside and give Jenny her coat. I throw a warm scarf over my shoulders. I don’t put on any shoes, I rarely do, only when it's really cold. Even at fifty-seven, I don´t get cold, I want to feel Mother Nature under my bare soles.
The wind blows in from the sea. Jennifer skips across the green grass. She runs to the sheep on the upper pasture. I follow her without any hurry and enjoy the my little granddaughter’s happiness. We have good land, there’s good pasture, and behind the wall salad and pot vegetables are growing.
I spin the wool of our sheep by hand and dye them with natural colours. People pay good money for our wool, and the distillery in the nearby town pays well for our rye, an ancient variety that grows only here by the sea. The whiskey from here is very popular in the UK. People will use it for a toast to the new century.
1900. A new century. When we sailed out to look at the solar eclipse, this date was still far away. It was the year 1861 ...
At the upper wall, which separates the pasture from the sea, wild blackberries grow on the heath. They’re almost ripe, I'll make jam with them. Jenny loves blackberry jam, so do all our other grandchildren.
As I pass our well, I feel the familiar gentle pulling in my bare feet. It comes from the scars. Since I’ve had those scars, I’ve been able to feel water beneath the ground. Since that day on Skeleton Island I’ve detected subterranean water-channels. Many people have already asked me to look for water on their land. I don’t need a forked branch or bent wires, my bare feet can feel much more reliably where there is water underground.
People sometimes call me a witch, but a white witch, a good witch. Others, especially the older people, call me a saint, because of my scars, which are still visible now I’m fifty-seven.
None of this is true. I’m neither a witch nor a saint, I am simply a woman who has a sense for nature. That's all.
A little six-year-old girl is walking around the upper wall, it’s Kathrin, the third daughter of my third daughter Leah.
"Grandma!", she calls. "Grandma! Just look at what I’ve found on the beach!" She presents me with a piece of bone, “Is it a unicorn?"
I smile at Kathrin. "Who knows?” I say mysteriously, "It could be, Kathy."
Ethan comes around the wall, Barry our faithful dog is with him. Ethan has Coleen on his shoulders, our three-year-old granddaughter - the fifth daughter of our fifth daughter, Megan. We have only daughters, seven in number: Anna, Molly, Leah, Ciara, Megan, Mary and Maisie. That´s another reason why people think I’m a witch - seven daughters. No sons. And our daughters only have daughters too.
Ethan comes to me. He sets Coleen down on her feet, and she immediately walks to her cousin to stroke the sheep. Ethan kisses me. He points to my feet with a wink: "In contact with Mother Earth again?" His smile is warm. His eyes reflect the warmth. "Even as a young girl you were always barefoot."
He puts his arm around me and together we watch our granddaughters as they stroke the sheep. Ethan is the best man in the world, I couldn’t have gotten a better one. We have seven magnificent daughters who live not far away and visit us regularly and trust us with our grandchildren.
Ethan looks out to sea, "The wind’s dropped, I can smell fog - it'll be a really thick pea-souper, just like thirty-eight years ago, when we left Patrick's boat to watch the solar eclipse."
I suddenly shudder. Ethan is thinking about it too ... that distant day ...
---------------
It was in 1861. We were eight people: Eileen and Finn, Saoirse and Liam, Margaret and Patrick, who had just gotten his first boat, and Ethan and me. We were young, so young! I was nineteen and Ethan twenty-two. All the others were around our age. We’d known each other since childhood and always stayed together. We came together in our childhood, and the couples stayed together and married when they grew up. This is how it goes on the coast. One chooses very early, pretty well by fifteen, and what once comes together remains together for a lifetime.
We had sailed on Patrick’s boat out to the islands. On one we wanted to organize a picnic and watch the predicted eclipse of the sun. We had blackened panes of glass with us.
At first everything went well. We sailed out in a stiff breeze. The small fishing-smack Patrick had inherited from his uncle made good speed. But when we were close to the small islands, the wind suddenly stopped and a dense fog came up. And then the current drove us off-course. That's how it must have been...
Even today I see Margaret’s face clearly before my inner eyes. She was disappointed: "What a washout! Now we can forget the eclipse. Why did this stupid fog have to come up?"
And Eileen's big eyes: "Let’s pray the current won’t drive us onto any rocks!"
"Or to Skeleton Island," joked Patrick.
Eileen gave him a thump, "Don’t joke about that!"
I had to resist a grin. Eileen was one of those who believed in Skeleton Island. Skeleton Island has been a spectre in the brains of the coastland people since ancient times. It was a mysterious, invisible island, hidden in the fog. There were wild cannibals there who attacked any ships, they ate the sailors and pulled the ships out of the sea to make firewood. No one who hit the shore of Skeleton Island ever came back. Right above the beach, it was said, the dunes were peppered with human bones, there was even a fence made of human bones.
Well, that was queer to begin with, how could anyone know this, when supposedly no-one ever returned from Skeleton Island?
Yes, people disappeared out at sea here. The guilt for that lay with the treacherous current between the outlying islands, which drove the ships against cliffs where they were wrecked. But Skeleton Island was nothing but an old myth.
"Be quiet, folks!” Liam ordered suddenly. He was listening intently. Saoirse, clinging to him, opened her eyes wide: "I can hear waves hitting a beach!"
"There's an island right ahead of us," Patrick said. He reached for the tiller, "Get ready. We'll be ashore right away. "
"I hope there aren’t any cliffs," said Eileen anxiously.
"It’s a shallow, sandy beach," said Patrick, "I can hear it clearly, it’s the sound of waves breaking on a shallow beach. "
He’d be right, after a few minutes our small ship ran aground on a sandy beach. Patrick threw out the anchor to secure the boat. There was still thick fog.
"Where are we?" asked Finn.
"This could be one of the bird islands. They all have a flat sandy beach on the side facing the mainland, and rugged rocks on the ocean side. "
"Let's take a look," said Ethan. He jumped into the water, "Throw me a rope, I'll haul the boat up on the beach."
I didn’t want to wait, I held my skirt up and jumped barefoot into the shallow water. Margaret, Saoirse, and Eileen did the same. Soon we were all standing on the shallow, sandy beach.
"How warm it is," said Eileen, still standing in the water, "Even the sea is warm." She came to us and pointed to a gently rising bank, "Look at the grass, how green it’s growing. Out here, on the outlying islands, it's cold! Too cold for such lush green grass."
The dense fog gradually thinned, giving us a clearer view of the island. The beach rose gently. Green grass grew everywhere, and there were rocks poking up from the meadows.
"Red!" cried Patrick, "The rocks are red! How can that be? The rocks on the islands are normally grey."
I think it was at that moment we all felt a bad feeling, a feeling that things were not right. There was something wrong with this strange island. It was too warm, the grass grew too luxuriantly, and the rocks had a colour that isn’t found in this world.
"Let's go up there and look over the island," Eileen suggested, "The fog’s lifting. If we can find a good point where we can observe the eclipse, we can unload the picnic items from the boat. If not, we'll go to another island."
We crossed the gentle slope over the grass. The ground felt warm and soft under my bare soles, too warm for the season. The uneasy feeling in my stomach was still growing. The dense, soft grass, the warm water, the pleasantly mild air, the inviting-looking island, all seemed to me like a trap, I wanted to ask my friends to go back to the boat and set off for another island. But they already had a head start and were running up the meadow. Above, our path passed between two towering red rocks. It looked like an ominous gate. I hurried to catch up with the others. When I caught up with them, the fog had almost disappeared. That's how we saw it immediately.
Margaret gave a startled cry. The rest of us stood still and silent, staring at what was spread out before us.
"Skeleton Island," Eileen whispered, "for God's sake! We’re on Skeleton Island!"
No-one disagreed. In front of us the countryside fell away gently. The interior of the island was a huge hollow valley, densely covered by green grass. Here and there stood clumps of trees. It looked heavenly. But right in front of us was nothing paradisiacal. Before us was a fence - a fence made of human bones. We saw ribs and leg-bones beside arm-bones and spines. On some of the bones protruding above the grass were placed human skulls.
"Skeleton Island!" Eileen whimpered, "The island really exists! We've got to get away! At once!"
No one disagreed, I think we were all frightened to death. We turned around to run back to the beach, but the path between the two red rocks was blocked. There were people, people like I'd never seen before.
They were wearing coarse-woven garments, and their faces were painted white with lime. Every one of them, man, woman, and child, wore this white layer on their faces, their naked legs, and their arms. They had little human bones braided into their long hair. They looked like demons that had sprung from hell.
A huge man came forward: "The Great Goddess has heard our prayer!"
He spoke in the old language, which we all still knew. Our grandparents still spoke it. Even at the time we younger ones didn´t use it, but we understood what the man said.
"The great goddess has heard our prayer," repeated the man, spreading out his arms, "Long live the great goddess!"
"Long live the Great Goddess!" cried everyone. There were around fifty people.
The children stared at us with wide eyes. There was hunger in those eyes, those children were gaunt, even the adults were thin.
"At last, no mushrooms and roots any more," cried an elderly woman, "meat! Fresh meat for us hungry people!”
Eileen, who was standing beside me, gave out a whine like a frightened dog. "They want to eat us," she whimpered. "They’ll kill us and eat us! Just like the old stories said! They want to eat us up!"
As if the savages had understood her, they came around us. Any resistance would be futile, there were too many, they overwhelmed us. With ropes braided from plant-fibres, they bound our hands behind our backs, then they drove us down to the middle of the island.
I was afraid as never before in my life. My heart was beating so hard that I feared it would burst out of my chest any moment. I was scared to death, I knew I had to die. We looked at each other.
Why did we come to this island? I wondered, why did we go ashore? It was all so suspicious! The warm water, the mild air, the verdant grass, the strange red rocks. Oh, why didn’t insist on going back to the boat? Now it was too late.
All the terrible legends about Skeleton Island were true. There was this island hidden in the fog and there was the cannibal tribe on the island. The cannibals would eat us.
Down in the middle of the big hollow was the village of the man-eaters. There were simple stone houses, the roofs thatched with straw. When we arrived, more people came out of the houses. Now there were about seventy people around us.
The leader of our captors us came forward, "See what the Great Goddess gives us! Look at them all! Meat! Nutritious meat! It will make us strong and let our children grow! Long live the Great Goddess! "
"Long live the Great Goddess!" cried the people in the chorus.
I stood next to Ethan and tried to lean against him. I was about to break down. My knees were trembling with fear. I knew we were going to die here and now. These cannibals would kill us and devour us.
"I love you Ethan," I said. "I want you to know that."
He looked at me with his dear eyes: "I love you, too, Amy. There was never any other girl for me. May God be merciful to our souls. "
The leader of the cannibals stood before us: "God?" He looked in our eyes: "You are Christians? You worship the God who sacrificed his Son on the cross? "A strange glow flared up in his eyes. "I shall make you a suggestion. We need to eat flesh to get strength. We will kill and eat you all. Unless ... " he paused, " unless one of you sacrifices herself voluntarily. It has to be a woman and she must go the way of her God. If a woman goes voluntarily to the cross, the power of her flesh, which will pass into us when we eat it, is ten times as strong."
He looked at us with cruel eyes: "Choose! Either one of you sacrifices herself and the others will be released after her death, or you all will die."
I felt a terrible, piercing pain in my heart. It was as if I were being penetrated there by a red-hot iron. There was only fear and pain. But among these feelings there was something else: love. Love for Ethan and my friends.
Amy, you'll die either way, I said to myself. But if you voluntarily sacrifice yourself, Ethan and the others will live.
I took a deep breath and stepped out before the leader of the cannibals. "I bring the sacrifice. I shall go voluntarily to the cross." My fear was growing I was shivering uncontrollably, but my voice remained firm: "Take me. Crucify me. Eat my meat. And let my friends go free!"
I saw something like respect in the eyes of the leader. He nodded to me, "That's how it shall be. You sacrifice yourself and your friends will be free. Immediately after your death we will lead them to their ship and give them back their freedom. Normally we smash the boats and use them for firewood. But because you are ready to make the sacrifice, we will return your ship to your friends. "
He made a gesture, "Bind the others!" He gave me a look, under which I felt cold. "We don’t want them to disturb the ceremony. They will stand still at the stakes."
Willy-nilly, my friends were led to a number of stakes that were driven into the ground, and tied to them.
It had become warmer. Although I was half mad with fear, I wondered, how could it be so warm on one of these outlying islands? You will not freeze on the cross, Amy, a soft voice said in my head, you will not feel cold on the cross. Don’t fear catching cold!
I had to force myself not to laugh hysterically. I was awaiting a terrible death, and in my head a small voice was cracking jokes about catching a cold!
The leader came back to me. He cut my wrist-bonds with a knife. "Undress, sacrifice! You have to do it yourself, so that the Great Goddess will see that you are giving yourself up voluntarily. You must place your body on the cross, too."
I obeyed. Before my courage could desert me, I took off all my clothes. With trembling hands I laid them all down together carefully, as if I’d be picking them back up in a few hours time.
The leader of the cannibals waved his hand, "Over there!"
I followed his instructions. In the middle of the village square I saw a cross lying. It hadn’t been there when we’d arrived in the village, how could the savages have prepared it so quickly? Slowly I approached. I felt the ground under my bare soles with unprecedented intensity. The light seemed to be brighter, and all the colours seemed more intense and powerful.
Grass stroked my naked toes as I walked to the cross. My Cross. The cross that would carry me. I saw the wood. It was old wood - wood which had come from a ship. A mast and a yard had been assembled into a perfect tau-cross, a cross of ancient wood that would carry a young girl.
A few people were standing at the cross. They waited patiently. One of them had a hammer in his right hand, in the left he was bearing nails. When I saw the nails, my heart nearly stopped. They were roughly forged, huge nails. They would soon be driven through my hands and feet.
Next to the post of the cross lay a small triangular wooden block in the grass, a little pedestal for my feet. The cannibals will wait until I lie down on the cross, then they’ll nail it in the right position on the upright to nail my feet on it – such were my thoughts.
The little pedestal would be inclined downwards. This wouldn’t give a lot of support for my feet, and my whole body-weight would press down onto the nails that hold my feet - like the crucifixes in our churches. I shivered uncontrollably, my fear grew into an abyss.
On the right and left, ropes were fixed to the cross beam. That’s how they’ll raise the cross, Amy, said the small voice in my head, your cross. They will pull you up and wedge the cross into the hole in the ground. Do you see the hole, Amy? There’s where the cross will be placed, the cross that will carry you. There your young life will end, in terror and in agony.
I turned around and looked into the eyes of my friends, one by one, Ethan last. I love you, I wanted to say, but I couldn´t speak a word. My eyes fell on my neatly folded clothes on the earth, lying there as if I’d planned to get dressed again, as if I’d just taken them off to enjoy a dip in the sea and then put them on again. I would never wear those clothes again. I would never wear clothes. I would die naked.
At that moment I felt a tremendous fear. I was sick with fear. I began to tremble. My teeth were chattering. I do not want to die, I thought. I cannot do this!
But then you’ll all die, said the little voice in my head, you’ll all be killed and gnawed and gobbled up - you too Amy!
The savages were standing still beside the cross. They were in no hurry. They were waiting silently, like spiders in their web.
Do it, I said to myself. Do it right now before, before your bravery gives out!
And so I did it.
I wrote a new crucifixion-story. The first “translation” was done by google(ugly)translate and then “polished” by our great Eulaia to make the thing ready to read.
Thank you Eulalia.
I hope you will enjoy the story.
Skeleton Island (1)
Outside the house someone is singing. It must be Jennifer, my four-year-old granddaughter. Her bright clear voice carries far across the heath. She’s singing one of our old songs. Whenever I hear such a song, it touches my heart.
I interrupt my knitting and heave a silent sigh. I look down at my bare feet. The right is resting on the left, that’s how I usually sit while I’m knitting, ever since then ... since our unbelievable voyage ... the journey to Skeleton Island, so many years ago ...
The song is over. Little Jennifer comes to me and takes me by the hand. My little granddaughter wants to walk with her grandma to see the sheep grazing in the meadow. I put my knitting aside and give Jenny her coat. I throw a warm scarf over my shoulders. I don’t put on any shoes, I rarely do, only when it's really cold. Even at fifty-seven, I don´t get cold, I want to feel Mother Nature under my bare soles.
The wind blows in from the sea. Jennifer skips across the green grass. She runs to the sheep on the upper pasture. I follow her without any hurry and enjoy the my little granddaughter’s happiness. We have good land, there’s good pasture, and behind the wall salad and pot vegetables are growing.
I spin the wool of our sheep by hand and dye them with natural colours. People pay good money for our wool, and the distillery in the nearby town pays well for our rye, an ancient variety that grows only here by the sea. The whiskey from here is very popular in the UK. People will use it for a toast to the new century.
1900. A new century. When we sailed out to look at the solar eclipse, this date was still far away. It was the year 1861 ...
At the upper wall, which separates the pasture from the sea, wild blackberries grow on the heath. They’re almost ripe, I'll make jam with them. Jenny loves blackberry jam, so do all our other grandchildren.
As I pass our well, I feel the familiar gentle pulling in my bare feet. It comes from the scars. Since I’ve had those scars, I’ve been able to feel water beneath the ground. Since that day on Skeleton Island I’ve detected subterranean water-channels. Many people have already asked me to look for water on their land. I don’t need a forked branch or bent wires, my bare feet can feel much more reliably where there is water underground.
People sometimes call me a witch, but a white witch, a good witch. Others, especially the older people, call me a saint, because of my scars, which are still visible now I’m fifty-seven.
None of this is true. I’m neither a witch nor a saint, I am simply a woman who has a sense for nature. That's all.
A little six-year-old girl is walking around the upper wall, it’s Kathrin, the third daughter of my third daughter Leah.
"Grandma!", she calls. "Grandma! Just look at what I’ve found on the beach!" She presents me with a piece of bone, “Is it a unicorn?"
I smile at Kathrin. "Who knows?” I say mysteriously, "It could be, Kathy."
Ethan comes around the wall, Barry our faithful dog is with him. Ethan has Coleen on his shoulders, our three-year-old granddaughter - the fifth daughter of our fifth daughter, Megan. We have only daughters, seven in number: Anna, Molly, Leah, Ciara, Megan, Mary and Maisie. That´s another reason why people think I’m a witch - seven daughters. No sons. And our daughters only have daughters too.
Ethan comes to me. He sets Coleen down on her feet, and she immediately walks to her cousin to stroke the sheep. Ethan kisses me. He points to my feet with a wink: "In contact with Mother Earth again?" His smile is warm. His eyes reflect the warmth. "Even as a young girl you were always barefoot."
He puts his arm around me and together we watch our granddaughters as they stroke the sheep. Ethan is the best man in the world, I couldn’t have gotten a better one. We have seven magnificent daughters who live not far away and visit us regularly and trust us with our grandchildren.
Ethan looks out to sea, "The wind’s dropped, I can smell fog - it'll be a really thick pea-souper, just like thirty-eight years ago, when we left Patrick's boat to watch the solar eclipse."
I suddenly shudder. Ethan is thinking about it too ... that distant day ...
---------------
It was in 1861. We were eight people: Eileen and Finn, Saoirse and Liam, Margaret and Patrick, who had just gotten his first boat, and Ethan and me. We were young, so young! I was nineteen and Ethan twenty-two. All the others were around our age. We’d known each other since childhood and always stayed together. We came together in our childhood, and the couples stayed together and married when they grew up. This is how it goes on the coast. One chooses very early, pretty well by fifteen, and what once comes together remains together for a lifetime.
We had sailed on Patrick’s boat out to the islands. On one we wanted to organize a picnic and watch the predicted eclipse of the sun. We had blackened panes of glass with us.
At first everything went well. We sailed out in a stiff breeze. The small fishing-smack Patrick had inherited from his uncle made good speed. But when we were close to the small islands, the wind suddenly stopped and a dense fog came up. And then the current drove us off-course. That's how it must have been...
Even today I see Margaret’s face clearly before my inner eyes. She was disappointed: "What a washout! Now we can forget the eclipse. Why did this stupid fog have to come up?"
And Eileen's big eyes: "Let’s pray the current won’t drive us onto any rocks!"
"Or to Skeleton Island," joked Patrick.
Eileen gave him a thump, "Don’t joke about that!"
I had to resist a grin. Eileen was one of those who believed in Skeleton Island. Skeleton Island has been a spectre in the brains of the coastland people since ancient times. It was a mysterious, invisible island, hidden in the fog. There were wild cannibals there who attacked any ships, they ate the sailors and pulled the ships out of the sea to make firewood. No one who hit the shore of Skeleton Island ever came back. Right above the beach, it was said, the dunes were peppered with human bones, there was even a fence made of human bones.
Well, that was queer to begin with, how could anyone know this, when supposedly no-one ever returned from Skeleton Island?
Yes, people disappeared out at sea here. The guilt for that lay with the treacherous current between the outlying islands, which drove the ships against cliffs where they were wrecked. But Skeleton Island was nothing but an old myth.
"Be quiet, folks!” Liam ordered suddenly. He was listening intently. Saoirse, clinging to him, opened her eyes wide: "I can hear waves hitting a beach!"
"There's an island right ahead of us," Patrick said. He reached for the tiller, "Get ready. We'll be ashore right away. "
"I hope there aren’t any cliffs," said Eileen anxiously.
"It’s a shallow, sandy beach," said Patrick, "I can hear it clearly, it’s the sound of waves breaking on a shallow beach. "
He’d be right, after a few minutes our small ship ran aground on a sandy beach. Patrick threw out the anchor to secure the boat. There was still thick fog.
"Where are we?" asked Finn.
"This could be one of the bird islands. They all have a flat sandy beach on the side facing the mainland, and rugged rocks on the ocean side. "
"Let's take a look," said Ethan. He jumped into the water, "Throw me a rope, I'll haul the boat up on the beach."
I didn’t want to wait, I held my skirt up and jumped barefoot into the shallow water. Margaret, Saoirse, and Eileen did the same. Soon we were all standing on the shallow, sandy beach.
"How warm it is," said Eileen, still standing in the water, "Even the sea is warm." She came to us and pointed to a gently rising bank, "Look at the grass, how green it’s growing. Out here, on the outlying islands, it's cold! Too cold for such lush green grass."
The dense fog gradually thinned, giving us a clearer view of the island. The beach rose gently. Green grass grew everywhere, and there were rocks poking up from the meadows.
"Red!" cried Patrick, "The rocks are red! How can that be? The rocks on the islands are normally grey."
I think it was at that moment we all felt a bad feeling, a feeling that things were not right. There was something wrong with this strange island. It was too warm, the grass grew too luxuriantly, and the rocks had a colour that isn’t found in this world.
"Let's go up there and look over the island," Eileen suggested, "The fog’s lifting. If we can find a good point where we can observe the eclipse, we can unload the picnic items from the boat. If not, we'll go to another island."
We crossed the gentle slope over the grass. The ground felt warm and soft under my bare soles, too warm for the season. The uneasy feeling in my stomach was still growing. The dense, soft grass, the warm water, the pleasantly mild air, the inviting-looking island, all seemed to me like a trap, I wanted to ask my friends to go back to the boat and set off for another island. But they already had a head start and were running up the meadow. Above, our path passed between two towering red rocks. It looked like an ominous gate. I hurried to catch up with the others. When I caught up with them, the fog had almost disappeared. That's how we saw it immediately.
Margaret gave a startled cry. The rest of us stood still and silent, staring at what was spread out before us.
"Skeleton Island," Eileen whispered, "for God's sake! We’re on Skeleton Island!"
No-one disagreed. In front of us the countryside fell away gently. The interior of the island was a huge hollow valley, densely covered by green grass. Here and there stood clumps of trees. It looked heavenly. But right in front of us was nothing paradisiacal. Before us was a fence - a fence made of human bones. We saw ribs and leg-bones beside arm-bones and spines. On some of the bones protruding above the grass were placed human skulls.
"Skeleton Island!" Eileen whimpered, "The island really exists! We've got to get away! At once!"
No one disagreed, I think we were all frightened to death. We turned around to run back to the beach, but the path between the two red rocks was blocked. There were people, people like I'd never seen before.
They were wearing coarse-woven garments, and their faces were painted white with lime. Every one of them, man, woman, and child, wore this white layer on their faces, their naked legs, and their arms. They had little human bones braided into their long hair. They looked like demons that had sprung from hell.
A huge man came forward: "The Great Goddess has heard our prayer!"
He spoke in the old language, which we all still knew. Our grandparents still spoke it. Even at the time we younger ones didn´t use it, but we understood what the man said.
"The great goddess has heard our prayer," repeated the man, spreading out his arms, "Long live the great goddess!"
"Long live the Great Goddess!" cried everyone. There were around fifty people.
The children stared at us with wide eyes. There was hunger in those eyes, those children were gaunt, even the adults were thin.
"At last, no mushrooms and roots any more," cried an elderly woman, "meat! Fresh meat for us hungry people!”
Eileen, who was standing beside me, gave out a whine like a frightened dog. "They want to eat us," she whimpered. "They’ll kill us and eat us! Just like the old stories said! They want to eat us up!"
As if the savages had understood her, they came around us. Any resistance would be futile, there were too many, they overwhelmed us. With ropes braided from plant-fibres, they bound our hands behind our backs, then they drove us down to the middle of the island.
I was afraid as never before in my life. My heart was beating so hard that I feared it would burst out of my chest any moment. I was scared to death, I knew I had to die. We looked at each other.
Why did we come to this island? I wondered, why did we go ashore? It was all so suspicious! The warm water, the mild air, the verdant grass, the strange red rocks. Oh, why didn’t insist on going back to the boat? Now it was too late.
All the terrible legends about Skeleton Island were true. There was this island hidden in the fog and there was the cannibal tribe on the island. The cannibals would eat us.
Down in the middle of the big hollow was the village of the man-eaters. There were simple stone houses, the roofs thatched with straw. When we arrived, more people came out of the houses. Now there were about seventy people around us.
The leader of our captors us came forward, "See what the Great Goddess gives us! Look at them all! Meat! Nutritious meat! It will make us strong and let our children grow! Long live the Great Goddess! "
"Long live the Great Goddess!" cried the people in the chorus.
I stood next to Ethan and tried to lean against him. I was about to break down. My knees were trembling with fear. I knew we were going to die here and now. These cannibals would kill us and devour us.
"I love you Ethan," I said. "I want you to know that."
He looked at me with his dear eyes: "I love you, too, Amy. There was never any other girl for me. May God be merciful to our souls. "
The leader of the cannibals stood before us: "God?" He looked in our eyes: "You are Christians? You worship the God who sacrificed his Son on the cross? "A strange glow flared up in his eyes. "I shall make you a suggestion. We need to eat flesh to get strength. We will kill and eat you all. Unless ... " he paused, " unless one of you sacrifices herself voluntarily. It has to be a woman and she must go the way of her God. If a woman goes voluntarily to the cross, the power of her flesh, which will pass into us when we eat it, is ten times as strong."
He looked at us with cruel eyes: "Choose! Either one of you sacrifices herself and the others will be released after her death, or you all will die."
I felt a terrible, piercing pain in my heart. It was as if I were being penetrated there by a red-hot iron. There was only fear and pain. But among these feelings there was something else: love. Love for Ethan and my friends.
Amy, you'll die either way, I said to myself. But if you voluntarily sacrifice yourself, Ethan and the others will live.
I took a deep breath and stepped out before the leader of the cannibals. "I bring the sacrifice. I shall go voluntarily to the cross." My fear was growing I was shivering uncontrollably, but my voice remained firm: "Take me. Crucify me. Eat my meat. And let my friends go free!"
I saw something like respect in the eyes of the leader. He nodded to me, "That's how it shall be. You sacrifice yourself and your friends will be free. Immediately after your death we will lead them to their ship and give them back their freedom. Normally we smash the boats and use them for firewood. But because you are ready to make the sacrifice, we will return your ship to your friends. "
He made a gesture, "Bind the others!" He gave me a look, under which I felt cold. "We don’t want them to disturb the ceremony. They will stand still at the stakes."
Willy-nilly, my friends were led to a number of stakes that were driven into the ground, and tied to them.
It had become warmer. Although I was half mad with fear, I wondered, how could it be so warm on one of these outlying islands? You will not freeze on the cross, Amy, a soft voice said in my head, you will not feel cold on the cross. Don’t fear catching cold!
I had to force myself not to laugh hysterically. I was awaiting a terrible death, and in my head a small voice was cracking jokes about catching a cold!
The leader came back to me. He cut my wrist-bonds with a knife. "Undress, sacrifice! You have to do it yourself, so that the Great Goddess will see that you are giving yourself up voluntarily. You must place your body on the cross, too."
I obeyed. Before my courage could desert me, I took off all my clothes. With trembling hands I laid them all down together carefully, as if I’d be picking them back up in a few hours time.
The leader of the cannibals waved his hand, "Over there!"
I followed his instructions. In the middle of the village square I saw a cross lying. It hadn’t been there when we’d arrived in the village, how could the savages have prepared it so quickly? Slowly I approached. I felt the ground under my bare soles with unprecedented intensity. The light seemed to be brighter, and all the colours seemed more intense and powerful.
Grass stroked my naked toes as I walked to the cross. My Cross. The cross that would carry me. I saw the wood. It was old wood - wood which had come from a ship. A mast and a yard had been assembled into a perfect tau-cross, a cross of ancient wood that would carry a young girl.
A few people were standing at the cross. They waited patiently. One of them had a hammer in his right hand, in the left he was bearing nails. When I saw the nails, my heart nearly stopped. They were roughly forged, huge nails. They would soon be driven through my hands and feet.
Next to the post of the cross lay a small triangular wooden block in the grass, a little pedestal for my feet. The cannibals will wait until I lie down on the cross, then they’ll nail it in the right position on the upright to nail my feet on it – such were my thoughts.
The little pedestal would be inclined downwards. This wouldn’t give a lot of support for my feet, and my whole body-weight would press down onto the nails that hold my feet - like the crucifixes in our churches. I shivered uncontrollably, my fear grew into an abyss.
On the right and left, ropes were fixed to the cross beam. That’s how they’ll raise the cross, Amy, said the small voice in my head, your cross. They will pull you up and wedge the cross into the hole in the ground. Do you see the hole, Amy? There’s where the cross will be placed, the cross that will carry you. There your young life will end, in terror and in agony.
I turned around and looked into the eyes of my friends, one by one, Ethan last. I love you, I wanted to say, but I couldn´t speak a word. My eyes fell on my neatly folded clothes on the earth, lying there as if I’d planned to get dressed again, as if I’d just taken them off to enjoy a dip in the sea and then put them on again. I would never wear those clothes again. I would never wear clothes. I would die naked.
At that moment I felt a tremendous fear. I was sick with fear. I began to tremble. My teeth were chattering. I do not want to die, I thought. I cannot do this!
But then you’ll all die, said the little voice in my head, you’ll all be killed and gnawed and gobbled up - you too Amy!
The savages were standing still beside the cross. They were in no hurry. They were waiting silently, like spiders in their web.
Do it, I said to myself. Do it right now before, before your bravery gives out!
And so I did it.
