The Arrival

A short story featuring Eleanore and Jackie.

The cramped church was sweltering. Bodies upon bodies were crammed into the small, primitive sanctuary and bowed in prayer. Yet none of them seemed to mind the heat, even though they were in their thick cotton robes in the middle of summer. Warm golden sunlight filtered in through the small glassless windows and the gaps in the wooden boards that made up the walls. At the front of the church, on a platform raised slightly above the followers and behind a podium decorated with skulls and tree branches, was a man who looked just like the others. The only difference was the ram-skull he wore on his head and the barely visible glowing tattoos on his neck. After the starting prayer ended, the man raised his head and called out, his booming voice making the small place of worship quake.

"My fellow men.” He said.” The Wicker Man has blessed us with this wonderful trip back to our homeland to partake in worship uninterrupted by the blind fools that inhabit our newest territory. If it weren’t for him, we would have been forced to parade around like jesters to entertain feeble-minded “modern men” instead of being able to partake in the Great Return this week.”

“However! While the arrangement we’ve made with that vile little beast in Staffordshire has been demeaning and bothersome, it has given us enough sacrifices to please the Wicker Man for this moon and many more moons to come. If we didn’t have these offerings, we wouldn’t have been able to return here in the first place.”

The leader paused for a moment, listening to the soft sound of muffled crying coming from behind the tattered brown curtain next to him. He smiled from under his mask.

“For the Great Return requires a rather large amount of human offerings that we haven’t had in a *very* long time but, thanks to the idiocy of the technology-wielding man, we’ve finally harvested enough. Enough to show our god how much we look up to him and to give thanks for the blessings and miracles he bestows upon us every day. Over *twenty sacrifices* will be made this week to the Wicker Man, to return our eternal gratitude and admiration. May we hope he is pleased with our effor- “

The preacher was suddenly interrupted by the doors of the chapel slamming open and a violent gust of wind blowing through the cultists, chilling them to their core. The blazing sun outside, once baking the worshipers in their own skin, now hidden by dark, blue-tinted storm clouds. Many of the followers jumped and whipped their heads around to glare at the sudden intruder while the leader himself simply reached under his mask to rub his eyes.

A small girl donning a soiled dress and twisted antlers stood in the doorway, dark vines slowly twisted up around her feet like the black veins crawling over her pale skin. Her matted black hair was filled with leaves and teeming with bugs, blowing in the wind as she slowly made her way towards the podium.

***“Jackieee.”*** She wailed, her cries sending chills down the followers' spines. ***“Jackie, I want to* play *with you.”*** Her eerie voice echoed, a more comical tone slowly making its way in as she began to smile.

The leader, Jackie, didn’t appear impressed.

“Eleanore, why are you here? You’re supposed to be at that wretched park, "playing" with those new dead girls that just arrived and not me. And cut it out with that ghost nonsense. You’re not nearly as scary as you think you are.”

Her ears twitched in amusement. **“*But Jackie, am* I *not a part of the Beornen? Shouldn’t* I*be here with you all to participate in this “Return”?”***

“No, no, you are not! Eleanore, you are simply an accomplice of ours! Just because you’re a *friend* of the Beornen does not make you a member!”

***“Well, tough luck goat-boy. I came all the way out here, risking Thirteen’s very* power *and the* safety *of my forest, and I’m not leaving until I see a mass-murder for your little stick, Satan.”*** Her mischievous grin grew as she dropped her act, the vines growing around her feet reaching up in an attempt to tap the nose of Jackie’s skull before being swatted away.

The younger cultists let out a chorus of giggles, only to be met with the fiery gaze of their leader and the firm voice of their mothers.

"*You insufferable demon!* Out with you! I will *not* let you ruin the Return like this!”

***“Oh? So you won’t let me “ruin” your little sacrifice-party by simply joining in, but you would say, let me ruin it by releasing all your little offerings?”***

“NO! No, no. Fine, Eleanore, you may participate in the Return to satisfy your sick bloodlust. However, you mustn’t mess with any of the ceremonies or offerings. Understood?”

***“Aye-aye, captain.”*** She skipped over and lifted herself onto the platform, walking over to Jackie and tugging on his robes. ***“Now lift me up. I’m not sitting there with a bunch of freaks who smell like goat [x] and disease.”***

Jackie let out a defeated sigh and lifted the forest spirit, allowing her to crawl out of his arms and hang onto his shoulders.

“Satisfied?”

***“Yes. You may continue.”***

And so the sermon continued as normal, although the boom from Jackie’s voice had disappeared as he sounded much more tired and flustered than he was when he started. Near the end, Eleanore leaned in and whispered into his ear: ***“Y’know, I wasn’t* actually *going to release the offerings. I just said that to you to let me stay. Did I… stress you out?***

“Yes, yes, you did.” Her ears lowered.

“You made a fool of me in front of the other followers on the first day of possibly the most important event for the Beornen since 2018. Do you have any *idea* how mad my god is going to be at me for letting you get away with your little joke? I could *die* because of this, Eleanore.*”*

The guardian said nothing in return, but a dull *thump* could be heard as she slowly slid off on his back. Her head hung in shame.

“Hey… listen. I know you mean well and you’re just trying to be funny, but *please* take this event seriously if you’re going to stay with us for the week. I am extremely mad at you right now. Trust me, I am *seething* with *rage* and *filled* with *malice*.” His mouth slowly curled into a grin as he ruffled her hair with his work-worn hands.

“But, if you’re good, then I won’t add you onto the sacrifice-schedule okay?”

***“Okay, that’s fair. I* suppose*. I’ll promise I’ll be on my… ugh… “*best behavior”.”** The spirit said with an exaggerated groan, slumping her shoulders before looking back up at her friend with a grin.

“Good, now, let’s get the altar ready. We have a long week ahead of us…”