Loss, Once A Century

The village was in a surprisingly festive mood. Bunting and flowers covered every spare surface and children ran through the streets, fouling their best clothing and earning rebukes from their anxious parents. Here and there music broke out, as villagers lifted their whistles and lutes and joined together in impromptu bands. Young girls in pink chemises pressed flowers on everyone and even wove daisies into the stranger's hair. He laughed and joined in a game of theirs, before moving on into the heart of the town.
A stage was still being erected in the town square, even as village girls lined up beside it. Wailing mothers and suspiciously round girls were weeded out first, then those over twenty and the ill of health. Finally the weird and creepy were removed until only the pride of the village - a full ten strong - remained.

The stranger watched it all with interest, as the girls were grilled on their politics, local history and entertainment skills. Each hour, one was removed and the ten dwindled until only two remained. The judges deliberated for hours between them, until, pressed for time, they placed a tie-breaker to the beautiful twosome: sweet Mary Jane and kind Mary Joan.

"If you had one wish, what would it be?"

"To be able to help those who need me," said Mary Jane.

"To know the goodness that comes from everything that befalls me," answered Mary Joan, winning the contest at one stroke and gaining standing ovation from the audience, which had grown as the competition intensified - even old Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs had left their house to see the show. Everyone murmured that Mary Joan was a wonderful choice and would please the demon lord.

The mayor waddled onto the platform. "Every hundred years the demon lord rises and descends on this village and every hundred years this village sacrifices a maiden to him. We choose our best, our most beautiful and our most charming. It has been one hundred years since the last girl gave her life and today, a new one was chosen. We hope that this offering pleases him."

The stranger, who had by now turned quite pale, burst onto the stage and berated the mayor.

"How can you do this? How can you give an innocent child to a monster?"

The mayor replied, as local men stepped in to guard Mary Joan from this ignorant stranger, "If we do not, he may destroy us. We follow tradition and our town is kept safe."

A mob from the audience grabbed onto the stranger and bundled him away, despite his protests. They tied him to a pole, from where he could have a good view of the coming ceremony and gagged him.

Mary Joan then underwent many strange rituals. She was anointed by five of the village elders, then undressed and clad once more in a gown of purest white. A crown of leaves, nuts and berries was placed upon her head by her mother and then the eligible maidens of the village paraded in front of her, laying wreaths of flowers at her feet.

She smiled through it all, until an unspoken moment came, when she was lead up to the stranger and loosely tied to a pole nearby.

The crowd quietened, even the dogs refrained from barking. The haunting sense of expectation weighed on the stranger and he struggled against his bonds. Finally, an eerie mist rose from the ground itself and a loud bell began to toll. An almighty clap rang out as lightning struck Mary Joan's pole and she was freed, to fall into the arms of a devilishly handsome gentleman.

"I accept this maiden," he said in dulcet tones that reverberated with the bell.

A glorious cheer erupted and the stranger gasped as his gag was lifted and he was released.

"What happens now?" he cried.

"Usually there's cake," said the mayor.

Indeed, a tall confection covered in white icing came up from the crowd and was placed before the demon lord. He reached down and lifted up a knife, which he presented to Mary Joan. She delicately cut the cake, the very top of which, the stranger suddenly noticed, had a tiny figure of a girl standing beside a smiling male figure, in a top hat and tails, but with giant, bat wings.

"What's happening?" blubbed the stranger. "Isn't he going to kill her?"

"Well, I hope not," said the mayor, "they've only just met."

The cake was cut up and distributed among the masses, every man, woman and child, even the stranger and a few lucky mongrels were given a piece.

"This reminds me of a wedding," said the stranger, licking crumbs from his fingers.

"And indeed it is," replied the mayor, looking sideways at him. "The demon lord has just assented to take Mary Joan as his wife. Tomorrow they will return to his castle and I hope that they will be very happy together."

"But, the sacrifice..." wailed the stranger.

"Ah yes," the mayor sighed. "We will never see her again."

"And in another hundred years?" asked the stranger.

"By then Mary Joan will have died, she is mortal, after all, but hopefully the demon lord will have overcome his grief and be ready to remarry."

The stranger nodded, then shook his head and looked at the newlyweds. Mary Joan was pressing another slice of cake onto her blushing groom, who, despite his extraordinary arrival, seemed no more ominous than the cake and had no wings whatsoever. A cluster of small children hung nearby, obviously dying to ask the same question.

The celebration continued into the night and almost to the next morning. Bands played and there was dancing. This was broken by the party pieces of the entire village, starting with the very young singing ballads and ending with Mrs. Jacobs' dirty joke. As the sky was turning pink, the demon lord knelt down and beckoned the cluster of small children forward. One of them ran up and whispered into his ear. He whispered back, then stood up and ROARED! His eyes turned black and his hair cackled with electricity. He clawed at the sky and with a loud rip a set of bat-wings burst from his back and flapped in the breeze, totally ruining his suit. The children screamed and clapped their hands as the demon lord grabbed his bride. Mary Joan waved good-bye as his wings beat and they lifted from the ground and flew off to his castle.

She was never seen again.