Women of Woden

The fire crackled with warmth while the smell of fresh burnt cedar bark filled the air. It swirled out from the smoke of the blaze in the pit near our feet as we sat in our little circle, faces illuminated but still full of shadow.

We lounged around our great bonfire - reveling in the coziness it brought into our very bones.

I shifted from my place on one of the logs Charlotte’s husband had carved into lacquered seats a few years back. They had been childhood sweet hearts who grew up to find that the two of them no longer had a single thing in common. He watched football while drinking a double shot of whiskey, which then inevitably morphed into three and then six on a good night.

Janelle came out of the house carrying some of her fresh coffee - I could already breath in a whiff of comforting cinnamon and cloves.

“We should get started soon.” Marie sol said as she took her bright red mug in one manicured hand. Her dark green eyes glimmered in the flickering light.

“Yes, it is getting late.”

By the time on the golden watch my last husband had given me, it was already well past midnight.

Once we had all put down our empty mugs on the soft ground, the ceremony began.

Charlotte started by putting a large iron pan atop the grate which hung over the top of our beautiful fire. Janelle then rose and put in the oil, the monkshood, the mandrake root shavings from my garden, the balm of gilead and the celandine.

We were ready.

Marie Sol and I rose from our seats to go fetch the final items for the sacrifice. The two animals had long been waiting with bated breath for their eventual slaughter. They were not entirely stupid - they knew this had been a longtime coming.

We walked the short distance away from our gathering in the dark, but none of us had any problem navigating. We knew these woods the same way we knew the name and use of every herb that grew in them. This had been our tradition for many years.



“Hmm...which one should we take first?” Marie Sol asked.

I looked at the bodies of our livestock, tied by the neck to a wooden stake in the ground. They were very much alive, but had been given one of my concoctions for temporary paralysis. Their eyes were open - wild with awareness.

“This one. He is the largest of the two.” I said while I used my dagger to cut the rope which bound it in place. The animal was large indeed, as it took both Marie Sol and I a good thirty minutes to drag him back to our fire. Finally, though, we had its limp arms tied to the base of our red stained oak tree. The limbs were tied in place so that the thing was facing us with a dull look, its body held upright.

I bowed my head before offering the silver dagger to Charlotte.

She now took the blade with a look of wild determination fresh in her bright blue eyes.

“My wait is finally over. My revenge is finally wrought. By this hand, we will take what hatred has brought.” She intoned.

The knife found itself plunged deep into the chest of the beast, who could not scream but only give a whimper of pain. Oily flesh was cut into halves as Charlotte let her hand pull down the thing's fattened chest. Red blood gushed out from the linear rip down the male's body and cascaded below to water the ground.

We all began to chant our parts as Charlotte used her hands to force the tear to widen and show a rib cage - behind it the prize we craved. With the gash opened further and the sacrifice still alive, she dug her hand deep into the cavity. Her face was stoic as a statue while she ripped out the things heart with her bare, stained hands.

Blood gushed from the still beating bodily pump.

The three of us cheered as our leader threw the heart triumphantly into the waiting hot oil.

When our meat had browned, I was the one to grab the sacred muscle out of the grease. I held it to the October sky before ripping off one fourth of the meat with my teeth. Hot juices like of the finest steak rolled down my chin and onto my neck as I chewed.

The heart was then passed on to my other sisters until the last bite was given to dear Charlotte.

We all ate slowly, savoring the rare treat of this sacred night. We could feel the age of our flesh lessening, our middle aged bodies reverting back to the ones so full of youth and vitality. As the carcass on our oak tree nourished the earth, we danced around our fire in exaltation.

Everything had gone just according to plan.



That following morning when I sat at my kitchen table sipping my black coffee and reading the news a certain headline caught my eye. It stated “Two Local Men Reported Missing”.

I flipped to that article with the usual crumpling noise of that morning’s Woden Review. I read that one Chad Davids had been reported missing by his wife, Charlotte Davids, as of two days ago. He was last seen by the wife - who stated between tears - that her husband had gone out on a fishing trip with friends two days prior.

He had never returned, nor had the other man on the fishing trip - one Shane Simone, husband of one Janelle Basque Simone.

The article ended with their descriptions and photographs, along with a number to call if either man were spotted. Their wives were grief stricken.

I smiled at the acting skills of my sisters.

I laughed - my petunias were doing well on the flesh of Chad Davids.