Ritualistic

Day 35

         Dear Observer.

         Wake up, Dear Observer.

         It is 0834 Local time.

         It is time to wake up Dear Observer.

         The Natives are restless....

         Carmichael paced in front of the hut with his paws interlaced behind his head. His ears splayed flat. His tail tucked. Tears dripped down the sides of his muzzle, landing on his orange furred chest. A loin cloth flaps in the barest of breezes that have managed to filter through the trees near the island. "I didn't..." he muttered. "I didn't...."
With a snarl he spun on Edwin. His own thin ears flattened. He was naked, having forgotten his loin cloth. "Hey! What happened?!"

         "It's...I didn't," He muttered. "Shelly. She says that I took it." He sniffed. "I didn't take nothin, man! I wouldn't do that! I wouldn't..."

         Edwin's own thick fingers splayed out, his chestnut fur glistening in the light as he's begun to sweat. "Look man," he said, waving his own paws in a 'calm down' motion, "I don't know what you're talking about. I just heard the scream and..." Edwin looked down for the first time. "I did it again, didn't I?"

         Carmichael smiled, his white tail tip twitching just a second. "Yes, you did."

         Edwin shrugged, "well shit. I'll get dressed later. Could you tell me what happened?"

         "She says," Carmichael said, "that I took the last of the injections. That I stole the medicine from everyone to get high. I swear, I didn't touch them!"

         He was shaking now, "did I?" his eyes pleaded with Edwin to tell him what he wanted to hear. To just agree with him, to comfort him. To tell him a sweet lie.

         "No," Edwin said, smiling. "Of course not."

Day 60

         Look Dear Observer!

         Look what our progress has done!

         It is 1333 Local time. The beach sand will be watered with blood soon.

         Edwin held a spear above his head. He was naked as the day he was born, the thin strands of hair of his tail swaying in the breeze. "I will cleanse us all!" He shouted, "I will cleanse us all!" The end of the spear was blackened from the fire he used to harden the wood. It stood in stark contrast to the blue of the sky. "Then the rains shall come. Then the gods will notice us!"

         See Dear Observer!

         Watch how they turn back to their old ways and beliefs

         Watch now, how they twist under unseen strings as they are pulled.

         But alas, I'm afraid we have gone too far ahead.

         Let us turn back now.

Day 42

         It is 1955 Local time.

         The locals have a bit of a problem, Dear Observer. Let's watch.

         A thick black paw clutched at a thicker chest. The pain was growing duller now. His eyes grew fainter. "I don't," he whispered, staring at the massive stone skull in front of him. "Why are we even here," he huffed finally.
Carmichael stared down at his rotund friend. "How are you feeling," he asked. His own ears shook from the effort as he held them up.

         "heh, like shit," the old ursine said. "Like I'm about to die of a heart attack and my body fed to a stone skull."
"They said, if we just appease them, that if we give them a sacrifice they will bless us with more food, and you're about to die anyway and, oh gods, George, I never wanted," Carmichael babbled.

         "hush," George said, "they want a sacrifice. I'm dying." His eyes stared out into the horizon. "I wasn't always like this. I worked in New York for forty years. Scrounged and saved like any good accountant would." The sun caressed the edge of the horizon. It would be dark soon.

         "If I don't do this," George whispered, his ears quivering in pain and weakness, "they'll bring down destruction."
Carmichael stood by, his tears falling to the sand. Edwin stood by the mouth of the stone skull cave, stoic. He was at least wearing his loin cloth this time. A torch clutched in one paw. Ready to perform his duty.

         "No," Carmichael whispered. "I'm not even certain," he began. "Why can't we just wait,"

         "Because," George gasped, "It has to be a living sacrifice. You all must bear witness to this poor bears," he gasped, grabbing his chest again, then sighed, "torment" he wheezed, then nodded. Four ursines walked forward and set a cot nearby. A crowd of forty others were on the beach, mostly carnivores some herbivores. Each with a look of bitter determination on their face. Ears splayed flat. But they stood. They watched.

         George was rolled onto the cot. The four ursines carried the cot into the mouth of the skull, upon the coal pile and set down. They turned without a word and walked away, their heads held high, ears flat.
Edwin looked down at him and smiled once. "We honor you for your sacrifice," he said. Then touched the flame to the coal.

         See Dear Observer?

         We tell them. They follow.

         Now they don't even question. They just do and die.

         We poke. They cower.

         But watch Dear Observer. Let us see what happens next.

Day 60

         It is 1405 local time.

         Let us look Dear Observer. Let us see what happens.

         Edwin held his spear above his head shouting in triumph. His chestnut fur caked in blood. Upon his spear was a single head of a vulpine he once called a friend. "Hear us oh gods," he shouted. "Hear us as we worship!" and thrust the spear into the ground. "We have sacrificed the foul disbelievers! The tainted ones!"

         In front of Edwin, fifteen other individuals, still a mix of carnivores and herbivores, shouted in triumph over the corpses.

         See Dear Observer?

         It didn't take much, did it?

         A poke here. A prod there. And they all follow unquestioningly. All ready to die. For us.

         Come. Let us see how this all came to be.
Day 50

         Carmichael stood at the edge of the stone line. It had been marked in the sand just like THEY said it should be. And of course, he and Shelly were on the wrong side of it. He glared over at Edwin. "I thought we were friends," he snarled, his ears flattened, his tail stiff.

         The equine shrugged. Of course, he was naked again. Edwin claimed that these so-called gods of his proclaimed that he was never to wear clothing again. "You have been disgraced," he said coldly.

         "By what," Carmichael shouted. A snarl formed on his muzzle, his teeth glistening in the light. "What did we do to gain the ire of these gods of yours! We went along with EVERYTHING! Christ, I can still hear George's screams in my sleep." He looked down, his paws on his ears, tears welling up in his eyes. "We should be building a raft to get off this island."

         "The gods forbade it."

         "We should be planting more crops! Looking for animals to raise as livestock,"

         "The gods forbade it."

         "Our food is running out! What did your gods say about that?! Are we to starve now simply because your gods told us so!?"

         Edwin sneered at Carmichael.

         "Jesus Christ, Edwin. We grew up on the same damn street. You remember that? Playing basketball beneath the street lights on the cul-de-sac? Staying up late playing Xbox till three in the morning during all those sleep overs? Hearing your mom complain at us when we got up so late because we played those games so long? What happened? We grew up in the same damn church! What happened?!"

         Edwin stared at his friend for a long time. His former friend. The equine's ears flattened and his voice broke as he said, "that is why you are on that side." The equine turned and walked back towards his hut.

         "Yeah! You used to wear PANTS too! Remember THAT?!"

         Edwin gave no response. The tear on his muzzle was the only sign that he was even listening to him.

         So you see Dear Observer?

         Such good friends.

         So much loyalty torn asunder.

         But now, Dear Observer, we may have our fun.
Day 60

         It is 1600 Local Time.

         Let us watch first then make our announcements.

         Edwin stares down at the body of his former friend. The cause of so much trouble. First stealing the medicine. Then disrespecting the new gods as they gave them their duties. Daring to question them! Their eternal and immortal logic! If only you could have listened, he thought. But now, at least you've been cleansed of your sin.
The make shift shovel made easy work of the sand. Shifting it aside. It wouldn't take long to bury him at least. Not out here. He hadn't gotten far, only about a foot down when his shovel struck something. Something white. Edwin reached down, and picked up a single skull. "What," he asked, staring at it. It was the skull of an equine. It was...

         Now Dear Observer. Let us Make Our Move.

         The voice of the gods spoke. The booming voice that reverberated through everything, loud enough that it could be heard anywhere. "DO NOT BURY THE DEAD! THEY GAVE THEIR LIVES SO YOU MAY HAVE FOOD!"

         "B-but," Edwin whimpered, looking down at his friend, the skull still in his paw, "I can't eat meat. I can't eat him! I can't..."

         The voice boomed again. "THOSE THAT CAN'T EAT THE NEW FOOD ARE TO BE KEPT AS FOOD! THEY ARE YOUR NEW FOOD!"

         Edwin looked up. His entire world was crashing down around him. He had been their most loyal follower. Their most trusted listener. Had insisted on every order be followed without question almost from the moment they had woken up here. "This is the new normal," he said. "This is how it is," he had said. "They will take care of us," he had said.
And now they turned on him.

         The fight had already started. Herbivores were fighting for their lives from the carnivores. A feline had a lapine in its jaws, blood running down into the sand from its throat. An ursine roared in pain as a bovine need it in the nuts and preparing to bring down its horns upon it.

         Do you see Dear Observer?

         How they fight now with very little prodding from us. By morning most of them will already be dead or dying.

         Let us watch them as they tear each other apart. By next week, we will have the island cleansed and ready for the next group of....'volunteers'.

**Authors note**

If you made it this far, I thank you. I wrote this as an experiment. I was playing with minimalistic story telling style with dynamic characters. I used furry characters cause that's what I'm used to. Please note that I was not really making a social or political statement with this story, but can understand how it could be interpreted as such.

Please tell me: how well do you think the characters were developed (if at all)? How well did the story telling style come across? Did it get in the way of the story or add to it? Did this experiment work at all?

Thank you if you read this far, and I thank you doubly so if you answer any or all of these questions.

Thanks again, have a good one.