The Sacrifice and the Cloud

The cloud hung over the mountainside

Like a black and evil pall,

It took the sun from the valley, and

It held the folk in thrall,

The crops lay dormant in the fields

For they wouldn’t ripen now,

The farmers down in the valley cried,

‘It has to go, but how?’

 

They’d watched the cloud as it gathered

Bringing a dark and fierce storm,

With hail that battered the tender shoots

And flattened the barleycorn,

They shook their fists at the darkening sky

At this untoward attack,

But the cloud had threatened them, by and by

When the lightning answered back.

 

Then thunder rolled down the mountainside

And it shook their rustic homes,

It rattled the beams and the rafters, and

Was felt in their feeble bones,

They thought the wind would blow it away

But the air up there was calm,

And still it hovered there, day by day

To blanket each valley farm.

 

The tiny Kirk was amass with men

Who’d never been there before,

In hopes that a sudden show of faith

Would bring their god to the fore,

But the cloud still leered from the mountaintop

For weeks, and it hung there low,

‘Perhaps the answer is not with God,

But the gods of long ago!’

 

The older men in the village thought

The answer might lie with Baal,

And some had prayed to the thunder god

But the answer they got was hail,

‘There must be something the elders knew

To bring such things to a stop.’

‘That cloud up there is the Wandering Jew

Who never may reap a crop.’

 

They racked their brains for the thing to do

And one of them wasn’t nice,

‘What we need is a virgin girl

To send up a sacrifice.’

So they seized a maid called Annabelle,

Whose parents were dead and gone,

And dragged her up to the mountaintop

In hopes it would move along.

 

But they weren’t too sure just what to do,

Should they play a chord with a lyre,

Should they sound a note, then cut her throat

And throw her corpse on a fire?

She screamed at the top of her voice, just once

And the sun came shining through,

‘I’ve not been a virgin now, six months,

But I wouldn’t be telling you!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Barbz]

I thought of all the farmers, and fears their hands were clutching, while waiting for disaster, of crops the hail was crushing. Of course, the wrath of god, would surely shake their dwell, and to the men who'd Use her, she smiled Go To Hell!! Scary, Funny , Master!! Barbz

[wordman]

loved the short story reminds me of the early pilgrims and quakers

[John D'alquen]

I haven't read this all yet,it's to late and I need to sleep. But so far I really liked what I have read. I'll read the rest when I get back from work.

[Oyindamola Shoola]

well penned...the end is...

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

The writing of a true reader, you never fail to let us in, well done, good read.

[Valentine]

Another tale with a "Sneaky Pete" ending. I can't help but wonder how all of these ideas come into your mind. You must have read a lot when you were younger. great one Mate. God bless...Kathie

[NoelHC]

Well written, loved the trick ending.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the ending. Annabelle did turn the table. I like the way create place, fear and perfect ending. Thank you for sharing your amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Woody]

sumptuous, David! very funny and as always your ending is the proverbial cherry. what's the moral here? it's not good to be a virgin? :)

[Marie]

I'm glad Annabelle got the job done. Virgins are in short supply; I imagine gods are more plentiful.

[MomzillaNC]

Hilarious! I love the ending! What fools men are!