The Saviors

A Story by Kadaroli

A short story about unwilling sacrifice.

The large ballroom, filled with idle chatter and light chuckles, radiated excitement and anticipation. Marble pillars engraved with gold lined the sides of the room, with a bright red carpet connecting the large exit to the door leading to the kitchen. Tables adorned with eye-catching blue silk, a stark contrast to the red covered floor, spread across the two opposite sides just in front of the pillars with striking symmetry. Polished silver tableware dotted the edges of the tables. Plates, knives, forks. Each covered in golden engravings resembling that of vines.

A grand golden chandelier descended from the ceiling, 20 different candles fixed into its many arms. Below the magnificent light source was the dance floor. Polished vinyl flooring reached from one corner of the room to the next, heels and dress shoes shuffling across. The room was filled with hundreds of men and women, all embellished with bright fabrics, long dresses, and slim fit suits. Each member of the gathering sported white masks, which covered their face almost entirely except for their mouths. The oval articles stopped just after covering their cheeks until finally stretching upwards creating a crescent shape encompassing their mouths.

Each Mask held another’s hands, slowly twirling across the ballroom, all in perfect sync. After several minutes, the Masks would elegantly switch partners. Before anyone realized, the dancing was back on track, a completely flawless transition. Any Mask that wasn’t dancing remained near the neatly situated tables, glasses in hand filled to the rims with champagne. Laughter emanated from each group of Masks. The room was also filled with a perpetual knocking sound. Every second the knock would come again. The Bocote grandfather clock, at least 20 feet tall, stood near the kitchen above all the Masks watching over the festivities. Its mighty pendulum swung back and forth, the knocking sound’s source.

The kitchen door swung open, a sudden movement that seemed to catch the attention of every dancing and toasting Mask. They all turned towards the abrupt noise, the dancers slowing to a halt. Two figures came forth from the aperture. A tall man dressed in a black suit with a red tie bowed. His long brown hair was slicked back, and his face, covered with a mask. This mask however was unlike any of the others. It had red stripes pouring down from the top reaching the bottom of the mask, the color almost unsettling when compared to the other masks. Beside him stood a stunning woman, her posture that of royalty. Her white dress dragged across the polished floor. Her hair was that of curled blonde, only separated by the mask that was situated on her face. This mask was also unique, blue stripes stretching down in the same fashion as the man’s.

After reclaiming his posture the man began to speak, his voice commanding yet soft, a weird mixture that seemed to catch the room off guard.

“Greetings, everyone. I am glad to see you have all been enjoying yourselves. This room was uniquely conceived for this very evening and it fills me with pride to see it being utilized for its very purpose. My wife’s and my dream,” the male Mask locks his hand with his wife’s before continuing, “has always been to host this event,” he finishes, a bittersweet smile stretching across his face.

“We as a species have endured more than any other, and we will continue to do so so that our children may live long and meaningful lives without fear of extinction,” the female Mask finally says, her voice low and sweet-sounding as if spoken from an angel. “But we have already taken up enough of your time with this little speech, so we will finally begin this year’s Choosing without any further delay,” she says taking a step towards the dance floor. All of the Masks who were previously using the space quickly disperse, leaving the floor empty except for the two host Masks who swiftly grab one another and begin gliding across the room. The lights dim, the chandelier giving off only a faint glow. The entirety of the room becomes blanketed in darkness, minus the dance floor. Even the ancient-looking grandfather clock’s eternal knocking ceases. The two Masks continue their dance in silence for numerous minutes as the other Masks stare in awe at the enchanting dance, until finally there is a slow yet powerful knock on the entrance doors breaking the silence three times over.

The two Masks turn towards the knocks, and then towards one another. They both nod in unison and then turn opposite of each other, taking long strides towards the dining tables. The other Masks in the room follow their example, making their way to the chairs pushed into the tables until finally taking their seats. The room lightens just a bit, however, the darkness still lingers.

Both host Masks reach their seats but do not sit. They both turn towards the doors where the knocks had emanated from and smile widely.

“The Saviors will finally now be presented,” the male Mask finally says, his voice echoing across the room. “Please bring them in. One at a time.” The doors slowly open, revealing a tall bulky man. His arms were the size of most men’s thighs, his chest and stomach almost bursting out of his black suit, and his mask was massive, twice the size of most of the other masks present in the room. He had a buzz cut, his hair barely noticeable in comparison to the rest of his features. Turning away from the room, he steadily takes a few steps into the darkness before returning, almost dragging something behind him. After having enough of the resistance, the brute then swings his arm forward, tossing the smaller thing to the floor.

The tossed man lay there, his body like a sack of meat heaving without any rime or reason. He made no effort to stand, but instead chose to weep on the floor, his tears streaking down his face. His cries were muffled by the cloth rag that had been shoved into his mouth. The brutish Mask reached down pulling the man to his feet effortlessly and then shoved him lightly accompanied by one word, “Walk.” The man began inching his way forward, his hands tied together by rope. His clothes were nothing more than thin brown cloth, barely covering all of his skin. His makeshift clothing had rips and holes dotted across them. He had no hair and bore a tattoo across his forehead that read “0624”. He turned his head quickly, darting his vision to each side of the room frantically as if to watch for an attack from one of the Masks.

“Ah yes, Savior 0624,” the male Mask says, a level of interest and admiration in his voice. “This one has been with us for about 26 years. I always knew he’d make it to see this night.” The man continued his slow walk, all of the Mask’s attention on him. Suddenly, the brutish Mask returned through the door with a new captive. This one was an elderly man, his head also bald. Without any hesitation, the elderly man began walking down the carpeted floor. His walk had a limp to it, to the point where he almost toppled over onto the floor multiple times. His eyes glared directly ahead towards the door in front of him. The Masks all stared in awe. The man’s eyes were filled with a feeling of nothingness as if nothing was left of the man’s soul. Across his forehead were the numbers 0578.

“This is Savior 0578,” the female Mask says with pride, “He has been with us for 74 years. Actually, I think tomorrow would have been his 75th. He has served us proud by sticking with us for so long, and tonight shall be when his dedication is paid back.”

The man ignores the angelic voice speaking of him and continues his soft glare towards the back of the room. As the Masks all take note of his code, the brutish Mask returns once again pulling along another captive.

“Alright, everyone. This is our last Savior for tonight, but she’s a little shy. So I ask all of you not to stare too intently. Alright, have her walk,” the male Mask says, a sense of security coming from his voice. The brutish Mask pulls the last Savior from behind him and leads her to the long carpet. It was a little girl, her figure indicating she was maybe five years of age. She stood there at the entrance, eyes wide as she searched the many Masks glancing towards her. After noticing all of their gazes, her vision shot downwards towards her blackened feet. The brutish Mask takes a step closer to the smallest captive and whispers something into her ear. The little girl’s eyes widen, and her gaze shoots up towards the back door, which now housed the other two captives. She eagerly begins stepping forward, her steps small yet fast.

As she begins making her way towards the back door, the brutish Mask follows, keeping his gaze locked onto her movement. Her eyes begin welling up with tears as she begins to mumble from behind the rag that gagged her mouth. Her head was also completely shaven, the numbers 0853 spread across her forehead.

“0853. The bravest Savior that ever lived. I hope we can do her proud,” the male Mask says, his smile beaming. As the little girl neared the door, she quickened her pace. She reaches it and begins to stand on her exposed toes so that she may grab the handle. The brutish Mask reaches over and grabs it first, pulling it open. The light from the now exposed kitchen floods into the ballroom. The girl’s eyes begin glistening with fresh tears as a smile spreads across her face. She takes a step into the room, her head darting in every direction, searching. She mumbles one last thing from behind her rag, though it isn’t as distorted as the rest of her failed speech. “Mommy?” The brutish Mask frowns before stepping into the room as well and then shuts the door.

The room erupted with applause as all of the Masks stood from their chairs. After a few seconds of the sudden noise, the male Mask raises his hand. The clapping falls silent as everyone takes their seats once more.

“Now my friends, it is time to choose. Everyone, make your choice,” he says after the room settles. The hundreds of Masks immediately reach for the small square pieces of paper laid out on the tables, along with pens. They all begin writing things down before folding the pieces up and placing them in large silver bowls in the centers of each table. After everyone placed their papers in the bowls, two slim Masks exit the kitchen marching towards the tables with large bowls of their own. They both make their way down the lines grabbing the silver bowls and dumping their contents into their own. They reach the ends of the tables and turn towards the center of the room and begin marching back towards the kitchen.

“It will be a few minutes, so everyone, please enjoy yourselves until they return with our meals.”

…

The kitchen door swings open, and just like before, the room falls silent as the Masks turn to see three more Masks return with large push trays filled with slabs of meat neatly arranged on plates. After closing the door, they make their way down the tables dishing out the freshly prepared meat to each of the Masks along with small bottles. Each Mask gawks at the steaming meats being placed before them. Before long, each Mask has a dish filled with meat and the three Masks return to the kitchen with empty plates. As the kitchen door closes, the glow of the chandelier becomes brighter as it fills the entire ballroom with bright light. As the room fills with brightness, the Masks all reach for their bottles and twist the covers off. After removing the tops, they each dump the contents into their opened hand. A small white pill falls from each container landing in each of the Mask’s hands. Each Mask places the container back onto the table and then swallows the pill without uttering a single word. The room goes silent as they all stare down at their plates. The male Mask stands, a genuine smile across his face. “Let the feast, begin!”