The Great God Tripture

something I wrote back in '06 and just found again...

The tiny island nation had had its fair share of trials. By trials, I mean tribulation. Trials and tribulation. Oh, what a religious way to say it... They had their fair share of problems. And by problems, I mean Problems. With a capital P. Tropical storms had bombarded the country every spring, and earthquakes ran rampant throughout the years. Typoons flooded the villages regularly as results of said earthquakes. Every third year was a drought but once it had rained for 50 days straight.

But the country was doing just fine now. There had been no drought for six years, nor any typhoons - at least not any to speak of. The residents had mostly become wise to the ways of Tripture.

Tripture was the god. Tripture ruled all. Tripture controlled all. Tripture was an ostrich. They had found him wandering the corn fields... his head held high while strutting through the bug-infested weeds.

The first man who tried to capture the bird was now blind - both eyes pecked out and a nasty scar on his neck. He served as warning to the villagers. That same night, the worst earthquake in the island’s history occurred and thirty of the mud shack houses were now just mud. The shaman of the tribe warned against provoking the wrath of this powerful forest god who controlled the wind and waves. And by the wind and waves, I mean everything. The villagers began leaving deposits of fruit and vegetables outside the village every night for this monster god. Every morning, the food had gone.

Four years passed this way, and the island nation never was better. No typhoons hit, only 2 earthquakes (those were determined to be results of rotten bananas) and the only flood was one night after a strong wind blew the food all over the island. Tripture, it seemed, was appeased.

No one had seen the god since the first attempt at capture, but it was evident that he was still in attendance on the island. Legends grew and stories blossomed. Praise toward the mighty Tripture burst out in songs around the village campfire.

Until the night he died.

He stumbled into the square, bloody and awkward. Children ran from him and men bowed, but Tripture cared naught. From his long graceful neck streamed a sinuous trail of blood. He collapsed two paces past the fire and never stirred again. Into the firelight stepped a creature that no villager had seen the like of. Of human size, this creature was clothed in strange fur - all white. It carried a smoking stick and walked on two legs like an ape. When it saw the group of huddled villagers in the square, it stopped, lowering its stick. Spreading its hands, for hands they were, it spoke.

What it spoke, no one knows. For the men of the village panickedly rushed the creature, grabbing sticks and stones as they went. Ferocious yells peppered the starry night, disturbed by the killing of the god-slayer.

When it was over, the villagers built a pyre and placed Tripture atop. What else to do with a dead god than place him near the sky? The god-slayer they mounted on a pole, and called him totem. Three nights later, the earth erupted - shivering and shaking. A chasm burst below the pyre and the great god Tripture was received from whence he came.

The story was lost throughout the ages, for the island nation was abandoned because of the trials and tribulations they had to bear. Yet for every canoe that paddled its way away, another was devoured by the angry sea.

Reviews

[Sound]

Wow, this is an amazingly creative write. So simple, but with a enormous amount of meaning behind it. Great job on this. I love it. How disappointing to put all your hopes and dreams in a creature or idol to realize it was, after all, just a bird.