Rachel's Offering / Carman C. Curton
CONTENT WARNING: references to rape and violence.
It’s got to be huge. Also, long. With conflict, catalogs of weapons and conquerors, rape, mutilation. It should be bitter. And sad. But, with the hero returned and redeemed. So said Sarah to her younger sister. But Rachel’s offering was a wisp of a story, three people, some conversation, a witty aphorism to close. Sarah cast her eyes down, embarrassed to witness the wrath of She Who Hears. And so she heard, but did not see, the quick lightning strike that lit the altar before them, the rising flame of the burnt offering, the soft rain extinguishing it, smoke lifting Rachel’s words unto the firmament.
Rachel held her sister’s hand, smiling as her sister offered her story, humming next to her, waiting for judgement. No lightning struck, nor did flame appear. Just the echo of a thought: Maybe not so much war next time. And a little less rape, hmmmm?
Sarah bowed her head in obedience, then raised a quick hand to her sister’s face, brushed a strand of hair back under her veil. Do you have more stories? A nod and a grin. Maybe you could share one with me before the next offering?
Rachel wove their fingers together. Of course. Want to hear one right now?
In a nearby field, one of their brothers crushed the skull of the other over a stone altar and a fatted calf.
Carman C. Curton consumes caffeine while writing a series of microstories called QuickFics, which she leaves in random places for people to find. You can find her on Twitter @CarmanCCurton.