Zal- Giftra stared down at the flies that were trembling in the Great Square, he was old, 20 hours and soon he would be flying outside do he could fall to the earth and become part of the Great Mother once again, but before he was able to do that there was the choice of The Sacrifice.
The fly population had boomed when Zal- Giftra’s many times great grandfather buzzed into the open window of the old house that was in the middle of nowhere and found the dead bodies of three humans, two dogs and a canary. Now the air was thick with the heavy hum of thrumming fly wings and their voices, too soft for the human ear, calling out.
The Marble Counter top was the Great Square and when they were called, flies gathered on the counter, or the top of the White Mountain, or even on the now cool dragon coils to hear the great Zal as he spoke of sacrifice to the One.
For, you see, the flies were not alone in the abandoned shack which stank of rot and decomposition; they were joined by a few snakes which slithered in when it rained and stayed close to the warm linoleum in the kitchen and sometimes, to the flies terror, there were lizards and frogs that crawled in, looking for a quick meal but usually they were deterred by the One who protected them for a few lives.
“He is dark and has glittering eyes that pierce you where you sit, so you may not move while he crawls over the net which he makes his homes,” the mothers told their maggots in voices that were equal parts awe and terror. “And then, as he creeps towards you, you see his great body, as dark as night but stamped with the mark of the old one.”
“The old one!” The maggots would echo.
“And then, the One takes you gently into his embrace and pierces you with his two great fangs and pumps into you a poison that is both sweet and bitter; you feel your innards start to liquefy and turn to jelly,” The mothers would say as the muttering died down. At this part in the story the maggots always moved closer to one another in fright. “And then, The One drinks your being and consumes you until there is nothing left, but you have the great honor of staying with him forever and ever until the Under Woods come!”
And here the maggots would wail and cry a haunting melody that they were taught the moment they started to move and be. It was a song, if translated from the language of the flies would turn a humans blood cold.
They call out to The One, not for mercy but with the awe a weaker being has for a stronger one, the kind of terrified joy one gets when staring up at a thunder storm or a tornado, ripping the Great Mother apart.
But today, the maggots do not need to worry, for the One does not drink the children of the flies. He drinks the lumbering insects themselves and today, this hour one of them would be sent to the upper level to find the glittering net where the One stood, still and silent, balancing on silver strings as a human would balance on tight ropes.
“You all know why there must be sacrifices!” Zal- Giftra bellowed, the grey of his old body going unnoticed, he was still king and would be until he stopped moving. “It keeps the peace between the flies and the One! We must not break that chain!”
There were roars of support and approval from the gathered flies, a great humming that filled the kitchen with its vibrating pitch.
“I will choose the sacrifice from the audience assembled, as has been done for hundred of days! Kneel down and pray that you have the privilege and honor of doing this for your fellow fly!” the Zal roared.
The flies dropped and turned there eyes down the ground, all of them whispering the prayer of the Old One to a different beat as Zal- Giftra flew over the numbers, stirring the hairs on their backs with the steady drone of his wings. Finally he landed in front of a fly and lifted her eyes, she stared up at him and in that moment a great, fierce glow filled her face.
“The Sacrifice has been chosen!” the Zal roared. The fly chosen, he believed her name was F’trantre rose up with him, her wings humming pleasantly as, below them, the flies broke out into the prayer, all in one voice;
“The Old Ones came from the west
Clothed in yellow and black with sword in hand
The Old Ones lead us in the night
Showing us the way with their nights of old!”
“You have been chosen, daughter of the old one, you must hurry now, for the One grows hungry. Fly! Fly with all your strength!” Zal- Giftra told her.
“I won’t disappoint you!” She said breathlessly and then turned, flying quickly through the high ways of the flies which were going to and from in their normal business.
F’trantre buzzed over the city, her joy boiling in her guts as if she had swallowed some of the sweet, fizzy water that was knocked over by a visiting rat. She never felt more aware of her power as a fly, the absolute richness of her life.
Below her, the city soon gave out to small communities of flies, then to flees and mesquites and finally to great, lumbering beetles that looked up at her with approval and relief, it was the jobs of the flies to keep all the insects safe and, unlike humans who would not appreciate those who were weakest, the insects thought it right to respect those who gave themselves to The One.
F’trantre stopped and looked up at the square mountains that rose, with the sun pouring down them like a waterfall of gold. She trembled at the thought of climbing up there by herself, stole herself against the fear and started buzzing up toward the Chamber of the One.
At first the flight was easy and she made good time, but soon her wings grew tired and her legs numb. F’trantre thought of landing to rest her weary body but decided against that after she saw how close the sun was to setting. She only had a few minutes left and if she was not there in time…
The Nurses had told the maggots about the time the flies had grown arrogant and had not sent a sacrifice to the Great One.
They said that it had been a great massacre, that shadows had swept out of the corners and cracks of the Kitchen and slaughtered all flies, then the Great One had turned to the maggots and the nurses and said:
“Never Again.”
And the shadows had all vanished, silent as the night itself. The flies had never forgotten that, it was one of those terrifying moments in fly history and that one had gone down in history and was passed on from fly to maggot until the Under Wood came.
F’trantre made it and hovered there, looking around her in reverence. This was the Upper World and was made up of floating light particles and a great humming. F’trantre frowned, wondering what was making the deep droning sound but then, descending from a hole in the ceiling were two of the Old Ones.
She was too stunned to move as they lowered into the splashes of the red-gold light and hovered in front of stunned little F’trantre, looking at her with small smiles on their faces, their claws clasped together.
“Welcome, F’trantre, you arrived just on time,” the one on the right, a female F’trantre assumed, said in a soft melodic voice.
“How… how…” F’trantre tried to ask. The Old Ones laughed softly and the male put his free claw under F’trantre’s chin and brought her closer.
“We know many things,” he purred to her, “but now is not the time for talking The One is waiting for you. In there.”
He pointed to a room of darkness and F’trantre nodded and began to fly towards it, staring in surprise and pleasure when she saw the Old Ones flanking her.
When they got into the dark of the room she was thankful for their company, for she could not see as they could and gently lead her to one of the corners, looking at one another of her head.
“Up ahead, little one,” the female whispered. “It was an honor.”
F’trantre did not trust herself to speak so she simply nodded and pressed forward into the darkness until she could smell the net and the One. She had never thought she could recognize his smell but the Nurses had told her, when you see the One you will know.
She landed silently and found herself frozen in place, no matter how hard she buzzed her wings, she was stuck and sighed, settling back down to wait.
So this was what they meant by being frozen by his stare. It was not his stare that froze flies it was the net. The net held the true power.
“Welcome to my home, little fly,” said a distinctly feminine voice. F’trantre started sharply. “I did not mean to frighten.”
“You’re a female!” she cried. A deep chuckle responded softly. “We were always taught you were a ‘he’!”
“That is because the Zal is a male. When a Zel is chosen I will once again become a female in your legends,” the One said softly. Under her claws, F’trantre could feel the strands of the net trembling at the One came forward silently.
“It is an honor to be here, One,” F’trantre whispered and caught her first look of the One.
She was huge and dark, as they had always said, and her eyes gleamed softly at her, but what was startling about her was the deep crimson marking on her back, as bright as fresh human blood, so bright in fact that it seemed to glow!
“I’m glad you think so,” the One whispered and plucked little F’trantre from her spot and held her close. The perfume coming from the One made F’trantre feel sleepy and she began to nod off, when she realized she could no longer see anything but a great blanket of silver.
“Good bye, little one, you will always be with me,” the One told her and then there was a sharp piercing pain in her side and then…
Golden Warmth.
Golden Warmth as the toxins poured into little F’trantre, liquefying her inards as she had been told. There was no pain, only that sweet golden warmth that swam through her body and into her mind, lifting a great weight from her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she dimly heard the one say and then there was a strange sensation of being drained. Drained and drained until there was nothing left of her save a dry husk of a body.
Before F’trantre allowed the darkness to swallow her she saw a golden wood filled with flies and Old Ones and beautiful creatures with many colored feathers and such beauty she began to weep.
“This is the Under Wood,” she said softly and then was no more.
