MicroHorror

The breeze off the ocean blew her long golden hair across her face and pressed the white shift against her skin, the invisible hands of a lover holding her up as she fought for balance at the edge of the cliff. In the background, the drums throbbed, pulsing through her body and weakening her knees.

She looked down at the massive gray rock, while waves crashed in darkness below. Her eyes traced the outline of the closest of the crude sarcophagi all ranged in a row, awaiting their charges. The beat of the drums changed. Her signal. She turned her back to the sea and watched as seven bearers lifted the body of her husband and approached the open tomb.

So young to be a widow, hot tears ran down her cheeks, whether for her… or for him, she was unsure. She had known it would be so ever since their wedding night. It seemed like yesterday. Lying naked under the bearskin she had caught a glimpse of gray in his hair, caught in the firelight, as her new husband slid aside the hide flap of the tent. She smiled, remembering; the drums were present even then. As he had come to her, with trembling hands, she had felt the deep creases in his skin as he caressed hers. The realization had hit her then, even as he entered her, that this day would come; she would not grow old with her husband. He had already spent his youth, and she must give him hers. But she was duty-bound. Traditions from time immemorial decreed that it should be so, the price of betrothal to a chief.

As their queen, she stood erect while seven young men, stripped to the waist, their oiled muscles glistening in the firelight, lowered the corpse into its eternal home, then wailed aloud as they strained and the heavy stone ground into place, sealing the tomb away.

She waited, impassive, as a long line of people filed by, placing flowers on the stone. Would they do the same for her? She watched, detached, as the final petals fell atop the pile, then stiffened as the rhythm of the drums changed once again. Her knees buckled, but rough, dirty hands caught her and lifted her in the air. Grasping, groping fingers soiled the pure white of her raiment as they laid her down.

Calmly, she took one last breath of cool sea air, one last look at the stars in the sky, then closed her eyes as the grinding sounded, locking her inside.